#Gwen Cease

[erikahenningsen]

tumblr stop telling people I post about Aaron Samuels or I will sue you

[morbid-longing-picturesque]

every day i open tiktok and see the dumbest takes about across the spiderverse

[unluckiestmember]

Hey, could you write spider-Gwen x fem reader jealous headcanons?

Coming right up!

Gwen Stacy X Jealous Fem! Reader

Characters: Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales and Hobie Brown

Tags: Established Relationship, jealous!Gwen Stacy, reassurance, fluff, oblivious nature and self esteem issues.

Warning: Mild Cussing, but SFW.

A/N: Gwen is a beautiful woman, does she know that? Like damn!

So Gwen isn’t the heavy jealous type.

Would she be upset if someone’s flirting with you knowing you’re dating her? Absolutely.

But is she going to kick someone’s ass for doing it? No.

If there’s touching involved? Maybe.

But all in all, she was a chill girlfriend.

But you? Hooo boy!

You are aware Gwen is kind of a bombshell.

If the way Miles drools over her and the way Hobie talks to her didn’t make you realize that, someone else would.

At first you were okay with it, thinking they were only like this because she was beautiful.

But more men and women started to hit on her. And the more she got compliments, the more it fuelled your jealousy.

Gwen didn’t think much of it though, always brushing off the flirting as mindless compliments.

It wasn’t until your unspoken frustration started translating in your body language did she get a clue into your jealousy.

It had gotten to the point where she sat the both of you down to talk about it.

She didn’t understand initially though.

She thought it was an issue of trust and that hurt her. But the real reason hurt more;

Your esteem was starting to get low and grew lower to where you felt you weren’t good enough for her.

You felt like she deserves someone better. More attractive, more social, more perfect.

But Gwen would say otherwise.

And she did.

“Y/N. I love you. No one could ever compare to you because you are everything I could ever ask for. You’re perfect and I could only love you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

Ever since, she makes sure to tell you everyday how much she loves you.

If someone tries to flirt with her, it’ll go in one ear and out the other.

She’ll even go as far as telling that person that she’s taken or to cease their advances.

There’s only one person who can flirt with her. And that's you.

Spider-Verse Requests are open!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

Alliance || Total Drama ||

After finding out Duncan cheated on you with Gwen, Alejandro offers you an alliance as revenge against Duncan. 

Pairing: Duncan x Reader x Alejandro 

Warnings: Cheating (not reader), fem implied reader 

Words: As I’m finally coming out of my writer’s block, I present this! Maybe a little self-indulgent because I like Alejandro and Duncan. Oops—Might make a second part if people like it though.

| Not my GIFs |

Your cheering for Cody ceased when Tyler blurted out the secret he’s been holding back. It took a moment to register in your head, not wanting to believe it. Duncan didn’t actually kiss Gwen, right? Your boyfriend and best friend wouldn’t have done that to you. It had to have been a strategy the other team came up with to throw you off. Pitting you against each other so you’d be distracted during the challenges. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, the distraction immediately working. 

“He said that Duncan kissed G—,” Alejandro repeated. 

You were quick to cut him off before turning to face Gwen. “I heard what he said! Gwen? Is that true?” 

She looked at you with guilt written all over her face that only confirmed it. She took a step back, as if expecting you to fight her. And for a moment you thought about it, anger quick to take over. Except heartbreak was quicker to hit when you fully accepted the situation. Your boyfriend and best friend kissed behind your back. 

You turned to look at Duncan who gave you a just as equally guilty look. You had hoped that by looking at him he’d shut down Tyler’s rumor. But when he looked away, you knew it was all true. Your heart cracked in your chest, and everyone was silent, waiting to see what you’d do. Both Duncan and Gwen watched you closely and you could see the fear on their faces. You never got mad or raised your voice, you were one of the few reasonable contestants on this show. It’s what made you so likable and kind of scary with everyone wondering if you’d ever snap. Today might just be the day. 

You turned to look at Cody who hadn’t moved yet, he was watching to see what happens next. No doubt scared that you might do something to Gwen. You kind of felt bad for him, he was sort of betrayed too. It can’t be fun knowing the girl you’ve been pining over kissed someone else. 

“Cody, start flying if you want to win this. Otherwise, if we lose, we’ll be voting Gwen off tonight,” you tell him. 

Your voice is eerily calm but it’s enough to set Cody flapping his poorly made wings. Your words made him determined to win, more so with his team agreeing with you. The Amazons won the challenge in the end which meant Gwen was safe for now. It also meant that Duncan had a chance to be voted off and although you were heartbroken, you didn’t want to see him go yet. 

Once your team is back in first class, you're left alone with your thoughts. And everyone wants to know what you’ll do to Gwen. Courtney is immediately giving you ideas, completely on your side. She had a crush on Duncan, but when he admitted he felt the same for you, she became your number one supporter. Which meant she was the embodiment of your anger now. 

“Hey, can we talk?” Gwen asks, approaching you with a guilty look on her face. 

“She has nothing to say to you!” Courtney exclaimed, standing in front of you. 

Gwen took a step back but looked over at you, nonetheless, silently pleading with you. Courtney looked at you too, arms crossed over her chest with a scowl on her face. You knew you should talk to her about this, but you didn’t want to. Not right now. 

“You heard her, I don’t have anything to say,” you repeat. 

She sighs heavily and walks away with a defeated look on her face. As much as she liked the kiss with Duncan, nothing could get rid of the guilt she felt. She hadn’t meant to betray you like that, it just sort of happened. At least, that’s how she likes to remember it. 

“We can so vote her off in the next challenge,” Courtney says once she’s gone. 

You shake your head, a defeated and broken look on your face. “It won’t change anything.” 

“No, but it’ll make you feel better. And it gives me an excuse to boot her out,” Courtney offers, trying to cheer you up. 

She liked you, which is rare for her, especially given the circumstances. This wasn’t exactly the place to make friends, but she became friends with you. You were the only person she’d deemed worthy enough to make it to the final two. Which is why she was angry for you. And maybe something else that she’d never admit. 

You offer a smile, strained but good enough to seem cheery. “I’d still rather play fair. If we happen to lose a challenge then whatever happens, happens.” 

That was enough for her, deciding to make your team purposely lose. People would suspect it from you but not from her. She could even get Sierra and Heather in on it. 

You wanted to be alone after, sneaking away from first class. You found a corner hidden away from everyone and sank down. Being alone meant you finally felt everything that just happened. Your boyfriend really kissed your best friend. You felt your heart crack inside your chest and the dam finally burst. 

You sobbed into your hands, using them to muffle whatever noises left you. It almost worked, had a certain someone not been snooping around. Alejandro found you in your corner crying your heart out. It’s exactly as he had hoped for. To get you alone and charm his way into your trust. Except standing in front of you now, he wasn’t so sure of his plan. 

“May I offer some comfort?” he asks, sitting beside you. 

You stop crying immediately and wipe your tear stained cheeks. You clear your throat and look away. “No, I’m fine. Completely fine.” 

“Of course, I didn’t mean to insinuate you weren’t,” he says, giving you a charming and gentle smile. 

You furrow your brows and stare at him, seeing straight through him. You didn’t trust Alejandro, from the beginning of this season. You saw what he did to Bridgette and LeShawna. You weren’t going to let him get to you the same way. 

“What do you want?” you ask. 

“My, I didn’t expect such a beautiful lady to be so harsh,” he places a hand over his heart and feigns being hurt. 

It makes you roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Listen, you may have everyone fooled but not me. And I’m not in the mood right now.” 

“I know,” he smiles again, this time showing his true intentions behind it. You were too smart for your own good and there was no point pretending. “But I figured now was as good a time as any.” 

“For?” 

“I propose an alliance between the two of us.” 

“You want an alliance with me? Why?” your eyes narrow and you’re even more weary of him. 

He was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to answer. What excuse could he say without giving away how he really felt? He didn’t want to admit that he actually felt bad and angered. No one should have ever broken your heart, much less someone like Duncan. But saying that out loud would mean having to admit how he felt. He wouldn’t. In a competition like this, feelings were a weakness. 

“To get back at Duncan, of course,” he answers. “If he sees us working together, it’ll irk him. Seeing you move on will definitely be a punch to the gut.” 

“Oh right, it’ll definitely be a punch to the gut when he’s making out with Gwen,” your voice cracks at the end, vision blurring. 

Alejandro’s heart wrenches at your sadness and anger bubbles in his chest. Duncan didn’t deserve you, not for a second. He abandoned you at the beginning of the competition and you just accepted him like it was nothing when he came back. He hated it and he hated you a little bit for it. Except now was his chance to get you to see him and forget about Duncan. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulders without thinking about it. Your pulled closer to him, facing him only inches away. “No offense, but you’re not exactly my type.” 

He laughs and gives you an ever so charming smile. “Don’t worry, that’s not my intention,” he lies. 

“And what are your intentions?” 

“It’s like I said, an alliance with you. Not only will it be revenge on Duncan but I’ll take you to the final two with me.” 

“Oh really? Why would you take me to the final two? I would’ve imagined you’d want someone like Heather.” 

“Heather? While she is lovely, she’s not my type. And I happen to like someone else,” he says, looking at you earnestly. 

Your heart skips a beat and you blame it on your bundled feelings. You push him away, making space between the two of you. Honestly, his deal sounded nice even if he ended up double crossing you. At least you could distract yourself from what Duncan and Gwen did. 

“Okay, on one condition. If you stab me in the back at any point, you vote yourself off.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate as he answers, all that matters is that he’s got you on his side. “Deal.” 

[witchymadness]

ONE BED TROPE

(w/ Gwendoline Christie's Characters)

(A/N): literally wrote this for myself bcs I just can't with how hot and sweet this woman is, but I thought you guys might enjoy too! 🥹 literally Stan Gwen for a better life. Did not proof read, pls enjoy.

(also fls this image makes me just want to sin, mame)

Brienne of Tarth

-You're a princess and she's a knight.

-Classic trope.

-You were on a journey and your father, the king, sent his mightiest guard with you in your quest, whatever it may be.

-All that good shit.

-So, one day in your seemingly endless travels with Brienne, you were bound to encounter the following scenario:

-"I profusely apologize, m'lady, but there seems to be only one more room available in the inn. And it only has one bed."

-I mean, it wasn't like you had the hugest fucking crush on this gorgeous-ass fucking woman next to you--

-Right???

-FUCKING WRONG!

-So you arrive at the room and the bed was quite spacious, seemingly a bed for... Couples.

-But your internal screaming was ceased when your amazing (mountain) of a knight offered to sleep on the floor. And of course, you couldn't let her do that!

-NO.

-"Oh, it's absolutely fine, Brienne. I insist."

-"B-but m'lady--"

-'JUST CLIMB IN THE FUCKING BED ALREADY SO I CAN CLIMB YOU, DAMN IT!'

-"It's fine, Brienne. I could use the company."

-*insert internal dying pt. 2*

-You trying not to stare while she takes off her armor was a successful, yet gruesome process.

-Facing away from her in bed because you might just freeze to death if you accidentally met her icy-blue eyes.

-"(Y/N). I understand that you are not comfortable with our predicament. Cease the civilities and let me sleep on the floor, please."

- >:0

-'HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT I, FOR ONE SECOND IN MY LIFE, NEVER WANT TO BE NEXT TO YOU?!'

-"Brienne, I-- listen, it's not you that I am uncomfortable with. Well... It is you. But--"

-She let out a quiet sigh as she had started to stand, but you, frustrated and quite tired of the bullshit, grabbed her arm and caused you two to come face to face.

-This slightly took her a back, but she kept her usual composure, propping you up as you still held on tightly on to her arm.

-"Lady (L/N), what on earth are you doing?"

-"I'm not letting you leave. By god, you are as slow as you are gorgeous."

-"I don't understand, m'lady."

-"Brienne, I do wish for your company. Not just this evening, but the evenings ever since I've met you and the evenings in the many moons to come."

-*exe.brienne has stopped working*

-"I understand that I may have been a little too aggressive. But my offer still stands the same. You can have the bed. It's the least I could do for the bravest knight of Tarth."

-"(Y/N)... Are you true?"

-"With every word that I have given you. By the old gods and the new, Brienne. I mean it."

-You saw the spark in her eyes, a spark of hope and maybe... Love? So, you continued.

-"I meant every compliment I have given you, every thanks, every laugh and each of those chaste kisses on your cheek when I tend to your wounds that I wish could be longer. They're all true. I mean it when I say that my bed shall always be yours. And I'll mean it everytime that I tell you how much I love you, my Brienne."

-"I love you too, (Y/N). I always have. I'll always be by your side. I shall protect you and offer my life to you, my (Y/N). Know that in my dying breath, the memories of your smile shall put me into the deep slumber with joy."

-You cried because, whew! Did you guys just get married?

-"Let us sleep then. As I await every tomorrow that I'll spend with you."

-Move over, Will Shaxbeard!

-You woke up with Brienne holding you close and you the same. You knew instantly that that is how you wanted to spend the rest of your eternity.

Lucifer Morningstar

-Little less pure than Brienne.

-So, Lucifer abandoned their post, went down to earth and met you.

-You we're a psychic.

-Supposedly.

-Well, kind of.

-It didn't matter, because Lucifer seemed to think so, so they dragged you along to fulfill their great escape of their father's plan.

-You really did not believe them, but hey, they've got money.

-You we're visiting a demon in Las Vegas.

-Suffice to say that you've seen quite the shit that day and just wanted to get some rest. And probably a beer or two before travelling of to the dreaming.

-Lucifer didn't really like sleeping, and they usually just... Do things while you're asleep.

-They're a very busy person.

-In your slumber, you'd sometimes awaken to the Morningstar cursing under their breath, contemplating their life.

-It was a strange ass mid-life crisis.

-Besides being the Devil, you had to say that they were quite charming. Polite, infact.

-They never bothered you unless they needed to.

-No one ever saw them in their raw form of vulnerability, except you.

-Or atleast, no one ever survived to tell the tale.

-Well, that night in Vegas, you've drank MORE than a beer or two.

-Lucifer said that alcohol never really worked on them. It's a celestial being thing, you wouldn't get it.

-"Well why don't you just get some rest then, angel?"

-That nickname irritated them to no extent.

-"I told you (Y/N), I don't sleep."

-"Like... You can't? Or you just don't wanna?"

-"I--"

-*annoyed Lucy activated*

-Usually, you'd back off. But in this case, you had no control and you were face to face with the Devil, for Christ's sake. Of course you were curious.

-"You...?"

-They looked at you incredulously.

-"(Y/N), just go to bed, angel."

-They did not just say that.

-You burst out laughing. Does the devil have blood? No. Can you see clearly? Absolutely not. But are they absolutely blushing like a tomato? Yes.

-They marched to the side of your bed, demanding you to shut the fuck up but to no avail.

-Going as far as to straddle you and attempted to choke you, out of their childish frustration.

-Part of them knew they couldn't kill you as you were still an evident part of the prophecy.

-But, God they wanted you to shut up so bad.

-It's an itch that grew unbearably annoying to them, to listen to you laugh. And now, especially, that you were laughing at their misfortune.

-"(Y/N), SILENCE!"

-When you realized the position that the two of you were in, you suddenly quieted down.

-Samael was the most beautiful angel in the heavens, and still retained their features even after their fall from grace.

-As the dim yellow light shone a faux halo above them, it was bitter irony.

-Your angel.

-You pulled Lucifer down next to you, then almost successfully straddling them in the same manner they did.

-"You look so beautiful, my angel."

-You couldn't remember what happened next but when you woke up, you were on top of Lucifer, head resting on their chest.

-They were wearing their own silk pajamas and you found it adorable.

-"Good morning, my angel."

-They decided that they liked that nickname better.

Larrisa Weems

-You were a fellow teacher.

-Well, you liked thinking that you were.

-You were just an intern, or as most people like calling you, Ms. Weems' assistance.

-It didn't really bother you as much.

-It meant that you got to spend more time with the Head Mistress, who to be completely honest, you were absolutely smitten with.

-You slept in your own chambers, of course.

-But one day, something completely unfortunate happened.

-A fur just happened to burst into your room while they were morphed, through the windows.

-You were sleeping at the time, but luckily, you only had a few cuts from the window shards, thanks to your duvet.

-Larissa, being the headmaster, had to take care of the whole debacle.

-She dragged you inside her chambers and started patching up your arms and the few stray cuts littered across your face.

-Larissa did look sorta pissed, while doing so.

-"Ms. Weems, I understand that I'm intruding. I can stay with Mr. Ramirez tonight and I can patch myself up, if it's troubling you."

-You offered, as Mr. Ramirez, or Gary, as you knew him, was a friend of yours before getting into the academy. And before Principal Weems, it was him who you spent most of your time with.

-"Wouldn't Gary be fast asleep by now, (Y/N)? Although, it is you. I doubt he would refuse his own girlfriend, no?"

-Girlfriend?

-"Oh, am I imposing? Forgive me. I just see the both of you lovebirds hanging around, couldn't help but notice." she hummed.

-"Ms. Weems--"

-"Larissa, please, darling."

-Ignoring the butterflies dancing in your stomach, you responded.

-"Yes, Larissa. Gary and I are just friends."

-"Oh..."

-Her expression was unreadable, and so was her tone.

-"I suppose you haven't set your eyes on any of our staff, then?"

-"Actually, I have..."

-You let out a small wince as Larissa pressed the cotton ball a little too roughly on a wound.

-"Sorry, sorry."

-Soon after she was finished bandaging up your cuts, she offered to walk you to Gary's room.

-But then you heard loud snoring and after a few more countless attempts to call the man, you gave up.

-"(Y/N), this is getting a tad ridiculous. I wouldn't mind you spending a night in my chambers instead."

-Ignoring the underlying meaning that the statement had, and you wished she meant, you agreed.

-The walk back to her chambers was a quiet one.

-"Thank you, M-- Larissa. Goodnight."

-Without thinking, you placed a soft kiss to her cheek.

-Larissa was left dumbfounded, while sleepiness visited you as soon as your head found the pillow.

-"Goodnight then, (Y/N)."

-She reminded herself to ask you in the morning on who was the staff member you liked.

-Waking up was a surprise, as you found that Larissa's hand had snaked it's way to your waist, while you had your hand on top of hers, keeping in in place.

-That's how Enid pays her 'Thing' Massages.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

One day we're gonna talk about how fanfiction writers literally leave out trans women 100% from their writing.

That day is TODAY

Fanfiction, Cis-sexism, and the Erasure of Trans Women in fandom spaces -

Ex'scuuuusseee me - I got something to say.

They say 'I can't write ftm because I don't write for men'-

Okay but you write for women though. You write for women yet all your readers in your smut are explicitly cis women.

Fanfiction writers know that writing a trans women as a fem!reader would alienate their cis audiences and they know labeling it as m*le!reader is literally transphobic so instead they just don't include trans women at all.

I don't think I've seen a single fic of Hobie with a trans woman. I knoooww for a fact I've never read about Miguel with a trans woman.

The fact there's no romantic fic of Hobie with a black trans!woman speaks VOLUMES considering he's a character known for sheltering a young trans girl.

But him being portrayed dating a trans woman his age - 🤷🏾 *crickets*

HELL IMMA TAKE IT THERE - I haven't even seen MILES X GWEN where he acknowledges her being trans, or validates her identity, or helps her with dysphoria.

GWEN - the character heavily implied to be trans.

If it's in a romantic context - poof! That goes out the door. They're written as a cis4cis couple and Gwen never has dysphoria or talks about being trans ever.

We all call ourselves trans allies and big up Gwen but ask someone to write a trans-fem!reader being romanced or assured and waaaiittt a minute now that's a different story-

Okay. Okay cool coo nice talk

I've read a lot of fem!reader fluff but have never seen a fem!fic outright say she's trans, or feeling dysphoria, or transitioning or anything.

I read a lot of fem!reader smut but never seen a fem!fic outright say she has a dick.

Cause y'all will write x-reader - not tag the gender - and just assume every reader will be a cis woman and if they aren't they're met with open hostility or outright ignored.

The fact that mtf women are completely left out of fanfiction - especially in x-reader - is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to cis-sexism in x-reader smut.

Yeah, you only write for women. WHICH women though? 🤨 Or do you think you really write for all women and think that trans women aren't apart of that?

'I can't write trans men, I don't write men' - Okay but you write women so you have no excuse to not write trans women other than 'I don't care for them' or 'I don't wanna do the research' or 'writing bodies that aren't cis makes me uncomfortable because that's all I've ever been conditioned to see as worthy of praise and sex in a normal loving context'

You're not slick. I see the behavior. Cease it at once. Romanticize all women in your writing. TRANS women too

[waitimcomingtoo]

hoax ~ p.p

chapter one: just a sweet, sweet fantasy

series masterlist

Despite the fact that Peter had been pining for you the last three years of college, he had never had a conversation last more than a few minutes with you. As hard as he tried, he always got flustered and ran out of things to say or just made the conversation awkward. You never noticed him the way he noticed you, even after you were paired up with Ned for a school project last semester and your friend groups merged in the process. Peter thought his luck will change now that he was running in your circle, but all it did was make it more evident to him that he didn’t have a shot with you. You only saw him as a friend, and even that was an exaggeration of your relationship.

“Hi.”

You jumped a little when you heard Peters voice and looked up from your phone. You hadn’t even noticed that he was already sitting at the table you agreed to meet your friends at. It was pretty common for you not to notice Peter, but that didn’t mean he’d ever stop trying to get your attention.

“Oh, hi Peter. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. How are you?” You asked politely.

“I’m good. You?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You replied. You then pulled your phone back out and started to text, making all conversation cease.

“I like your skirt.” He said after a long beat of silence. You looked up in surprise since you thought the conversation had ended.

“Aw, thanks. That’s so nice of you to say.” You smiled before going back to your phone. He sighed in defeat even though this was how your conversations, or lack there or, usually went.

“Yeah, no problem. It’s like jeans but…not.”

“Oh, yeah. I think it’s called denim.” You laughed awkwardly and didn’t know it was was socially acceptable to go back to texting.

“Right. Denim.” He nodded, and conversation ceased once again.

“I like that it’s pleated.” He said after a full minute of silence.

“What?” You asked and looked up from your phone again.

“Your skirt.” He explained while his face turned bright red. He knew he was beating the death out of the skirt topic and it was made even worse by you knowing the same thing.

“Right, my skirt. Thanks. So do I.” You smiled politely again and touched the skirt.

“Hey losers.” MJ said as she approached the table. Peter heard you sigh in relief over not having to be alone with him anymore, and he couldn’t even blame you.

“Hey. Sit with us.” You smiled and patted the table. MJ sat down and the awkward tension dissolved with the presence of a third person. Your other friends, Kate and Gwen, soon joined the table too and the dynamic of the friend group was restored. Much to his disappointment, you and Peter seemed to lie in opposite ends of the friend group. You were friendly with each other, but also couldn’t be left alone together without maximum awkwardness ensuing. You were the people that would laugh at each others jokes in a group setting but never be able to hold a one on one conversation.

“Did you do the trig homework?” MJ asked you.

“Oh yeah. You need it?” You asked and put your backpack on the table to get your homework out. Peter looked up and noticed a pin of Spider-Man’s mask on your backpack. He did a double table and looked at you in surprise to confirm the backpack belonged to you.

“Is that a Spiderman pin?” He asked you.

“Oh, yeah. You haven’t heard? He’s her latest obsession.” Gwen teased you.

“For the record, I’ve always liked him.” You insisted. “I’ve been a fan since day one. The obsession has just gotten worse as I’ve realized he’s the only man for me.”

“Wait, really? He is?” Peter asked with a surprise smile.

“Please don’t get her started.” Kate whined. You ignored her and leaned towards Peter to talk to him.

“You know when you have a celebrity you like and you just know that if you ever met, you’d be great friends?”

“Of course.” Peter shrugged. “Dylan O’Brien would be my best friend if we ever crossed paths.”

“Exactly. That’s how I feel about Spiderman. Except instead of friends, we’d be lovers.” You said simply. A blush painted Peters cheek to hear you talk about him like that.

“Sounds like you really like him.” He smiled shyly.

“I’m in love with him. I have so many videos of him saved on Tik Tok.” You laughed and pulled out your tik tok to show your friends your collection of saved videos.

“Girl. 407?” Gwen gasped. “You’ve saved 407 edits of Spiderman with sexy songs in the background?”

“Um, yeah. I watch them before I go to sleep.” You shrugged and pulled your phone back. Peter was stunned to silence to hear how deep your obsession ran.

“You need help.” MJ snorted. “You don’t even know him.”

“I feel like I do. Haven’t you ever felt that way about someone you haven’t met yet?”

“I have.” Peter spoke up, making you smile.

“See? I’m not crazy. Just a romantic.” You sighed. The conversation changed subjects and Peter was silent as he thought about what he had heard from you. After three years of being hopelessly in love with you, he may have just found his way in.

A few days later, your group agree to meet up in the library to do homework together. Ned was still out sick with the flu, so Peter didn’t have his crutch to lean on. You arrived early to the library and saw that Peter was the first one there. You gulped and braced yourself for the awkwardness that was about to happen and sat down across from him.

“Hey, Peter.” You said politely. He looked up at you and blushed before trying to think of something cool to say.

“Hey. How’s it going? How are you?” He asked.

“Pretty good. I’m a little stressed out over this stupid paper but Gwen said she’d help me today. How are you doing?”

“Really good. And you? How’s it going for you?” He asked before realized he already asked that.

“Uh, I think we covered that.” You joked.

“Right, right. You’re still good, I’m assuming. And, uh, nice shirt by the way.” He complimented you.

“Aw, thanks. It was my moms back in the 80s.” You smiled at him and then opened your laptop, ending the convo.

“I like your hair too. Did you change it?” He asked to try to resuscitate the conversation.

“No. I haven’t washed it in a few days. It’s just greasy.” You laughed awkwardly and ran your fingers through the it.

“Oh.” He gulped. “Well, it looks good.”

“Thanks.” You smiled again just as the rest of the friend group joined you. You both seemed to relax now that everyone was there and you no longer had to limp through a conversation. Peter didn’t say much as the group talked about homework and weekend plans but snuck glances at you the entire time.

“Wait a minute. Why do you have a magazine? What year is this?” MJ laughed and pulled a magazine out of your open backpack. You gave her a playful look and snatched the magazine from her.

“Because. Look at this picture someone took of him yesterday.” You smiled cheekily and laid the magazine out for the table to show them a picture of Spiderman.

“Oh my God. Please. It’s too early for this.” Kate playfully whined and banged her textbook against her head.

“This is the most detailed photo I’ve seen of him yet. It’s so clear. I bet he’s so cute under the mask.” You sighed happily and looked at the picture again. Peter watched the way you stared at the picture in the way he’d been looking at you all these years and smiled to himself. He’d never been able to turn your head, but he was pleased to know Spiderman could.

“Or he’s 30 and has a greasy little rat face.” MJ grimaced.

“Stop it. Don’t ruin my fantasy.” You said and playfully smacked her arm. She laughed and wrapped an arm around you while you continued to stare at the picture.

“Fantasy?” Gwen smiled coyly. “Uh oh. Spill.”

“Okay, so I have this fantasy where he sees me walking home and drops down from the sky to walk me home. Just to make sure I get there safely.” You told the group with a dreamy smile.

“Oh. That’s a lot less erotic then I thought it would be.” Kate said in disappointment.

“Oh, trust me. I have plenty of those. But I’m not sharing any of them here.” You smiled coyly and drummed your fingers on the table. Peter gulped when he realized what you were talking about and turned bright red.

“What else do you fantasize about?” Gwen asked you.

“Mostly him saving me from danger. But low key danger. I don’t want to actually be in danger danger. Maybe just tripping on the sidewalk and he catches me. Or, you know, he stops a car from crushing me like in Twilight.”

“This little crush of yours is getting out of hand.” MJ laughed and shook her head. “You’re literally asking to be crushed by a car now?”

“But imagine how amazing it would be to be his girlfriend.” You gushed. “He could swing me around the city in his arms and kiss me on the top of the Brooklyn bridge. Or take me on dates on the top of the Empire State Building. I want it so bad.”

“So stand in the street until a car comes near you and wait for him to swing you to safety.” MJ said sarcastically.

“Don’t give her ideas.” Kate groaned.

“You don’t think I’ve considered that? I’d do anything for a date. Just one. I swear, I could get him to fall in love with me. I just need one chance.” You sighed and picked up your magazine to admire it.

“I bet he would.” Peter spoke up. You looked at him over the magazine and smiled.

“See? Peter supports me. At least someone’s on my side.” You said and gestured to Peter. You made eye contact with him again and this time, it didn’t feel awkward. You liked that he was being supportive, no matter how silly your argument was.

“I think you’d make a great couple.” Peter continued, making you smile once again.

“Thank you.” You told him. “Now I just need to find a way to talk to him.”

“Maybe leave a couple flies on your windowsill.” Peter suggested. All the girls looked at him in confusion and he felt embarrassed that his joke didn’t land.

“Because he’s a spider. And they eat flies.” He shamefully explained. You stared at him slack jawed for a moment before throwing you head back laughing.

“That was genius.” You laughed. “Although, I hope he doesn’t actually eat bugs. I don’t think I could kiss a guy who eats flies.”

“He doesn’t.” Peter said with such certainty that everyone looked at him in confusion again.

“I’m….I’m guessing.” He lied. You smiled at him again before going back to talking to your friends. The conversation faded to background noise as Peter constructed a plan in his head.

After class that day, Peter changed into his suit and hung out on top of a building to watch the people walking in and out of campus. If you wanted to talk to Spiderman that badly, he was gonna bring Spiderman to you. Finally, he spotted you walking to your dorm with your earbuds in as you typed away on your phone.

“Hey! How are you? I’m Spiderman!” He whispered to himself to practice what he would say to you.

“No. That’s stupid. She already knows it’s me.” He grumbled. “Hey! What’s up? It’s me, your friendly neighborhood giant fucking loser Jesus Christ this is so difficult. Okay. Just be normal. Just talk to her. Just…”

Peter trailed off when he heard the sound of an engine revving. A car was speeding down the street and heading right towards the blissfully unaware you. Peter immediately jumped down and landed between you and the car, putting his hand up to stop it right before it could hit you. The car bent against his hand and came to a halt as Peter held you close to his body. People on the street gasped and started to take picture while you gasped for air. You pulled your earbuds out and looked at Peter in disbelief.

“Hi.” He said through the mask.

“Oh my God. It’s you.” Your voice shook as you tightened your grip on him. You were shaking with adrenaline and fear so he tightened his grip around your body.

“It’s me.” He said weakly. He had almost seen you die but now had to pretend you were a stranger he had never met before.

“You just saved my life.” You told him as a smile crossed your face.

“It’s my job.” He said simply. Your smile grew and you threw your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his ear. Peter blushed under the mask and hugged you back. People on the streets clapped and took videos, but you were unaware of any of it. The man driving the car got out just as the police arrived to take yours and Peters statements. Once you were all squared away with the police, Peter wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Let me get you somewhere safe.” Peter said before swinging you a few blocks away from the sight of the crash. You held on tight and let out a happy scream as he swung you since it was a dream of yours coming true. When he set you down, you smoothed your hair down and looked at him.

“Thank you so much for saving me. I’m such an idiot. I was so focused on my phone that I just mindlessly kept walking even when the walk sign wasn’t on.”

“You’re not the idiot. That driver was. He was going 60 miles an hour in a school zone. It wouldn’t have mattered if the wall sign was on or not. I’m just glad I could be here to stop the car.”

“Just like Twilight.” You whispered to yourself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just a little starstruck.” You admitted with a shy smile.

“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.”

“I know. But I’m kinda your biggest fan.”

“Well, I’m flattered. It’s nice to have a fan.” He chuckled through the mask. For the first time, Peter actually found it easy to talk to you. Conversation was flowing and he didn’t even have to try.

“I’m seriously obsessed with you. I’ve been following you since you first started, back when I was in high school. I think what you do is amazing. And now that you stopped me from becoming street meat, I’ll love you forever.” You told him before you knew what you were saying. You felt embarrassed to be freaking out so much over him, but he didn’t seem to think it was weird.

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled shyly at the sound of you promising to love him forever.

“Good. And I promise, I’ll never look at my phone while walking again. I’ll be super careful from now on.”

“What were you so focused on anyway?” He wondered.

“Oh, um…” You trailed off and just showed him your phone instead of trying to explain. It turned out the thing that had distracted you so much that you almost got hit by a car was a Tik Tok of footage of Spiderman edited to the song Deep Throat by Cupcakke. You smiled in embarrassment while Peter burst out laughing.

“That’s…intense.” He said once he regained his composure.

“I’m sorry. I tried to warn you. I said I was a fan.” You laughed and relaxed a little. You felt like you were being so weird, but he seemed to enjoy it.

“Can I walk you home?” He offered, making you light up.

“Really? I mean, yeah, sure.”

Peter put a gloved hand on your back and started walking with you back to your dorm. Conversation flowed easier than it ever had before and Peter felt like you were meeting each other for the first time. Talking to you as Spiderman was the antitheses of talking to you as Peter. His jokes didn’t fall flat, there was no awkward silence, and you were the one constantly complimented him.

“You know, I’ve fantasized about this very moment a million times.” You admitted to him as you neared your dorm.

“Have you?” He smiled coyly.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it was actually gonna happen.”

“I don’t mind walking a pretty girl home. Maybe it can happen more often.” He timidly suggested. You stopped walking and looked at him to see if he was serious.

“I would like that.” You grinned.

“Cool. I’m smiling back at you, by the way. Sorry, I know it’s hard to tell under this.” He joked and gestured to the mask.

“It’s okay. I actually could tell.” You told him. Peter smiled only again and felt his heart swoon for you. You got to your dorm all too soon, meaning this conversation had come to an end.

“This is me.” You smiled sadly and pointed to your building. “Can I ask you something? Before you go?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“How old are you?” You said, close to a whisper.

“21.”

“Really?” You gasped. “Me too. You have no idea how relived I am to hear that.”

“Relieved? Why?”

“Because now I know my crush is age appropriate. So I can fully indulge in the fantasy. And because now I get to laugh in my friends faces who thought you were 30 or something.”

“It’s not really a fantasy if it’s really happening, is it?” Peter said as he stepped closer to you. Your breath caught in your throat and you broke into a dreamy smile.

“Trust me. It’s definitely a fantasy.” You sighed happily.

“Well, have a good night.” Peter said and squeezed your arm.

“You too.” You replied as you touched where his gloved hand had just been. Peter looked over his shoulder to wave at you before swinging away. Once you thought he was out of earshot, you let out a happy scream and jumped up and down. But you were never out of ear shot when it came to Peter, and he heard the whole thing with a grin on his face.

🖤🕸️🖤

chapter two is out now!

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[goosetheluce]

Teach Me (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "gwen stacy x fem reader where gwen is trying to teach reader how to play the drums 😽😽"

warnings: suggestive tension, flirting, pet names, kissing

a/n: this is random, but i imagined gwen playing "spin" by taking back sunday, if you'd like a better picture of the fic

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You wrapped your fingers around the doorframe, peering over it from the hallway. You had just finished up a meeting stemming from your extracurricular. You marveled the ghostly stairwells; the school was basically empty, especially where Gwen was. You and Gwen had agreed to meet each other at the music room, where she usually practiced every day after school. As you strolled by the room, you saw her scrolling on her phone with her headphones beginning to blare music. She looked warm with the evening sun washed over her brown-and-blonde undercut.

She clearly had no idea you were just outside the room, still nodding along to her playlist.

Huh, you thought. She really doesn't see me. You stepped out from behind the wall and instead leaned against the doorframe. You crossed one of your ankles over the other and watched silently as Gwen immersed herself.

She had been tapping her drumsticks along to whatever song she was listening to against the drumset, but as the seconds ticked by, her rhythm incorporated the rest of her limbs and head.

Warming up, maybe?

With a quick tap on her phone, Gwen's headphones suddenly tuned into the speakers in the room. She slid her headphones off her ears, letting them fall to her shoulders. She twirled her right drumstick and positioned her shoe atop the bass, still studying the set beneath her.

A grin spread across her face, and her first movements began as the next song started. Initially, she went timidly along with the song, still seeming a bit reserved. To a stranger, she would have seemed at peace, but you knew Gwen. Her shoulders were slightly tensed, and her face remained relatively straight.

Just a few seconds later, though, the chorus hit, and Gwen began nearly abusing the set. Her shoulders loosened completely as her passion bubbled to the surface, crashing against the drums perfectly with the song. She began to scream along, her face twisting and throwing her body along with the current of the percussion.

Her head hung closer to the drums, hair swaying and bouncing as she nodded with such aggression it made your head hurt. Her muscles pushed against her milky skin as she kept drumming; veins, which were usually veiled, appeared. You realized her eyes were squeezed close while pounding away, and you wondered in awe how long she had been learning.

It all lasted but a minute before she finally looked in your direction and choked on the lyrics pouring from her mouth. She kicked on the wrong beat (the first and last time you'd ever hear such a mistake) and swiftly paused the music.

"Jesus, Y/N, I thought Halloween was two months away. Care to give me another heart attack?"

You let out a breathy laugh, striding to Gwen. "Wasn't my intention. You were fucking great, though." And hot, you thought separately. Sweat began dripping down Gwen's arms and face from the cease of action.

"Thanks! Been playing for a few years now," she explained casually. Your brow furrowed.

"A few years? I figured you'd been playing your whole life."

"Oh, hell no. I live in an apartment. I could only start learning once I got to high school, where there was an actual set."

You nodded, walking behind Gwen to play with her hair. Your fingers sifted through her coarse strands. She brought her hand up to gently wrap around your forearm absentmindedly.

"You're just a genius at drums, then," you remarked after a few moments. Gwen scoffed.

"I wouldn't say that...anyone can learn."

Your hands fell away from her hair to rest on your hips. "Oh, really?" you taunted. "Teach me, then." Gwen turned her head to where you could see her side profile. Her lips pulled into a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am," she teased. She rose from her seat and guided your shoulders to sit you down.

She leaned down to pick up her drumsticks, placing them in your open palms and shutting your fingers around them.

"There are 5 actual drums in most standard kits. There are 3 toms," she instructed, pointing to each respective piece. "The bass, and then the snare. There are also ride cymbals, hi-hats, and crash cymbals." You tried to absorb as much information as possible, clutching the sticks.

She snaked behind you, settling her hands on your shoulders once more. You could feel her intense eyes trained on the back of your neck.

"Hit the snare."

You reached toward the snare, timidly tapping it. It barely made a sound.

"I said hit it."

More force snapped against the drum this time. Gwen, now hovering beside your ear, smiled.

"Better. Now, kick the bass twice in a row."

You obeyed, beginning to quiver. Being around Gwen made you nervous. Butterflies erupted in your abdomen as her breath passed over your neck.

"Yeah, keep that going, babe. Immediately after the second kick, hit the snare and crash at the same time."

You fumbled the timing over and over again, hesitating with each do-over. Part of it had to do with the honeyed words Gwen rasped into your ear. You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes.

Christ, I need her to kiss me.

You turned your head to face her, scanning her. Embarrassment scorched your cheeks. She was amused by this.

Giving in to your bottled frustration, you erupted from your seat and nearly got to Gwen's lips.

Nearly.

Gwen denied your attempt by firmly cupping your face in her hands. Her corners of her plump lips twitched with a small smirk. She leaned forward.

"Finish the sequence and you'll get what you want," she murmured, a tease edging her voice.

You groaned and plopped back on the seat, swiveling around to face the kit.

"Just focus, hon. You got it."

Impress her.

You took a deep breath, held it for a second, and started the progression as you released the air from your lungs. Your muscles tightened. You just wanted to get this right.

Right for her.

You messed it up again a few times, sweat pricking atop your skin with concentration. You felt the frustration settling in the cavity of your chest again. You felt Gwen's fingertips brush against your cheek from the back.

"Just let go," she suggested softly.

You nodded. "Okay."

As Gwen's body pressed up against your back, you closed your eyes and relaxed your muscles. You envisioned the routine in your head, eyes still closed, and went for it.

Getting out of your own head worked, and the moment you realized it did, you kept the rhythm going. After spending fifteen minutes trying to perfect the instructions from Gwen, the relief was sweet.

You stumbled again and stopped, but it didn't matter. You succeeded.

To your surprise, Gwen's arms wrapped around your waist and she pulled you out of your chair. She whirled you around and pulled your body tightly against her willowy build. She wound her fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, pushing you towards her lips.

The kiss was heated, passionate. It lit you ablaze as her other hand slid down your body and rested firmly on your hips. When she pulled your lips apart, her eyes were glazed and heavy. Her cheeks were flushed with fire. Giggling at your dazed expression, she kissed your neck.

"Anyone can learn...with rewards."

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[opticfile]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲

—✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 // in which alfred is a truck driver and you're his favorite stop

✧ i loooooove writing for alfred i love love love it hes my favorite to write for probably

—✦ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 // Alfred F Jones (APH America)

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // swearing, reader is hit on by unwanted college boy, fluff, gn!reader

A few things help Alfred get through his days and nights. One is some music, another is phone calls with his buddies. Whatever it is, he just needs something to fill the dull air as he drives endlessly from one place to another. Singing along to a Gwen Stefani song (probably one from her No Doubt era) or dancing in his seat at red lights always helps keep his mood high. Waving to little kids in their mom’s backseats when they look up at him in awe and wonder is always nice, too, it makes him feel like more than just a truck driver, it’s like he’s Superman and flying over the city after saving the day.

But truth be told though, he’d have a hard time staying awake behind the wheel on especially hard days without his coffee. This man doesn’t exactly have the healthiest diet, especially not while driving, his passenger's seat is always full of fast-food bags and his cup holder always has soda or an energy drink lingering in it. Coffee, however, helps him start his day off right. It’s a tasty, warm energizer early in the morning when his eyes are still adjusting and his brain still isnt awake.

Yet the only thing that can get his day off to a good start better than coffee is you.

You’re a sweet college student, probably close to graduating, maybe a four-year degree, he thinks. You work at a cafe he frequents as often as he can, as long as he’s in the area it's his number one choice for his morning coffee and bagels. Half of it is because he really likes the coffee, the rest is because he likes seeing you.

You’re way too kind for someone working the early morning opening shift. You always smile at him and banter with him, no matter how clearly exhausted you are. And he’s way too cheery for a guy who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive a big ass truck around all day, so you guys have that one in common. You have a lot in common. Maybe you guys have matching eyebags, he thinks, or your voices are equally as groggy. 

But you always smile when he comes in, he's a regular at this point, the kind of regular who doesn't even need to order because the barista knows what he's getting. You always draw a little heart next to his name on his cup, sometimes lately you’ve been writing Alfie instead of Alfred, too. That one will never cease to make his heart stutter. You know exactly how much cream cheese he likes on his bagels, you know exactly how much cream to put in his coffee, and yeah maybe that's just because you’ve made the same order for him a gazillion times but he likes to think of it as something more intimate than it is. 

One time you complimented his hoodie, it had a little alien head embroidered over his heart, and “I come in peace!” was written over his back. You noticed it, you mentioned it, you complimented it, and he broke out into a grin.

“Really? I think it's great, too.” He said triumphantly. “My brother said it was corny, but you should see some of the shit he wears.”

“Corny? Maybe. Cute? Definitely.” You giggled, writing his name on a large cup. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know.” He winked playfully, leaning on the counter and watching you as you made his drink. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, he never gets over how efficient you are.

“I said it was cute!” You said, defensively, a coy glint in your eyes. “But I can’t exactly lie to you, either.”

He laughed joyfully.

The first time Alfred saw you he thought you were cute, the second time he thought your haircut was cool. Now when he sees you it's like a puppy seeing his owner after they’ve been at work all day. He gets happy, his stomach does backflips like an Olympic gymnast, and he can’t stop smiling.

Most of the time it's just you, him, and one or two of your coworkers. Not many customers pop in so early—shocker, right?—so he gets to enjoy chatting with you until his coffee is ready before he has to set off on the road. 

Sometimes there’s another person in the cafe though, sometimes two. One time that other person was clearly a college guy, one who had no business being here this early, one that should be hungover and passed out on his frat house’s deck instead of leaning over the counter and trying to flirt with you.

That was probably the first time Alfred realized you weren’t just his barista friend, but his barista crush. What tipped him off? The fact he wanted to grab the guy by his collar and carry him out of the building like a mama cat carrying its kitten by the scruff of its neck.

He didn’t, by the way, he wouldn’t do that unless you asked him to.

Instead, he just grit his teeth as he waited in line behind the guy, listening as he dragged out the ordering process to drop some lame pickup line that made his skin crawl—and yours too, judging by the awkward smile on your face and the forced laugh you humored him with. Alfred definitely wanted to groan out loud at that point. When the guy finally got the hint and left, Al walked up to the counter with a smile, and your shoulders relaxed and you sighed. 

“Long time, no see, partner.” You smiled tiredly up at him. 

It had been a long time, maybe a week or two, and he realized he missed you all that time, too. 

“Yeah, it’s great to be back in town.” He tipped his ballcap like he was tipping a cowboy hat, a dumb grin on his face. He didn’t have to place his order, you knew already.

You giggled softly at that. Was it just him or were you more exhausted than usual? Maybe the weirdo hitting on you drained your social battery or something, maybe it was finals week or something. 

“Great to have you back, I missed my favorite regular.” 

“Aw, you tellin’ me you have other regulars?” He clutched his pears in faux shock, acting hurt for dramatic effect. Somewhere to your left, your coworker snorted.

“Maybe, but none of them are as cool as you.” You grinned. “And none of them have such easy orders, either.”

“I’m a simple man, what can I say.” 

When you handed him his coffee and bagel, your fingers brushed his, and he felt a tingle go down his arm for a split second. Then you winked, and he felt one in his heart.

To say you felt any different than him would be a lie.

Alfred was definitely your favorite regular, that was no joke when you said it to him no matter how playful your tone was. He was always sweet and respectful and always cheered you up when you were barely dragging yourself through your shift.

The first time he came in you thought he was hot, the second time he came in you thought he was funny, and now when he comes in you feel a breath of fresh air cut through the coffee-scented air and your heart speeds up momentarily at his smile.

His smile always got to you. It was so attractive, he had such nice straight teeth and his lips framed them perfectly. It felt like a beautiful oil painting framed in gold or something. What came out of those lips was no different, his voice was always pleasing to the ears, and sometimes he came in sounding like he just rolled out of bed, and that was also pleasing. 

Alfred’s presence was the best part of your week, everything else sucked if you were being honest. Your coworkers made it really hard to feel positive when they were so bitter because they had to do the job they applied for. Your patience was thinning every day, and honestly when that guy from one of your classes showed up you felt like quitting then and there. Thankfully he never came back, if he did you probably would’ve thrown down your apron as soon as he entered. 

As much as you hate to say it, Alfred alone wasn't enough for you to want to keep the job. So you turned in your two weeks, you found a new job—one much more impressive than “barista”—and you counted the days until you were free from your coffee-stained shackles.

The last week of your job you didn’t see Alfred once, and you were starting to get anxious that you wouldn’t see him again. Maybe you could get one of your lazy coworkers to give him your number, or you could show up every morning until he was there. 

(that was in no way plausible, you barely even wanted to show up now and you work there)

But, to your relief, on your last day, Alfred popped through the window. His blue eyes shone through his glasses, his blonde hair was a mess, and he was wearing a hoodie with his iconic bomber jacket over it. He looked warm, he looked good. He grinned widely at you, shooting you finger-guns as he approached the counter.

“If it isn’t my favorite barista!” 

“And my favorite customer returns! I was getting worried, you know.” You smiled back, grabbing a cup for his drink.

“Aw, I always come back to this place! If you didn’t see me today, you’d see me tomorrow or next week or something.” He promised.

“I actually wouldn’t.” You said, “Because I wouldn’t be here.”

Alfred paused, “What’d’ya mean?”

“It’s my last day.” You smiled, glancing back up to him momentarily and catching the way his lips tugged down slightly.

“Like… forever?” He asked.

“Yup, I got myself a shiny new job.” You boasted.

“So I won’t get my morning coffee from you anymore?” He leaned on the counter, his voice seemed disappointed.

“Uh,” You pulled your eyes away from the coffee machine to meet his, “Yeah. Not anymore.”

He nodded slowly, “I won’t get to see you again, then?”

You chuckled to yourself, “Of course you will, silly.”

“I will?”

“Yeah, did you think I would part ways with you without giving you my number or something?” You grinned.

Slowly, he did too. His eyes twinkled and his chest shook in laughter. “I’d sure hope not.”

You smiled, face warming a little as he stared at you intently. This time, when you handed him his coffee and bagel your number was written beneath his name. 

“So, your number-?”

“It’s on the cup.” You noted.

“Got it. Yeah. I’ll- I’ll call you.” He grinned, walking backward for a moment before ripping his eyes away from your face and walking out the door feeling like a giddy teenage girl.

Today his day got off to an amazing start. Coffee always helped with that, but you? You always made it ten times better.

✧ navigation.

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 13

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Summary: A passionate night together leads Miguel to accepting your darkest desires...and giving in to his own

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: nsfw, 18+, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting, scratching, blood consumption, multiple orgasms, overstim, reader is consensually incapacitated and her body used, bondage, oral - f. rec, face sitting, aftercare, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"You're sure? You're okay with...what we just did - when I cut you and..."

"And scratched me and sucked me and drank my blood?" You shrugged one shoulder, easing your thighs across his lap. "I can see how it sounds when you say it out loud," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Maybe it's you who needs to accept the monster in me."

Since you and Miguel made things official, you had grown quite comfortable sleeping on top of his massive chest.

It wasn’t that you spent every night together. He still disappeared most weekends....which you finally asked him about.

"I promise I'll tell you soon," he swore, so earnestly you couldn't find it without yourself to doubt him. "It's...a lot to take in."

Accepting his word as a sign of trust, a part of you still wondered if you were naive. Perhaps Miguel spent weekends galavanting with a secret family (or something equally horrible.) Your neighbor/friend Gwen teemed with sordid suggestions.

But you loved him. Your heart won out and you made a deal with yourself, agreeing to give him a little more time to explain.

Work in the lab continued, as did a search for a cure for Miguel's blood addiction/weakness. In the mean time, Miguel drank your blood, rather than get as weak and as sick (and irritable) as the last couple months.

At first, he insisted that you draw blood in the lab, but after spending several nights with you, his baser cravings grew too powerful to resist. Using his talons, he would scratch marks into your supple skin and drink from fresh wounds. Burying himself deep inside you while he drank elevated the pleasure exponentially for you both.

Which is where you found yourself right now.

The two of you barely stumbled into his penthouse apartment after work before he tore your panties (again) and stuffed thick fingers inside you. That was well over an hour ago.

Now, he rested against the headboard of the bed, his thick, muscular thighs stretched out along the mattress. Seeing this god of a man stretched naked especially for you never ceased to thrill.

Tipping his chin up only slightly, he beckoned you wordlessly toward him, patting his lap invitingly.

Wetting your lips, you eyed him hungrily, climbing obediently, spreading your slick thighs on either side of his legs, teasing his cock with your sopping cunt - your slick and his spend leaking out of you from the previous round.

"How are you hard again?" You giggled, pushing your fingers up over the breadth of his shoulders before tasting his lips one at a time.

"Mmm...told you. Superhuman stamina," he murmured, licking hotly into your mouth. Powerful hands gripped your hips as he tried to slip inside you again. "I didn't wear you out, did I?" He teased.

"No way," you fired back, easing off his lap to turn away from him. Before could grumble out a protest, you sank down on his thick cock, rotating your hips, riding him in reverse, your back arching in rapture.

"Fuck, you feel good honey," he groaned, his jaw going slack at the sight of your eager body ready to fuck him so good after he'd taken your body all evening. Talons extended to tauntingly scrape along the delicious curve of your back before sliding up your sides to cup your soft mounds. Taking the weight of your breasts in his palms, he fondled you gently, helping you move your lithe body against him. You purred in satisfaction as his thumbs brushed your hardened nipples.

Your drenched, slippery cunt felt incredible to Miguel, but you wanted more friction. With a slight whine, you rocked your hips faster, pushing up on your knees and dropping down hard until you found a vigorous rhythm bouncing on his cock.

"Faster?" He taunted against your neck. You could feel him smirking.

"Harder," you panted. "Fuck me hard. Need more."

Miguel growled out an incoherent response, gripping your hips and using his superhuman strength to work you over his length, slamming you down over and over again.

His appetite for blood had returned to normal, so starvation and weakness no longer plagued him. But this...hours on end in bed together - he was dying to sink his teeth into your flesh - despite having sworn he never would again.

"Miguel, harder," you whined, even as your sounds of pleasure ascended embarrassingly loudly. "Faster, please. I need...I need..."

He knew. He felt it too. You both craved the deep, primal, monstrous connection that had formed between you so early on.

Yes, he was certain of exactly what you wanted.

"I'm hungry," he groaned, fingers sliding around your throat. Roughly grabbing your jaw from behind, he tilted your head to one side, exposing more of the smooth skin of your neck.

He was fucking you so deep, but now - the possibilities made you wild with desire. “Please, Miguel. You can taste me.”

Damn. That was probably going to upset him. You'd promised not to ask him.

He dragged a talon across the side of your neck, growling as a sprinkling of blood sprang from your soft, sweat-soaked skin.

You felt the warmth of his tongue, wishing he would give in and sink his fangs into your flesh.

Unsure if Miguel gave into his cravings or if his fang slipped and sliced you - you felt that familiar pain and your heart both soared and sank. Because he would surely stop, horrified.

His massive chest rumbled with a hungry moan so powerful, you felt his deep satisfaction vibrate through your whole body.

“It’s okay, baby,” you panted, reaching blindly behind you to card your fingers through his thick waves. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Need you so much, Miguel.”

He apparently passed the point of needing permission, squeezing your throat a to the point of pain. However, the elation of him drinking you, the delicious pressure on your throat, the brutal slam of his cock plowing you so deep inside had you shrieking in pleasure as your walls clenched around him, your body rocked with a powerful orgasm that made you tremble and shudder against him.

Right as your pleasure crested and started to subside, you felt his fangs pierce your neck, fully. This was no accident and there was no turning back.

Lips sucked as his tongue laved ravenously, drinking until the venom in his fangs weakened you into a limp doll.

Lightheaded from blood loss, you slumped over.

Miguel laid you gently down, staring, conflicted, at the wounds in your neck, oozing with life-giving blood. Yet his cock twitched, aching for another release.

Gripping your thighs, he spread you apart, running his tongue along his fangs to collect excess blood.

“Fuck you’re pretty for me like this, muñeca,” he panted, recalling the sounds of you begging for this night after night.

Even if he punished himself for it later, you loved when he used you like this. It felt so wrong that you somehow craved it. You couldn't feel him fucking you, but his loss of control as he got off using your body - you wanted it. You only hoped he wouldn't back down.

His massive chest heaved as crimson eyes darkened lustfully. With his grip on you firm, he thrust inside your pliable, bleeding, paralyzed body with one deep stroke.

He molded you like a doll, like his dirty little toy. The languid, loose weight of your lifeless limbs added pressure as he pushed in and out of you.

“I could do anything to you and you’d let me. I know you want it. Want me to use you.” Lifting one of your limp legs over his shoulder, he groaned as your head lolled to the side, your vacant eyes unable to meet his.

You were spread so wide from him - soaked from endless hours together - of his cum and your slick heat. His balls slapped messily against your cunt as he fucked you so deep… he knew you would be sore tomorrow but he couldn’t find it in him to slow down.

When he was close, he pulled out of you - not that you could feel it - before jerking himself and spilling all over your breasts and your neck, leaving you a used-up, lifeless, fucked out mess. Panting harshly, he admired his handiwork, eyes raking over your beautifully ruined body, covered in his spend from your jaw down to your knees.

He didn’t even ask permission before reaching for his phone to take your picture. Not that you could protest in this position, but the thought that he wanted to remember you as his ruined, used toy made you fucking feral.

Flopping down on the mattress, Miguel tried to catch his breath for a moment. Even with his stamina - the exhilaration of finally feeding on you again was overwhelming.

After a few moments, he gathered your sweat and cum covered body into his arms and took you to the bathroom. Holding you gently, he ran a bath, adding some oils and salts before easing into the luxury garden tub with you.

He cradled you in his arms sideways, with your cheek laying against his chest.

By now, the paralytic was wearing off and you could feel the pain of the wounds in your throat. You hissed as the warm water stung the scrapes and bite you had sustained.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, starting to carefully wash you.

"Don't - " you started, but he hushed you.

"I'm not sorry for what we did," he clarified, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. "I'm only sorry that the water stings."

You slowly nodded. "It felt good, Miguel. It's been so long. I wanted it so bad. Don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad, baby," he assured you, touching his forehead to yours.

You let out a sigh of blissful contentedness. "Feels so good."

A chuckle rumbled in his godlike chest. “Even when you can’t feel anything because you’re paralyzed?”

Gazing deeply into his eyes, you wet your lips before kissing him softly. “Remember, I’m the monster here,” you whispered against his mouth. “I…crave those things. I want you to bite me and use me. Fuck, it makes me want you so much.”

With that confession, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, hand blindly grasping in the warm water, hoping to find his cock hard again.

His superhuman stamina did not disappoint.

“Again, mi amor? You’ll be sore for days,” he chided, a bit condescendingly, one corner of his mouth curling in amusement, even as his crimson eyes widened in wonder that you still wanted more.

Biting your bottom lip, your eyes dipped coyly as you tugged on his thick member, stroking him just the way he liked.

He groaned, “You’re insatiable.”

“You gave me everything I wanted tonight,” you murmured against his lips, working your palm up and down his length, sloshing water sloppily. “Ask me for anything, Miguel, and I’ll say yes. Anything.”

“Corazón,” he moaned, hips shifting, fucking up into your grasp. “Anything?”

Your teeth tugged his bottom lip into your mouth, nipping tauntingly. “Yes.”

Nodding, he started thrusting again. Felt too good not to come if you were offering.

Your lips fused again in a heated tangle as you stroked and tugged him to orgasm.

The two of you managed to clean up and get something to eat before relaxing upstairs in the spacious den, cuddling together in his oversized chair. By this point you were dying to know what he would ask of you.

But you were distracted as he kissed you breathless, holding you like a treasure.

Miguel laid you open on the plush, expensive carpet, stripped your clothes off your body and spent the next hour with his tongue and lips all over you. He kissed you until you were dripping and arching into him, desperate for more. He nibbled at your breasts, littering them with tiny scrapes and cuts, sucking your nipples even as he drank warm red liquid.

He could no longer deny how hard it made him - how possessive over you he felt - knowing he could mark your body - that you wanted his marks on you - you craved them. Something dark lived in you and he was beginning to accept it. To need it.

Down he went, kissing the softness of your tummy, sucking marks into your thighs, passing an hour of attention with you panting his name, begging for what you really wanted.

Firing his warm, sticky webs to hold your thighs apart -spread so wide for him - he gazed down at you, desperate and writhing.

Finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to your cunt, nudging at your swollen clit with his nose. His warm tongue met your sex and your back arched violently as you came instantly. You felt him chuckle against you, inside you - his tongue thrusting in and out - the rumble of his laughter sending shockwaves up your spine as he purposely overstimulated you.

After an eternity of teasing, it was too easy to get you to orgasm, but he didn’t let you come down and you coudn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop or to tap his shoulder for a break. No, instead your heels dug into his muscular back - your thighs slung over his broad shoulders as you bucked up frantically into his waiting mouth, fucking his tongue. Your shrieks of overstimulated pleasure tapered off into pathetic whimpers as he found the rhythm he knew you loved.

His superhuman strength allowed you to fist and pull his dark waves as hard as you wanted - to wildly buck and push his face harder into your sex. He could take anything you could give.

As if sensing you needed it harder, wilder, he rolled you over and pulled you down on his face, supporting your weight as you smothered his mouth with your pussy. He lightly smacked your ass, and, as if spurring a horse into action, you moaned embarrassingly loudly, riding his face as hard as you would his cock, as carelessly as you would use a toy in your bed alone.

Grabbing his hair again, you slammed his head down onto the carpet before yanking it up, using the would-be painful motion for more friction to fuck his face.

You and Miguel had done some dirty, wild things, but he’d never really felt this much unbridled loss of restraint from you. He moaned into your pussy, wishing he could fist his cock to the absolutely wrecked, desperate, filthy sounds echoing off the den walls - the squelch of your soaked cunt, slapping and dripping down his chin, making a mess of his hair, the carpet, of the both of you.

You came on his face only a moment later and before you were even halfway through your high, before the slight chance to start coming down presented itself, he laid you down and started working his tongue gently all over your pussy lips, your thighs, even your ass to clean you up.

“Miguel, fuck…fuck, it’s too much, oh f-fuck!” But since you didn’t safe word, he didn’t relent until you were a blubbering mess, having lost track of how many times you came, if you were currently coming now or coming down from a high.

He never used more than one finger and his mouth, but you finally passed out from exhaustion. He loved that he could do that to you without venom.

The next morning, you woke up clean, wounds appropriately dressed, in Miguel’s freshly made bed, wearing his t-shirt. It took you a few minutes to get your bearings when he entered with a tray of breakfast.

You sat up, feeling the slight sting of fang punctures in your neck and a sore, overused cunt.

“Corazón,” he breathed, rushing over to your side. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his eyes flickering all over you.

“I’m good,” you assured him, reaching to caress his cheek. “I’m a little sore, but for all the best reasons.”

To your delight, he nodded and rolled with it. “You’re a dirty girl,” he chuckled with a shrug. “And dirty girls end up sore.”

Gasping in mock-surprise, you whacked him with the back of your hand. “Miguel O’Hara!”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he fired back, catching your flying hand and tangling his fingers with yours.

The two of you shared a few kisses, and, as you started eating your breakfast, you admitted to him that you were thrilled that he finally seemed to be accepting your dark side.

“It’s not darkness,” he finally answered, surprising you. “Reaching for your hand, he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s devotion.” He placed a kiss to your hand. “It’s acceptance.” He kissed your forehead, then looked down into your eyes. “It’s everything I’ve ever needed.” This time, he kissed your mouth.

“That’s why I want you to live here with me.”

Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as your cheeks heated at such a request. "Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..."

Massive shoulders sank as a worried frown tugged at the corners of his kissable lips. "But?"

Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."

next

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

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[spilledquinoa]

I've just realized how long it's been since I've done one of these (sorry bout that) but @rottenpumpkin13 has inspired me to do another one!

Sephiroth

"simply, communism."

"sometimes you just have to put sanity before fun"

"and I will say 'boo' and send you an email saying 'boo'" (also works for Angeal)

"watch out. he's blue and predictable"

"did you just say 'I'm vaginal'??"

"chicken<6"

"did you say 'prison' and look at me?"

"I'm so mentally unstable it's hilarious"

Genesis

"my mom has limbs you nipple spork"

"get in loser, we're going to the mortitician this Saturday"

"when Gwen Stefani dies, I call dibs on Hollaback Girl royalties"

"what's the point of a voodoo doll if you don't test it?"

"who cares about you graduating when the POLAR BEARS are getting HEART ATTACKS"

"roses are red, I might be autistic, I'm actually super gay but that's not a secret"

"so that's that. I didn't swear. like a whore."

"it's toxic but in a frisky way"

"you little piss-ants"

"what rhymes with alcoholic"

Angeal

"who is it? who's meowin'?"

"Genesis is subpar at best but he's not lame!"

"why aren't we vaccinating the chickens?"

"turkey, turkey, sociopathic turkey..."

"'I drive all night to keep her warm' (referring to Story of My Life by One Direction) man, you don't have to drive to keep someone warm? get a blanket! cheaper than gas!"

"I respect, acknowledge, and admire the grindset"

"capital mark"

Zack

"bananas are freakin weird man"

"he said he has a stommy ache"

"tomato, tomahto, ketchup, potato"

"ham means death??"

"pizza that has lost all heat and pizza that has been put in the fridge are two VERY different kinds of cold pizza"

"I feel like a dish pickle"

"while you've been running the Eiffel Tower, I've been secretly stuffing bees into pants"

"I had a dream someone was cussing me out in sign language"

"when it's 0° I wear pants"

"if you need the bathroom, go now or forever hold your pee"

*whispering* "are they stealing monkey nipple milk??"

"if it's slow, it's bisquik"

Cloud

"well that was OPPRESSIVELY offensive"

"she's Amish, not racist"

"it's educated gambling"

"no I do want scurvy, just to say that I've had it"

"ZACK SAID FREEDOM AWAITS AND I HEARD FREE THE HOMELESS"

"if you step on a crack and break your mom's back, what about orphans?"

"at your temple dipshit"

"you can't just 'dick around' at a SENATE HEARING."

*about Genesis* "wow! I never knew someone could that well versed in being a bitch!"

"I will never cease to disappoint"

Group!

Cloud: is it snowing or hailing?

Zack: snailing

Cloud: aren't you gay??

Genesis: yeah sometimes I forget

Angeal: protons have mass

Zack: I didn't know they were Catholic!

*chatter, before room goes suddenly silent*

Angeal: ...and that's how I first kissed Genesis on the mouth!

Cloud: that's a real how I met your mother vibe

Zack: I'm being killed!

Genesis: no you're being kidnapped fuckwad, there's a difference

Angeal, about Cloud: you're selling yourself out to the army?

Genesis: like a prostitute??

Sephiroth: you're offending prostitutes

Genesis: at least they get something out of it

[13keithxpidge13]

About aob miles/hobie/gwen/pav— I would absolutely die for anything where Hobie is forced to be vulnerable around the other spider people. I see a lot of fics where he's comforting/there for one of the others, and I think it'd be rlly cute if the tables were turned on him sometimes. just the rest of his pack taking care of him bc alphas need love and care too<3

Hobie doesn't normally lose himself in his instincts but when he does, it's a fucking shit show.

An anomaly had the ability to tamper with a person's inner instincts and either make them go from normal and calm to ready to fucking /kill/ somebody in ten seconds flat and Hobie was hit with the anomalies ability /hard/.

They managed to take the anomaly down but not before having to restrain Hobie in one of the many cells inside HQ, tying him up and restraining him with webs because he could easily break through Miguel's force fields with his electricity.

He's growling and snarling and rumbling uncontrollably, alpha instincts dialed to fucking /twelve/ at this point as he flails in his restraints. Lyla is trying to find some sort of cure that could perhaps disrupt the anomalies ability but, it seems it's all for naught because the ability affected Hobie's inner alpha on a genetic level, tampering with its level of emotions and hormones.

So, plan B.

Pav and Miles are omegas and, since they're all pack, they're automatically wired to cater and soothe alphas that are a part of their pack and calm them down. It's their last option essentially, this or wait until the ability runs its course through his system and leaves his body.

Miles is nervous but Pav is immediately attempting to cater to Hobie's instincts.

He lays down only a few feet away from the snarling alpha and settles onto his back, showing off his tummy like a puppy would and begins to purr like no one's business. His scent sweetens and he coos. "Alpha," Pav whines and tilts his head cutely up at Hobie with pleading eyes. "Alphaaaa."

Hobie doesn't cease his snarling but he does pause for a moment and sniff the air, his own scent slightly turning more and more sweet instead of the bitter scent he was originally giving off and huffs.

Miles, who doesn't have a lot of experience in letting his inner Omega run free but IS slowly starting to learn, attempts to mimic Pav and crawls on the floor towards Hobie and trills.

"Alpha," Pav whimpers. "Please, alpha, scent us? We're so lonely, alpha."

"Please," Miles nearly jerks out of his own skin as his inner Omega slips through his voice, his instincts purring at him to continue and confidence suddenly bursts through him. "Alpha, calm down, please? Come scent us, please..."

Hobie twitches and he rumbles underneath his breath. "Omegas..." He breathes. "My omegas. My pack."

"Yes," Pav grins and sits up so he can climb into Hobie's lap and he rubs his head underneath Hobie's chin. "Alpha, you smell so sweet. Scent us, alpha. Scent us."

Miles follows suit and snuggles on the other side of their alpha and nuzzles his throat. "Hobie," He whispers, gaining control again and his inner Omega begins to slip away. "Come back to us. Alpha, please?"

"My omegas," Hobie whispers and seems to slowly come back to himself as he playfully nibbles on Pav's neck to make the younger Omega shriek with laughter and Miles breathes a sigh of relief as Hobie turns to him and their heads slowly bonk in a display of affection. "Mm, 'at happened? Fuckin' knackered..."

Pav coos and kisses all over his cheeks and both he and Miles begin to release him from his bonds and pull Hobie into a gentle hug.

"Got hit with an /ugly/ ability that messed with your inner alpha," Miles explained. "But, we managed to calm you down, it seems. Glad you're okay, man...we were really worried."

Hobie huffs and smiles at them before gently combing his hands through their hair.

"That's my omegas," He praises them with a grin and kisses at their noses and lips. "Always takin' care of me. My perfect mates."

Gwen joins them not too long after, rushing over with relieved tears in her eyes and she joins their huddle, snuggling in-between all of them and Hobie makes sure to kiss and scent her as well, praising her for doing a good job at restraining him to make sure he didn't hurt any of them.

Thankfully, no one had been injured and that night, all four of them went home and snuggled into their giant nest, happy to be together again.

[matchibee]

Stay

something something, you get injured, something something, Miguel’s reaction.

I honestly didn’t know where to go w this I just knew I wanted it to go somewhere, not proofread

It wasn’t easy, god this was difficult. Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you moved fluidly, a river of your own creation. So sure in your movement, so unique in your existence.

Miguel couldn’t help it if his gaze lingered for one, two then three seconds too long. Couldn’t help if when the two of you exchanged glances he wanted nothing more than to dive into your eyes, submerged in a gaze that reflected how deeply he yearned to touch you.

But Miguel was afraid.

He was far more afraid than he’d ever prove capable of admitting, a man scorn by the flame of grief, fanning the embers that threatened to spread.

Couldn’t his broken mind repair itself so he could indulge in your presence?

Perhaps it was too much to ask.

But the multiverse asked too much of him, simultaneously. Asked too much as it placed an incarnate of perfection before his very eyes, a small piece of heaven practically in the palm of his hand, but a man as corrupted as Miguel couldn’t dare touch you. He didn’t want to condemn you to the depths of whatever lied within this sphere of rock and ash.

But who did Miguel think he was fooling? Try as he might, there was no force in this universe that could cease his rampant mind, a man on edge. To keep from reaching out to you exercised a great deal of strength, Miguel practically groveling in your presence.

Thank goodness nobody had taken notice.

Right?

“Miguel can be… interesting.” You told the group of spiders at your table — Pavitr, Hobie, Gwen and Peter B. “But I don’t think he treats me any differently than anyone else.”

The collective groans left you taken aback, munching on your collection of a meal as you gave them a moment to speak their peace.

“I’ve never seen him yell at you, never! You don’t find that a bit odd?” Pavitr was by far the most passionate about the subject, vocal without hesitance. A young boy in the midst of his own love wanting nothing more than to see those he cared for engrossed in adoration as palpable as his own.

But perhaps it would be best if you reconsidered who you attracted, for his mental health.

Just so he could sleep at night.

“Maybe I dont screw up as often as you guys do.” You shrugged your shoulders, not buying anything they had to say. Miguel didn’t like you, he was your boss, a man battling inner demons. He didn’t have time for affections, let alone those feelings stemming from a member who’d arrived only a short time prior to Gwen.

“Pav has a point,” Gwen spoke up, all eyes on her. “He seems… less angry whenever you’re around.”

Through a sip of your beverage you let out a spur of sarcasm. “Wow, revolutionary.”

“It is a bit odd the only missions you ever go on are with him, yeah? Like the bossman wants to protect his little secret.”

The call of your name, Lyla appearing at your shoulder, startling you from the conversation.

“What’s up, Lyla?”

“Miguel’s looking for you in his office — says he needs you for a mission.”

The table erupted into a cacophony of ooo’s, eyebrows wiggling as smirks graced their mischievous faces. “Shut it,” Your groaned through clenched teeth. “You’re forgetting whose AI this is.”

“Oh, she knows all about your little crush on Miguel, mate.” Hobie always proved to be the blunt one, an anarchist with a mission for mischief. “What we’re tryna figure out is if the man upstairs fancies you.”

“He’s not… Hobie, do you know what—“

The call of your name once more, this time from a voice that proved even more familiar, bodies growing stiff as you opened the communication channel. “I had Lyla call you five minutes ago. We have to get going.”

Your response fell from your lips without missing a beat. “Right, on it.”

“Get some!” Hobie bellowed, your jaw going slack as you made a dangerous bout of eye contact, glare like daggers, Hobie not one to retreat from a challenge.

“Get what?” Miguel was confused on the line, and though you couldn’t see his face you knew his palms fell to his hips. “What are you getting?”

“Hobie was asking Peter B. to grab him more empanadas.” The lie slipped from your tongue as though it was awaiting the moment it would escape. “Bring me some too, won’t you, Peter?”

The man mumbled a string of words, obviously dazed, yet rising from his seat nonetheless. “I’ll be there in a sec.” You told Miguel, Hobie chiming in with a ‘Damn straight.’ just before you could close off the channel.

Was it too late to change professions?

You strolled into Miguel’s lair with hesitant movement, the scene previous playing through your mind like a twisted nightmare, one you feared to recall was memory. “You wanted to see me?"

Of course Miguel wanted to see you, his guiltiest of pleasures. It would be a lie to say he hadn't meticulously chosen you for this mission, a low-stakes anomaly that could've been bested by even the most juvenile of Spider-People.

An opportunity to hear your voice, to watch as the sunlight bounced against your skin, shimmering as though gilded by the heavens.

"I thought you were getting an empanada?" His eyes had merely flickered to you, your body and the way you seemed to lean away, your gaze that refused to meet his.

Shit.

"I ate it on the way here."

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Miguel was fiddling with the screens manifested before him, switching between useless tabs, needing to do something with his hands.

You furrowed your brows. "Why not?"

"Wouldn't want you choking."

Your lips curled into a smile then, a genuine expression hidden beneath your mask, suddenly grateful you'd opted to wear in on the way here. It was such a simple string of words, hardly a declaration of love, but within his extension there was concern, affection.

"We should get going." After all, you had things to tend to in your own dimension, never a dull moment. "Wouldn't wanna leave my universe hanging."

Your universe.

Miguel loathed to think you were from another dimension, a domain apart from his embrace. If he had it his way, and it seemed the cards were never in his favor, Miguel would keep you alongside him here for eternity.

But you had duties, responsibilities.

Relationships.

His heart clenched at the thought, the prospect that someone was waiting for you upon your return, someone that wasn't him.

But a man could dream.

In life there was love, so many infinite forms there was only a matter of time before Miguel could call you his. And perhaps if it wasn't in this lifetime it would be the next. Just as he wasn't meant to be a father in this life, perhaps he wasn't destined for affection, either.

Wordlessly, Miguel opened the portal, stepping into the multicolored spiral, not waiting for you to accompany him.

After all, he knew you'd be there without fail.

Upon your emergence Miguel already had Lyla surveying the area for debris, any clue towards discovering the presence of the entity. "Oh!" Lyla had perked up from her crouched position, analyzing a coat she'd been eyeing for quite some time. "They're just up ahead."

Miguel looked to you from over his shoulder, eyes behind his mask making you feel impossibly small. "Ready?"

"Always."

-------------------

Too much to handle, far too much to handle.

The only words that penetrated your mind as a Chameleon variant dragged you through concrete, the material of your suit having ripping along your shoulder, trailing down to your forearm.

There had proven to be multiple anomalies, something Miguel hadn't accounted for, the man rushing off to bring yet another Vulture variation to their knees, leaving you stuck with a knock-off Chameleon.

In an attempt to break free you repositioned yourself onto your back, pain spreading far quicker than previously, pushing your legs up against the reptile's chest and repelling him as far as your legs could throw him.

But the variant was relentless, baring his teeth as he charged towards you without a second thought, entirely unhinged. In one fell swoop he had you thrown up against the side of a building, mind abuzz with static as you fell onto your knees, an imprint of your body immortalized within the concrete structure.

Blood trickled down your nose, chapped lips stained a cruel crimson. You peeled your mask from your face in an effort to get some semblance of air, breaths heaving, a piercing pain erupting throughout your chest.

Still, you rose to your feet, fists held out in front of you.

"You Spider-people are so annoying," Chameleon spoke in a voice like pins and needles. "Always getting back up no matter how hard I knock you down."

You laughed, a chuckle that bubbled in your stomach despite the pain. "That's kinda part of your job description."

Chameleon clicked his tongue. "And your death is a requirement for mine."

"Well now you're just lying."

Chameleon didn't entertain your attempt at humor for a second, lunging towards you, body knocking into a streetlamp, the post denting upon impact.

This variant really had a proclivity for tossing people. Maybe if villainy didn't work out he could pursue a career in the major leagues.

And while the image was entertaining, a humanoid reptile dominating home plate, you weren't sure how much longer you could remain conscious. Your vision was a blur, multicolored apparitions bubbling across your peripheral, invading clarity. It was only a matter of time before your body conceded, giving into the aches and pains, the sleep beckoning your name.

No, wait. Someone was literally calling your name.

The seas of blur parted for just a moment, Miguel rushing towards you as though a valiant knight in his blue-red armor. In one fell swoop he had Chameleon on his knees, the variant powerless against his strength. He was sent to the holding facility, he flash of light indicating you'd won.

Well, Miguel had won, but it was your victory all the same.

In a flash your body went limp, Miguel there to hold you close, head held within the palm of his hand, yearning for you to stay with him.

"Hey," Miguel was speaking in whispers, heartbeat rampant as he felt your limp form against him. "We can go back now, we won."

Your hand pressed up against his chest, just barely missing his cheek. "I'm fine right here."

Miguel had never seen you like this, injured and entirely vulnerable. He hated it, despised it, prayed to whoever could hear him that he could take your pain away, shoulder it for himself.

"No," Miguel shook his head profusely, tears brimming in his eyes, but you couldn’t see them through vision that speckled like constellations. "We're taking you back to HQ, taking you—"

Miguel watched as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder, the only display of affection your aching bones could manage. "Let’s stay here, Miguel."

He’d stay with you for eternity if it meant Miguel could have you, swimming through the river styx until all he knew was your pain, damming himself for just the opportunity to see you once more.

Miguel looked into your eyes, truly looked into them, his hands pressed against your shoulders, calling your name through your delirium. In orbs with a painfully distant gaze he could see himself, the way his face contorted into an expression of refusal — Miguel couldn’t lose you, would rather succumb to darkness that have to give up something he held close.

“I’m here,” Miguel whispered your name, tears like raindrops pattering against your skin. “I’ll always be here.”

But if Miguel made such a promise, an oath that chained his heart, he needed you to make it too. “But you have to stay with me, okay?”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been down, how long you fought your mind to obey you, ignore the pain coursing across your skin, infecting your soul. But it was Miguel who brought you back, Miguel who danced his lips across the top of your head. “I need you.”

And you needed him too, more than he could ever know.

You snapped back quicker than you’d believed possible, mind buzzing with emotion, your senses enveloped by everything Miguel.

A gaze of flame that burned with your image, reflected in flecks of gold, an ember that trickled into a wildifre at just the mere mention of your name — a gaze so intense if you looked into his eyes for too long you might burn, erupt into a pillar of light as oblivion reached to interlace your fingertips in eternity.

And despite the intensity, the heat radiating off of him, there was nothing you yearned for more than you yearned to be with him, to exist within him. You’d accept nihility with open arms if it only meant a second of his touch.

“You’re here,” You smiled through the pain, entirely believing you’d been hallucinating Miguel’s presence until this very moment.

“You needed me.”

His words were instantaneous, missing not a single beat. He held you closer than he’d ever been capable before, a climax to this tension that festered in the pits of his stomach.

“Thank you,” You whispered, arms wrapping around his shoulders, enveloping him as closely as you proved capable. “I love you.” The words slipping from your lips without a second thought.

You could feel how tense Miguel grew, entirely rigid. And though the words tickled his throat, a pain like nothing before, Miguel couldn’t help the yearning of his heart. “I love you too.”

There was something about those three words that left you in a state of delirium, body yearning for everything that encompassed Miguel, entirely incapable of alternate thought.

“Miguel,” You spoke, limbs still sore, entirely conscious you couldn’t move on your own. “Can we go?”

The man chuckled, hand stroking down your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze would be entirely on him. Slowly, as though you might shatter, Miguel drew closer.

"Where should I take you?" Miguel mumbled against your lips, still concious of the injuries slowly healing in their own time.

"Home."

And with a smile, one that burned his cheeks, Miguel took you back to Nueva York.

[aphroditesmoon]

fem reader attending one of gwen stacys band shows and just being distracted by how gorgeous she is 🤞🤞?

see how it shines

gwen stacy x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff, lyrics from the song; risk by mega mango.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this lovely <3

♡♡♡

THE SHOW has already started. You were about 15 minutes late due to the absolute horrid traffic. The scene wasn't one you'd see yourself to ever be in if you were honest.

You enjoyed music much more in a less crowded company. The sweating and the yelling could get tiring after a full 20 minutes. But once you've slid into the front rows of the crowd, you feel as if the whole world had gone quiet.

They were still there and they are still singing and yelling, buf it all felt like a background noise then. The kind you'd put on using the television or a radio while you actually focus on whatever it is that's consuming you. And when your eyes had met the sight of the infamous drummer, Gwen Stacy.

You'd realized then that she was the focus in this situation. You supposed you should thank her for the front row tickets.

The two of you had met in a record shop,  you were looking for a good ole Amy Winehouse when as she lets her eyes search the section, left arm alredy hanging onto an Indigo De Souza vinyl. She'd introduced you to new music that evening, with a ticket to one of her shows near your area.

The lead singer had a mesmerizing voice, but you found yourself zeroing on the beats of her drum, and the way it matches the tune so easily. As the music gets louder, the lyrics became clearer too as you try your best to sing along with the rest of the crowd.

"I know I'm not alone or far from home...but I'm freezin.." It sounded like the type of music she'd make. Just the vibe she gave off. Though you almost expected her to be a rock kind of girl. Her eyes were stuck to her instruments, she was there but she wasn't. And when she opened her eyes and risked a glance to the crowd, your arms instinctively goes up to wave. Her eyes meet yours, and your anxious heart relaxes when she smiles at you. "...I've been up all night..." 

You were embarrassed of yourself for raising your hand. But her notice rid you of your humiliation. Besides, you were sure no one else besides her even saw it in the first place.

She had a leather jacket on, with bright coloured pins on them. You wondered when was the last time you saw someone who looked this good in a leather jacket on real life, someone in a band too.

The dimly purple coloured lights gave her a glow that convinced you she must be an angel at the moment. The absolute passion in the way her hands moved made her stand out to you the same way rainbows do in hazy skies after a heavy rain. Like it just made sense. You ignore the slight nausea you were suddenly feeling. Stop getting overexcited. You scolded your nerves. You heart was weak, and what with this full of fire of a being in front of you, you'd let her consume your whole being if she wanted to, with the way her eyes are twinkling slightly like faded stars, and she's smirking at you like she knows you'll do anything if she'd just ask.

The rest of the one and a half hour show, you felt drunk of the lively atmosphere. The smell of sweat ceased to bug you every time Gwen acknowledged your presence with a look. You had waited for her once the show ended. Doubts risen of whether you should've just left as everyone currently was, but the drummer herself was quick to find you before you could change your mind.

She beckoned you to the corner of the stage. The air felt less stuffier as people moved to the exit, and yet your chest was piunding like you lacked it with every step you took. A silly grin was plastered on your face, and how happy you felt to see her sharing the same expression.

The spotlights was being shut off when you reached her. You failed to hold yourself back from a hug, arms wrapping themselves around her as if they're used to doing it. The sudden jerk of her body told you she wasn't expecting it, hut she returned it as easily. "I didn't think you'd come." She teases.

You pulled away from her, againts your own want. "Well I did." You replied awkwardly, hands feeling empty as they leave her body. "You did." She repeated.

"And I'm glad you did. Did you like our songs?" You nodded. "I liked seeing you play, you seem passionate about drumming-" Her fingers finds your own before she pulls you with her to the backstage. "-like you're lost in your own world when you start playing." She lets out an awkward laugh at that.

The rest of her bandmates barely glance at her as she brings you into a room with her name by the door. The lead singer was the only one who looked your way, winking at her before he went back to talking with another girl. "I feel like I'm in a different world when I play." She states before closing her door.

You took a seat on the single couch in the cramped room, watching as she finishes off a bottle of water on her desk. "That's nice. " you replied genuinely. "I've never really had any particular thing I liked to doing, or am good at." You explained. If she looked like she wasn't listening before, she completely turned herself towards you as she sits on the spinning chair opposite you, completely paying attention. "Oh there must be something you like to do." You chuckle at that and shook your head slightly. "I mean, I like reading, and sometimes I play video games or something. But nothing I'd say that I'm particular sure I'm passionate about."

She gives an understanding  'ah', nodding her head at your words.

"Maybe you just haven't found it yet, I mean- I know everyone says that a lot...but sometimes your passion could just be out there, waiting in a...random concert you've been coereced to go, or maybe its in the form of a cooking book recipe? You know what I mean?" You nodded. You did know.

"You never know until you actually try the things you never have before. Maybe, drumming could be your passion, who knows?" You laughed in a suprised manner at her teasing. The blonde girl grinned warmly at you, raising a brow. "What? I'm serious! I could give you a few lessons." You hummed and smiled brightly at her.

"Oh I'm very sure music isn't it, I can't even read music notes." You confessed, earning an audible gasp from her. "What?"

"Mmhm." You confirmed, scrunching your nose at her. "All the more reasons to teach you." She decided, earning another laugh from you. "You are relentless!" You noted. She shrugged and moved her chair closer to you. "The things you'd do to spend more time with another person." She whispers loud enough for your ears. You feel your cheek warming at her obvious flirting attempts. But with the pressure to come up with something smart to say back, you ended up saying nothing instead, mouth open, yet speechless.

"Sorry." She apologies when she sensed your quietness. "I have a tendency to move too fast-" You stand up abruptly, cutting off her trail of words. "Oh no- not at all!" She days nothing, waiting for you to continue. "I just, well I just didn't think you'd like me like that."

She frowns when you're done. Standing up herself, so she'd be in an eye level as you. "I've been trying to get your number since we first met at the record shop." Oh. she did. You hadn't given her because you were sure that she was just joking. "And I would love to have your number still, If you're fine with that." You were sure you're looking like an idiot with how big your smile was.

"For drumming lessons?" You joked. The corners of her eyes crinkles adorably as she dissolves into a giggle. "And other lessons you could be interested in."

[tekehu]

people making him into a weird hollow shape of what he actually is like all 'papi' and 'mami' and sex god this and obsessed aggressive guy that and speaking spanish in a fetishistic way and he's reduced to angry and mean and liking empanadas and his not-daughter and being an asshole like please learn to read beneath the lines please try to understand character depth because it is so clearly obvious with this guy it makes me tear my hair out. he's been grieving and shouldering the weight of not only his not-daughter but an entire reality ceasing to exist because of him and he's barely sleeping and yes he's easily irritated because of those previous points BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT THE FIRST ONE TO HAPPEN AGAIN and he doesn't see any other solution than what he's known to prevent it from happening he's been the one to keep the multiverse in check he's been the one to build the spider-society he feels like he's the only one who has to do it he tries to repent for something he didn't know would happen, had no way of knowing, and yes he was nasty towards miles a majority of the time but he also tried to console him about something he doesn't have any other known solution to and he chose to take gwen in because of her situation and he was so light-hearted in the epilogue of the first movie and it's still there in some scenes it's just buried a little deeper but you can find it and he isn't evil and he isn't just that weird weird fantasy that has been going around everywhere please stop

[amber-of-ember-glows]

Title: Somewhere between Then, Now, and When

Merlin loses Arthur twice. Each time is more painful than the other in its unique devastation. Once, on a plain by Avalon, when the world had come to a standstill as Arthur’s heart ceased its rhythm. Then, centuries later, it happens again. Merlin doesn’t realize it until he meets a man with fair hair and blue eyes and thinks, that man looks like Arthur. Days later, he comes across another man fitting the same criteria and again thinks, that man looks like Arthur, too. It doesn’t occur to him until later that the two men look nothing alike and cannot both resemble Arthur in any logical manner. On paper, in written and verbal depictions, they could very well look like Arthur—blond, blue eyes, sharp features—but the stark differences between the two strangers clash in ways that make it impossible for both to resemble Arthur.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Merlin realizes that his memory of Arthur has faded. The feelings of love, loss, and grief still thrum through him, but the image of Arthur has blurred. Tears burn behind his eyes as he tries to uncover memories that are out of his reach. That night, his dreams are plagued by his first life—the most important one. The one that urges him to move forward even when he can find no reason to do so, that has him clinging with all his might to the words Kilgarrah left him with, holding onto hope because it is all he has left.

As if to further torment him, he dreams of everything in perfect clarity. He experiences anew the warmth of Gwen’s smile, the care of Gaius’ gaze, and Gwaine’s hearty laugh. He sees the sturdy castle walls that used to house him, the parapets, the Citadel square, and the statues in it, the familiar forest surrounding Camelot. Everything comes to him in clear detail. Everything except for Arthur. In his dreams, the shape of Arthur in his crown and Pendragon-red cloak stands in stark contrast to the blur of his face, ever-shifting features that refuse to settle and let the image of him sharpen so that Merlin may see him properly.

He wakes feeling worse than he has in a long time, if ever. When Merlin lost Arthur the first time, when he died, he knew what he had lost, was haunted by the image of Arthur, heard and felt him so clearly that for a time he believed that Arthur’s ghost lingered on this plane, that he had been with him even in the aftermath of his death. Facing reality and acknowledging that his grief was making him see and believe things that weren’t so had been debilitating, bedridden him for days. He stopped sleeping because his dream-self had not caught on to the fact that Arthur was gone, and every morning upon waking, he was forced to feel the loss again, had no choice but to agonizingly remember once more that Arthur had drawn his last breath, had eaten his last meal, had shed his last tear and smiled his last smile. All before he had made it to the age of thirty.

Every day, Merlin faced how long a life was ahead of him in the bereavement of Arthur. Every day, he forced himself not to wish for Albion’s downfall just so Arthur would have a reason to return to him. Every day, he was haunted and blessed by Arthur’s face and voice. He never imagined there would come a day that he would have to live without even the memory of those. He feels cold and hollow in their absence, nothing more than a shell of a man. Despite the emptiness, he feels too big for his skin, his body too tightly wound around him, his lungs clambering for air in their tight confinements. You forgot him! a voice in his head throws at him, accusatorily. The truth of it cuts him open, brands him with unfamiliar guilt so unlike any he has ever dealt with—and he has dealt with plenty—that it threatens to undo him. But like with everything else, he learns how to live with it, learns how to carry that added weight wherever he goes, soothes himself with the fact that even though he does not remember every dip and peak of Arthur's face, cannot recall the finer details of it, he still loves Arthur dearly, would still do whatever it takes for him. And that will have to be enough. For now.