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deebris · 3 months

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From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

#imagine #x reader #homelander #the boys season 4 #homelander x reader #the boys x reader #oneshot #the boys amazon #homelander x you #the boys s4 #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #antony starr x reader #the boys homelander #the boys the deep #sister sage

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seivsite · 1 year

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KITTY’S CHARM.

includes: lyney x fem!reader. lyney knows reader but reader doesn’t know lyney, he’s a cat like the one in his hat, soft kisses, fluff, lyney is a flirt & a tease, not proofread — wc: 570

“Ah, hello there, kitty,” you whispered softly, your fingers gently caressing the small cat’s fur.

“What brings you out here all alone?”You picked up the cat, feeling it nuzzle against your knee with a gentle lean.

“Meow〜”

“Alright, little one, I’ll take you home. Just remember, no wreaking havoc on my couch,” you playfully cautioned, cradling the cat tenderly as you made your way back home.

Upon arriving home, the cat gracefully hopped out of your arms, already making itself at ease in its newfound surroundings.

“Why so restless, huh? You’re already at home,” you teased, watching the ebony feline’s paw gently tap at your pants.

As night fell, you embarked on your customary routine—slipping into comfortable pajamas and placing a glass of water on your bedside table. The dark cat followed suit, sauntering into your room and settling onto your bed, finding a cozy spot as you nestled in.

“Come here, kitty,” you coaxed, spreading your arms and the blanket invitingly. The cat nestled in close, its content purrs of delight filling the air as you held it close.

“Goodnight, kitty,” you murmured, bestowing a tender kiss upon its nose before surrendering to a tranquil slumber.

Nestling closer to the warmth beside you, you sleepily enveloped it with your arms.

To your astonishment, you realised an arm in your grasp, and tracing further down, your fingers met another hand. As your eyes shot open in shock, you were met with the sight of an ash-blond man in your bed.

“WHO ARE YOU, AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!” you exclaimed, launching a pillow at the man, who adeptly evaded it.

“I’m Kitty, or you can call me Lyney," he replied, his innocent smile attempting to defuse the situation.

“The magician? How and why were you a cat?!” you persisted, only to be silenced by his finger pressing gently against your lips.

“Well, Madam, it appears I accidentally imbibed a potion and found myself transformed into a cat. Thankfully, you stumbled upon me and came to my rescue. So, might I offer you anything in return for your kindness?” he inquired playfully, conjuring a rainbow rose in his hand and extending it towards you.

“I’m not… quite sure,” you mused, holding the rose delicately in your hand. Suddenly, you felt his finger gently lifting your chin.

“How about bestowing me with another kiss?” he teased, leaning closer to you.

A rosy hue tinted your cheeks as his enchanting smile held you captive.

“That kiss was meant for the kitty, not you,” you stammered, nervously pressing your lips together.

“Hmm, but I’m still the kitty in human form, aren’t I?” he persisted, his playful tone lingering in the air.

“Come on, just one little kiss,” he pleaded, his eyes sparkling.

“Not a chance.”

“Not even on the cheek?” he pouted, his playful charm impossible to resist.

“Ugh, fine,” you relented, your exasperation evident in a soft groan. You leaned in to plant a swift peck on what you believed to be his cheek, only to find him moving his head, causing your lips to meet his in a surprising twist.

“Thank you for the sweet kiss, my lady,” he whispered, a playful wink accompanying his words.

He chuckled softly as he watched your cheeks turn a delicate shade of red. Your endearing display of shyness only deepened his affection for you, making him fall even more head over heels.

NOTES. he’s very writeable, i keep thinking about cat noir whenever i write about him

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

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xomakara · 2 months

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Welcome Home

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | In which you jump Seonghwa’s bones after he comes home from tour.

PAIRING | Seonghwa x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | Idol!Seonghwa, non-idol!Reader, smut with no plot, literally just pure unadulterated filthy smut, consensual sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), fingering, dirty talk, pet names (angel, baby), praise kink, kitchen counter sex, filthy sex, oral sex

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 3,281 words

TAGLIST | @noir-aria

NETWORKS | @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Literally wrote this in like 4 hours because my friend wanted me to. just pure, filthy pwp doesn't take me that long to write lolol. Apologies if it sounds rushed or whatnot lol. My friend sent me this video and I was inspired lololol. And now I shall drown myself in holy water.

Seonghwa was not ready for the attack you launched at him when he strode into the apartment after a few months of touring, but he was never one to turn you down. You'd jumped him in the entryway, lips finding his and legs around his waist before he could even get his jacket off.

He had his hands under your ass, keeping you from falling, and when he tried to pull away, you bit his lip, earning a deep groan. You smirked at him, and he walked forward, pressing your back into the wall and kissing you deeply. Your fingers slid into his hair and you tugged him closer, your body grinding against his.

You moaned softly, and he pulled away, "I missed you, baby." He murmured, kissing your jaw. “But why the sudden attack?" He asked.

You pouted, "You're supposed to be happy." You said, and he laughed.

"Baby, I am happy. I'm very, very happy. But this is unexpected. Not that I'm complaining." He said, squeezing your ass and kissing you again. "It's just, I expected a nice greeting, a kiss, a hug, maybe something to eat, and a shower."

"But-"

"But nothing." He said, "I'm not upset. I just wanted to know what had you so needy. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

You looked at him, biting your lip, "I don’t like watching my boyfriend half naked and gyrating his hips through a screen. I know it’s your job but just the thought of other girls seeing your naked chest or your sexy, smoldering looks...I don't like it. I don’t share, Seonghwa.”

"Awww baby." He smiled, kissing you, "How many times do I have to tell you I only have eyes for you? You're the only one I want to see, the only one I want to be with. It's always been you and only you. So, no worries."

"Mmm, still." You hummed, nuzzling into his neck, your feet landing back on the ground.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" He asked, hands on your hips.

“Nope."

"Fine. I'm sorry for being a sexy, gyrating, half-naked idol on stage and making you all hot and bothered. There. Will you forgive me now?" He said, leaning in close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"No." You said, and he raised his brows, surprised.

"You're mad." He said.

"Yes."

"Because I'm a sexy gyrating half-naked idol onstage that makes you all hot and bothered."

"Yes."

"So, what's the solution here? I'm sorry. I'll wear a shirt next time. Or I'll do some hip thrusts and then I can take my shirt off and I can do the thrusting thing.

"I'm not mad at you for doing your job. I'm mad that you're sexy and I don't like the thought of other people seeing you like that. I don't want anyone else to have that view."

"So, you want to claim me. Mark me. Make me yours." He said, and you nodded. "You want to tie me down and mark every inch of my body with your lips."

"Yes. I do."

"Hmm. What are we going to do about that?" He said, smirking.

You pushed him back until he hit the wall, dropping to your knees in front of him, your fingers making quick work of his belt and zipper. You tugged his pants and boxers down, and his cock sprang out. He was already hard and throbbing.

“Fuck…” Seonghwa let out a moan as your lips wrapped around his cock. Your mouth is warm and wet, and it feels so good to Seonghwa that he just has to let out a loud moan. You start sucking him, going all the way to the base before slowly going back up, tongue swirling on the tip and then licking down the vein on the underside.

You repeat this a few more times, and every time Seonghwa lets out a string of profanities, saying how good it feels and how you are the only one who can do it. His fingers run through your hair and grips them, but he doesn't force your head down, letting you work your magic at your own pace.

And you love the noises he makes, moans and grunts coming out from his plump lips. He's the prettiest like this, you thought, pants down, lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, exposing the column of his neck. He looks ethereal, a sight to behold, and he's yours, only yours.

You start moving faster, bobbing your head and swallowing around his cock. You feel his hips twitch and thrust up, pushing his dick even deeper inside your mouth, and you moan, the vibrations making him groan loudly.

"Fuck, angel. You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good. Such a good girl." He praises you, making you look up. Seonghwa is staring at you, mouth parted and eyes half-lidded, looking so fucking hot that you felt yourself get wetter.

You continue sucking him, hollowing your cheeks as you pull out and lapping at the head when you come back down. Your tongue swirls around the tip and then you suck him again. Seonghwa's hands are in your hair, not moving, just keeping you in place.

You pull away, lips red and swollen, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the tip of his dick.

"Seonghwa," you say, voice hoarse and rough. "You love it when I suck your cock?"

"God, yes, baby. It feels so good." He groans as you go back down on him, bobbing your head up and down quickly.

"You like seeing my lips wrapped around your cock? Do you think I look pretty?" You ask him, and Seonghwa nods frantically, telling you how good you look, and how pretty your mouth looks while you suck him.

"Yeah? Am I pretty for you, Hwa?"

"Yes, so fucking pretty." Seonghwa moans out. "God, so pretty, all mine."

You continue sucking him, taking him down until you almost gagged. His hips buck up, and you moan.

"I want to cum, baby. Make me cum." He says.

You keep going, moving up and down his shaft, tongue pressing at the sensitive spot on the underside. Seonghwa is a moaning mess, saying your name like a prayer, and it turns you on even more, and you are sure that your panties are ruined by now.

He pulls your head back and tells you to open your mouth.

"Stick your tongue out, angel." He says, and you obey. You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, and Seonghwa holds his cock and starts pumping it quickly, eyes fixed on your tongue.

"Fuck, such a pretty sight." He murmurs, and he cums, his release landing on your tongue and face. You moan at the feeling of his warm cum on your skin. Seonghwa continues to pump his cock, and some of his release lands on your cheeks, lips, and chin.

When he's done, he pulls you up and kisses you hungrily. He can taste himself on your lips, and it turns him on.

"You're so dirty, angel." He whispers, licking his own cum off your lips. "Such a dirty girl, letting me cum on your pretty little face."

"You made me like this, Hwa." You reply. "And now, you have to take care of me."

"I will." He says, pulling you in for another kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving to your neck, and you throw your head back, giving him better access. He sucks on the spot just below your ear, and you gasp, fingers curling in his hair.

He continues sucking and biting, leaving hickeys and bruises on your neck and shoulders. You moan, loving the feeling of his lips on your skin, and you feel him smirk against your shoulder.

"You like this, baby?" He asks, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes," You breathe out. "I love it."

Seonghwa pulls away and starts taking his clothes off, and you follow suit, shedding your own clothing and tossing them on the floor. When you are both naked, Seonghwa pulls you close, and you can feel his erection pressed against your stomach. You grind against him, and he lets out a low growl.

"Someone's impatient." He teases.

"Can you blame me? It's been too long." You say.

"I know, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll take care of you."

"Then hurry up." You whine. “I don’t care where we fuck.”

"So bossy." He says and he picks you up and carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the island. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and roughly, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His cock rubs against your pussy, and you let out a moan, breaking the kiss.

Seonghwa's lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks on it, and you let out a gasp. His tongue swirls around the bud and he nibbles it, then he moves to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer and holding him in place. He sucks and bites, leaving hickeys and marks on your chest. When he's done, he moves lower, kissing and biting your skin, marking you as his. You feel his hands at the juncture between your thighs, fingers brushing against your dripping cunt.

"Seonghwa.." You moan his name.

"You're so wet." He says as he unlatched from your nipple and trails down kisses on your neck, biting and sucking on the skin.

"It's your fault. You made me this wet." You whine as he rubs your clit.

"Really? And how did I do that?" He asks, teasing. He's still rubbing your clit, and the friction is driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Seonghwa."

"Answer me, angel." He says, plunging two fingers inside of you. You throw your head back and moan, feeling Seonghwa's long, slender fingers curl up inside of you.

"Oh, fuck!" You moan.

"C'mon, answer me. How did I make you this wet?" He says, thrusting his fingers into you, and you swear that you could feel his fingertips brush against your g-spot.

"You and your filthy mouth." You managed to say, and he chuckles, fingers continuing to move in and out of you.

"Do you like my filthy mouth, angel? I like using it to make you feel good. Like this." He says, pulling his fingers out of you, and before you could complain, he has already replaced it with his mouth.

"Shit." You let out a breathy moan, and your hand finds its way to his hair, tugging on it as his tongue moves against you.

He licks and sucks on your clit, occasionally dipping his tongue inside you.

"You taste so good, baby." He murmurs, lips pressed against your sensitive skin. "So fucking delicious."

"Shit, shit." You curse, hips rolling to meet his tongue.

He continues to eat you out, tongue and lips working together to make you feel good. His tongue is hot and wet, and it feels so damn good. He moans against your pussy, and you swear you could feel the vibrations up to your spine. He laps at your clit, tongue circling the bundle of nerves. You're a moaning mess, curses spilling from your mouth as you grip his hair. You look down, and you see him staring at you.

His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and they are burning with passion and desire. He's looking at you, watching your face contort in pleasure, and it's all because of him. He loves it when you lose control and submit to him, letting him make you feel good.

"Shit, Seonghwa." You moan, and he pulls away, kissing his way up to your neck and jaw, his lips pressing against your skin.

"God, you're so hot." He murmurs into your skin.

You whimper, wanting his mouth on your clit again.

"Hwa, please." You whine.

"Please, what?" He says, teasing.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You say, and he smiles, his hands gripping your thighs as he leans down, lips latching onto your clit again.

You roll your hips, grinding against his face, chasing the release that is so close, but so far.

"Hwa, please." You beg, and he obliges, tongue flicking against your clit faster. You moan, and soon enough, you are screaming his name, his tongue pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck!" You cry out, hips bucking against his face as your orgasm washes over you, making your vision white and your body shake.

"That's it, angel." He whispers, and he doesn't stop, his tongue and lips working you through your orgasm, prolonging it, and making it feel even better. When you are done, he pulls away and licks his lips, tasting the last bit of your orgasm.

"Fucking delicious." He murmurs and pulls you into a heated kiss, tongues clashing and teeth clacking, but neither of you care, too lost in each other to even notice.

He pulls away, and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locking with yours.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you." He groans, and you nod, not trusting your voice.

He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes inside of you, inch by inch, letting you adjust to his size. He groans, and you can feel him throb inside you.

"You feel so good, baby." He moans, and he starts moving, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you.

"God, Seonghwa." You moan, his name a mantra falling from your lips. He's hitting all the right spots, his cock filling you up and stretching you out in all the right ways.

"You're so tight, baby. So fucking tight." He moans, his thrusts picking up speed. “God, I fucking missed you. Missed this. Missed us.”

"Hwa, fuck." You cry out, his cock hitting all the right places.

"Yes, baby, yes." He says, his breath coming out in short pants. "Say my name, angel. Let me hear you scream it."

"Seonghwa." You moan, and he thrusts into you even harder, his cock hitting your sweet spot and making you see stars.

"You're so fucking sexy." He moans, his voice sending shivers down your spine and straight to your core.

You moan his name, his fingers digging into your hips, his grip almost painful, but you love it. You love the pain and the pleasure that he's giving you, the way he's fucking you, and the way his cock is making you feel.

"Fuck, Hwa." You moan, his hips snapping against yours.

"Say it again." He growls, his lips ghosting over your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

"Seonghwa." You moan, his name sounding like a prayer. "God, I fucking love you."

"I love you, too." He groans, his voice rough and hoarse, and it makes your knees weak.

You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer, and he moans, his lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss. His lips move against yours, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth.

He groans into the kiss, and his fingers are gripping your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts into you. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Hwa." You moan his name, and he smiles against your lips, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding in and out of you easily.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." He whispers, his voice rough and breathless.

"Me, too." You reply, your nails digging into his back.

He keeps going, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. Your legs are shaking, and your vision is starting to get blurry. You feel the familiar heat pooling in your lower belly, and you know that you're close.

"Seonghwa, fuck." You moan, and he groans, his thrusts getting faster and harder.

"Yes, angel, yes. Cum for me." He whispers, his voice a low rumble. "Cream all over my cock."

"Fuck, Hwa." You moan, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

"That's it, baby." He grunts. "Cum for me."

"Shit, I'm gonna-"You reach your orgasm, and you cry out his name, your pussy clenching around his cock.

"That's it, baby." He moans, and he cums soon after, his cock twitching inside of you as his release coats your walls.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, his cock still buried deep inside of you, the only sound in the room is the sounds of your heavy breathing.

“Baby, I know we both came but I really want to continue fucking you. You feel so good, and I don't want to let you go." He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

“I need more of you, Hwa.”

He stands up and picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you to the bedroom, his hands cupping your ass and holding you in place.

He carries you to the bed, and he lays you down, his body hovering over yours. He looks at you, his eyes dark with lust, and you can't help but moan.

"I should go on tour more often...if this is what happens when I get back." He smirks, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

"And leave me alone again? Fuck no." You say, pulling him closer and kissing him hungrily. "Don't need you going around being half-naked again."

"I was clothed." He chuckles.

"And everyone was still eye-fucking you."

"Well, it was worth it." He smirks.

"Oh, was it now?"

He chuckles, his lips moving to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin.

"Fuck, baby, you're so needy." He growls, and his hands are on your body, roaming your skin, touching and caressing.

"You made me like this, Seonghwa." You reply, your voice breathless and shaky. "I missed you so much."

"I know, baby, I know. I missed you too." He whispers and kisses you, his lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

You kiss him back, your fingers curling in his hair and tugging. He moans into the kiss, his lips moving against yours, and his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring and tasting.

Your hands are on his chest, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks and scratches. He groans, his hips rocking against yours, and his erection pressed against your thigh.

"God, baby, I missed you so much." He says, breaking the kiss, and he sits up, pulling you with him, and his lips move to your neck, sucking and biting the skin. "Missed your pretty little lips, your pretty tits, your pretty pussy."

You moan, his words sending shivers down your spine. You pull him closer, his lips finding yours again, and he kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring.

You grind against him, his erection pressing against your soaked pussy, and you can feel him throb and twitch. You moan, and he pulls away, his lips trailing down to your breasts, kissing and licking and biting the skin.

"Such a good girl, waiting for me to come home." He whispers, his lips pressing against the swell of your breast. "My beautiful, perfect girl. I love you so much."

"God, Hwa, I love you too." You moan, your fingers running through his hair. "Welcome back home."

"It's good to be home, baby." He says, sliding into you once more. "It's good to be home."

#illusionnet #blossomnet #atzhouse #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fanfics #ateez stories #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader

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bunnyrafe · 2 months

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intriguing… tell me more, what do rafe n babydoll argue about during sex?🤔 (idk why i feel a film noir character typing this xbxndn)

bestie… what don’t they argue about ??? as much as we love rafey and babydoll, they can be a little toxic. most of the time their arguments are about how much he works, money, or his attitude overall ‘cause we all know he has a short fuse…

“can’t stand the way you speak to me sometimes,” you huff out, tugging on his hair as he hovers above you.

the force behind his thrusts ‘n how well he fills you up makes it hard for you to get it out, but you piece each word together and hope for the best.

“yeah?” rafe grunts with a dangerous edge to his voice. he squeezes your hips in his palms— his grip is painful, makes you mewl while he continues on, “that right, babydoll?”

suddenly everything’s moving so much faster. his hands slip down, tucking themselves under your knees and forcing your body to fold in half under him while you squeal.

your lungs burn. every fiber of your being feels like it’s actively buzzing because you swear he’s almost too deep. and it’s fucking annoying, because how are you meant to stay mad when you barely have the consciousness to do so?

“well— nothin’s every fuckin’ good enough for you, but you don’t see me complaining ‘bout that…”

rafe murmurs over your parted lips, swallowing up the strained whimper that falls from them when the fat head of his cock kisses up on your cervix. the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth is wild now that he’s clearly pacified you and fucked the last bit of frustration right out of you— “so just be a good girl and lemme take care of this bratty cunt.”

#✉️ love letters #yeah….#lost my mind writing this #blue collar!rafe #babydoll!reader #𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎’𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓈 ♥︎

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paradlselost · 2 months

Text

Everybody 𝓛oves Somebody

earving x gn!reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ this was supposed to be fluff when i started writing but it sorta turned to hurt/comfort 💀. write an actual happy scene challenge (impossible) for me i guess. anyways this is the first fic I’ve posted on here with no smut so you know i have to make a part two with it 🙏

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ light breaking and entering 🤷 , hurt/comfort , Earving being a bit insecure , DEAN MARTIN ON THE TRACK WOOO , Earving being completely smitten with the reader , also being kinda a dork about old music , literally like 3 lines of dialog , no beta reading we die like Noir . 1.6k words

He doesn’t need to talk for you to understand him; the way desire laps at his every movement like cleansing flames. It’s what drove him here at this hour, to your little apartment in the city. And, if he had a bigger ego, to give you the opportunity to bask in the presence of one of the Seven.

His silence is unnerving in your quiet home. Somewhere in the distance cars go by and horns blare but it is muffled and seemingly unimportant in this room you stand in. There is a monster of a man in front of you, flakes of dried blood still marred the matte black armor that had become a second skin long before you two ever got acquainted.

You are acutely aware of his gaze from behind his soulless mask and every fiber of your being knows that, in this moment, you are his.

It feels strange sitting on his tongue; unable to escape his lips and be formed into words, how long has it been since he craved speech? How long since he had something for him and him only? He doesn’t know if he can answer that question, Vought takes everything sacred and turns it green. But he won’t let that happen, not this time, not with you.

If you weren’t pressed up against the counter by now, you would have been when he took a step forward. Measured and calculated; not too close as to push any boundaries or make you feel trapped, but to allow him to have a better view of you and your entirety. How beautiful you were, you are, to a being like him - who walks the line between monster and man so gracefully you might think he takes pride in it.

His breathing is audible and labored; like an overexcited dog, he pants against the balaclava that covers his lips and nose. A pitiful noise escapes his lips; choked and raw as though he hadn’t attempted to use it in years. He had learned to stop trying, to become the silent and deadly machine Vought had wanted him to be all along. But with you he suddenly found himself feeling inadequate.

Under the roof of your apartment and the stars in the night sky above; he is nothing but Earving, and that may be the scariest thing he’s ever had to face. Being entirely himself, entirely yours.

“It’s late, I didn’t think you would show up.” Your voice is soft as it breaks the quiet atmosphere, a hand gently reaching to caress his face through the thin black fabric. You’d never tire of the way he leaned into your touch.

A soft noise is all you get in response, something between a grumble and a murmur that lets you know how sorry he is to have kept you up so late, to have scared you with his entrance. It is never his intention to make you afraid; his heart simply yearns for the comfort of normalcy in a life with you.

It’s just him; no monster hiding in the shadows or figure at the end of the hall, he buries those for you - forces himself to push aside his machine like conditioning and display his heart and soul for your eyes only. How lucky you are, how lucky he is.

He wishes he would’ve met you sooner; that you could see him without his mask in the back of some room after a Payback meeting. That you could’ve kissed away the bruises left by Soldier Boy or the hot tears that stained his skin after not making his dream audition. What he wouldn’t give to have you then, to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and feel the giddiness of a teenage boy falling in love for the first time.

But he has to be content with the here and now; and while the feelings still drum in the back of his mind and fill his heart he can never be complete again. Never leave Vought to be yours, never take you to his grandmother's ranch upstate, never get married or give you children. He is broken and flawed, pieces of his past self flaked off and buried in time.

And you love him all the same; you look at him and his mask like he was crafted by the gods to answer any prayers you whispered to yourself in the dead of night. He hates it, in a way, because you give him all of you and he knows he can never return that. He knows in sixty years you will be dying and he will only just be feeling the effects of aging.

How cruel is the world that he only thinks these things around you? That when he sees your smiling face and feels the warmth of your touch he is reminded of how fleeting it all is; of how in a second it can be stripped from him like his speech, like half his brain.

You only watch as he steps away for a moment, he shys away once again and leaves you standing there, fingertips lingering with the warmth of his mask. He is careful as he makes his way over to a shelf in your living area, like he’s worried about breaking the floorboards under him or waking up your neighbors with his boots. It’s practiced, you’ve picked up on by now, how he is acutely aware of every sound he makes and how to minimize them.

Though, the quiet doesn’t seem to matter for long. A record is set on its player; Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody” crooning through the room. He seems stagnant over it for a moment, fingers grazing the speakers to feel the vibrations that leave it. He’s always been enamored with vinyls but he especially loves yours, loves using the music as an excuse to see you.

For tonight he can bury the insecurities that bubble in his chest and remind him how human he truly is; he can turn and take your hand in his and invite you to dance with him. And God, can he relish in the blush that coats your cheeks as you wrap your arms loosely around the back of his neck. He is lucky, he doesn’t need to remind himself of this fact.

His gloved hands rest on your hips, feeling the sway between the two of you. How he always wished to have someone to think of like the men in older songs sang about. The kind of pining and love one could only feel from someone truly special; he knew it was you, every moment away from your presence only meant you were the first thing on his mind constantly. Meetings, missions, his mind would wander back to his love he would be able to see again.

His heart yearned for nights like these, when your chest was flush with his and you rested your head against his breastplate. You don’t mind the blood that is still caked to him, a contrast between the black and dark silver accents of his armor. An arm moves from draping over his shoulders to tracing lazily around the now deep crimson.

The song was near complete by the time his gloved hand traveled up to grasp your chin gently, to tilt your head up and meet the eyes of his mask. He wants to be complete for you, to give you everything he has even if he’s a broken mess. He wants to show you the scars that mar his skin and let you be privy to the pain he has gone through, to the dull ache on his burns and the milky white of his eye.

He wants to lift his mask and kiss you for the first time; to let you feel his rough lips against your own.

But his prayers aren’t answered, wishes aren’t granted as a sudden knock on your door drives you two apart. It’s late, far too much so for uninvited visitors, you’re tentative as you step over to the door and peer through the hole. A sigh gracing your lips at the sight of your neighbor on the other side.

“Hey, could you turn the music down? It’s late and I have work in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” Grumbles are the only thing you’re met with as they walk off, back down the hall to their own door. Soft crackles sound through the room now, the song over and leaving you with nothing but the end of the vinyl.

The living room is empty when you return, he’s gone, having taken his leave sometime during your two second conversation with the neighbor down the hall. It’s not a surprise, though it leaves you with an empty feeling in your chest. How close you had been to getting to see the man behind the mask, to feeling his lips against yours. You know he can’t stay, that he won’t jeopardize his job for you. Or, better yet, jeopardize you with his job, but the feeling still isn’t one you like.

The record player is turned off after a moment, leaving you back in the silence you had just left, but this time without him standing in front of you. Maybe he won’t ever show you his face, let you be privy to his life before his silence, but you hold the knowledge that the machine of the Seven will always flock to you like a lamb to its shepherd, walls up and all.

And for now; that is enough.

#black noir #black noir x reader #the boys #black noir x you #black noir the boys #x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort

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messylustt · 1 year

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v.07.10.23 day four: thigh riding ( nsfw )

spider noir brainrot

noir’s always busy. but your needy pussy is just far too wet to leave him alone. he’s a polite man, always such a gentleman to you. but as you crawl across the bed and over to where he’s seated at his desk, and the way that you eye him, tracing your finger along his collarbone, his shirt loose and lazy, his ‘respectfulness’ falters. he hates tending to you when his focus isn’t entirely on you. even if you’ve stated that you don’t mind, he wants to take care of you in a way that puts you first. it’s sweet, but right now the concept ‘sweet’ isn’t exactly radiating off him. “keep working, it’s fine.” you murmur as you straddle his thigh. “i can just use this.” then you begin to grind your hips, slowly at first. his hands fly towards your waist and you think that he’s going to stop you, but he instead begins to move you, making your pussy lips drag against his pants. he doesn’t want you doing the work. if you’re gonna use his leg to get off then he’s in the right to control your movements. your whimpers stutter. “i can just do it — ” you try, knowing he’s busy, but in response he pushes his leg higher up into your cunt making your words cut short. “you’re gonna make my pants all wet...” noir murmurs, but there’s no protest in his actions. making you rut against him quicker, his lips parting as he feels your heat rub along his thigh. though he’s a respectable man, sometimes all he wants is to see you pathetically getting off on him.

taglist below

@spiderst4rgirl @buttertubz @nayylas @cultrise @miguelsslut @eddieslooneymoonie @duckyduck25 @chysalxsm @lusttszn @lemonlotem @siidmm @Horror_sl*t @urmotherlvr @carlixa @jackdawwaquarium @vampsired @kaitoliu @diyag @shadowarchon @zabac69 @alucards-no-life-queen @certified-stargirl @andrealuvsmiguel @freehentai @vic0dyn @raexy @awniie @slut4drudy @ramiiroll @briefrebelfanalmond @kuujo @LittleAbyssGirl @oyaapeach @matchayuii @zaunsin @pinkghost222 @kodzuminx @iite-cool @urabotlmao @missbeverlyhills @winteringfalls @rostarblog @chocolatechiipsworld @mcinava @br0ken--ruby @burningpeace @myrcella-maximoff @shadowarchon @coffie-witch @die4niyahhh @oilfics @hawunts @i-do-be-vibinn @2099rk @notasadgirlipromise @Littlemissdilfloverr @3xclusive_.y0ni @killvaswrld @lynnxnnyl @hk11 @oharasmommymilkers00 @ttlynotme @mindscape123

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amostimprobabledream · 3 months

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Subterranean Affairs (Homelander x Reader)

I love how seeing Homelander in normal clothes sent everyone completely unhinged lol. Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57191485 Applause rained down like thunder, spotlights and the dozens upon dozens of cameras flashing brightly. Almost as brightly as the sharp-toothed, megawatt smile on the Homelander's face.

"We cannot overstate enough the heroic efforts of the Seven in their latest daring rescue!" a reporter was saying into her microphone, a safe distance from the disaster zone, the victims being escorted off the bus and bundled up into shock blankets in the background, but the camera focused on the heroes standing front and center. "All hostages are safe and accounted for, and we're told repairs for the damage of the bridge will be minimal, so hopefully it should open within a few short weeks!"

A few cheers erupted, whistles and people clamouring, stamping their feet. Homelander, A-Train and the Deep were lapping up the attention, the latter smiling and waving. Behind them, Queen Maeve stood with her usual disinterested, sulky expression and Black Noir was, unsurprisingly, silent. Starlight looked like their little sister who had unwittingly tagged along, her costume spotlessly white, not a hint of grime or debris touching her. The reporter approached The Seven, making a beeline for their leader.

"Homelander, reports state that this terrible event was the handiwork of the self-professed vigilante, the Raven. Is this true?"

Homelander’s eyes found the camera immediately.

"That's right, Carol - a video of the hostages was sent to us at Vought, as well as the companies the Raven was demanding the ransom from. We knew we had to act and do it fast. Innocent lives were at stake!”

"Of course, no doubt your fast thinking saved so many lives!" Carol gushed.

"Yeah, uh, nobody's getting blown up today, guys!" The Deep put in helpfully, giving a thumbs-up and a wink to the camera, which perhaps wasn't quite the right tone to be striking, but nobody thought to say that over the shrieking of the crowd.

Starlight pursed her lips, squinting against the glare of the flashing cameras. She still wasn't used to being stared down by so many of them at once.

"Vought has also pledged one million dollars towards the reconstruction of the bridge!" A-Train said, gesturing behind him with an expansive sweep of his arm. "Can't stop people from just trying to live their lives! That's not how we do it in America!"

"And what about the Raven? Are you guys any closer to catching this guy?" another reporter spoke up.

Homelander gave a languorous blink and a small silence settled – even the clicks of the cameras seemed muted.

“Arrests have been made of suspects in this terrible attack. Remember that this…criminal has evaded the very best law enforcement in the whole country. This isn’t just a normal lawbreaker, folks. This…is a villain.”

The word rippled, spreading on impact, and gasps surged forth from the gathered crowd, and Homelander raised a finger, wagging it as he paced back and forth, cape billowing importantly behind him.

“But know this! It doesn’t matter what threats he makes, or who he tries to use against us. I- we, The Seven, will always stand against criminals like him, and always fight back! America will stand strong!”

Applause exploded forth, cheering and screaming the names of The Seven, and the camera went wild, flashing like little explosions. Homelander’s smile widened beneath the endless clicking of shutters, basking in the worshipful gratitude of the adoring public, their need for him to save them washing over him in a wave.

“Stand strong! Stand strong! Stand strong!”

You fuckin’ cocksuckers.

Your room was lit up by a multitude of screens, your eyes flicking from each of them, missing nothing.

Images of all different news stations made a cacophony of murmuring voices in the living room, though you keep the volume low so you could listen to the music drifting through your laptop speakers. In your hand you held a milkshake, sucking on the straw and enjoying the creamy, tasteful thickness of it. You’d never been much of a milkshake fan before, but in the past couple of months you’d been…converted.

A knock sounds at the door, one you’d been waiting for all evening, and your heart jumps in your chest.

“Come in,” you call, setting down your drink and swivelling in your chair so you faced the door.

You’d left it unlocked because you didn’t want it broken again, and the door swung open silently to reveal a man standing there in plain clothing, baseball cap jammed low over his face. Even though he looked smaller without his usual suit, more slender, the look in his eyes stayed the same. He leans his head back to stare at you imperiously, his gaze commanding attention.

Homelander cocks his head.

“You’re still working?” he asks as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. It seems odd not to see a cape trailing behind Homelander, like a bird without its plumage.

“Crime never sleeps.” You reply in a deadpan, before smiling. “That was quite the motivational speech back there. ‘America will stay strong’, jesus – how long have you been dying to use that tagline?”

“Not every day I get to face my nemesis on national TV, right?” he replies in a drawl, stepping closer until he’s standing between your parted legs. “A bus full of kids? Seriously?”

You roll your eyes at his tone.

“People get so sentimental when children are involved.” You say mockingly, smirking. “It makes them pay attention.”

Homelander’s lip curls at your cavalier reply, amused, his eyes going half-lidded as he looks down at you, his hands settling on your thighs.

“And what if I didn’t get to that bus on time, hmm? We’d’ve looked like a bunch of fuckin’ amateurs.” He says, in a mock-scolding voice.

“No, you’d look like martyrs.” You correct him, watching his hands slide further up your legs. “People would have felt so sorry for you and how terrible you must feel. And I’d look like an even bigger threat, everyone feels just a little more unsafe in a world where little Billy or little Sally can go kaboom just like that, and everyone turns to you, desperate for you to swoop in and save them and knowing there’s a chance that even you might not be able to. That this time, they could get very unlucky. You get to swear great justice and vengeance and I get to make the corporations look like the sociopathic conglomerates they are for not paying the ransom, and next time I can demand even more money because they know the Raven doesn’t bluff. Everybody wins.”

“But we did save them,” he points out, tongue perched on the very edge of his bottom teeth, almost sticking it out but not quite, as he leers down at you with his eyelids lowered. “Everyone loves me even more now. What do you get outta this?”

“I still got some of the money, remember? The companies weren’t willing for me to expose them on national television if it meant coughing up a little. And more importantly, notoriety. The next one, when I win, will make everyone more afraid. More desperate to pay for safety. Fear is very profitable, you know.”

“And how d’you know you’ll get your way next time, hmm?” he says with a smirk, a hint of a purr entering his voice.

“Because that’s how it works. You don’t want your nemesis to be a total fucking loser, right?” you remind him in a singsong. “The bigger of a threat I am, the more people love you when you foil my dastardly deeds. Ergo, next time, you let me win.”

You rise to your feet and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, punctuating it with a little teasing lick, and he chuffs like a big cat.

“I should be punishing you, you know…” he croons, hiking you up like you weigh nothing – to him, you don’t – and plonking your ass down on the desk, nearly sitting on a keyboard so you’re at a more accessible height for him to play with you. “Hmm? Drag you down to the police station or to Vought Tower and let them deal with you. Or maybe I should get a little rough…”

He's kissing your neck as he says this, his words colliding together in eagerness, breath hot on your skin. One hand was clamped at your thigh, kneading the flesh beneath his bare palm. You hiss and arch your back as his teeth clamps on the skin of your neck, putting those fangs of his to good use.

“Should teach a bad girl like you a lesson.” He murmurs in a low voice, dripping with promise, right in your ear. “Maybe I should put you over my knee and spank you, hm? Make that pretty ass raw until you say you’re sorry…”

Something in you clenched at the very suggestion, heat crawling over your body. His hand snakes up your dress, brushing against the flimsy material of your panties, which are already slightly damp from anticipation of his arrival. Homelander traces the outline of your cunt through the fabric, a lazy smile spreading slow and smooth as honey across his face.

“Or, I could fuck you how you like it, nice and deep, and just when you’re about to come, I’ll tie you up and leave you here. All fuckin’ desperate to finish yourself off…”

He's not bluffing, and you know it. The thought of how easily he can overpower you is one hell of an aphrodisiac – his plain clothes may hide who he is, but you know what strength lies beneath his little disguise, and knowing there’s someone who isn’t scared of you, the Raven and all your clever machinations, is thrilling.

“Mm, fuck…” you mutter, reaching up and batting his silly baseball cap off, tousling his hair between your fingers and taking pleasure out of rumpling it from its slicked-back state. “You wanna play the hero, huh? Vanquish the evil villain?”

Homelander growls, tugging your panties down like they've personally offended him. His hand skims up your thighs, and you twitch as his finger tease at your crotch.

“You’re pushing your luck, missy.” He mutters darkly.

"Mmph...but I'm so good for you." You remind him, panting as he brushes your clit, massaging it with an infuriatingly feather-light touch, refusing to give you the friction you want.

"You'd - hmm- be so bored without me..."

Homelander hums in acknowledgement. You’re his dirty little secret, one he holds close to his chest. He’s the only one who knows who you really are – everyone else thinks the Raven is a man, all thanks to a simple voice-changing modulator and never showing yourself on camera – the few times you’ve had to address anyone directly, you go Black Noir and wear a mask. When Homelander tracked you down after you’d taunted Vought one too many times for his liking, he was surprised to find a young woman masterminding the attacks, and even more surprised that you had a proposal.

“I can boost your precious ratings better than anyone can. You’re bored, aren’t you? Catching me has been one of the most thrilling things to happen to you in a long time. I’m right, aren’t I? Doesn’t every hero need a villain?”

You hadn’t been wrong.

So, fast forward to the present, whenever you set up one of your plans, usually involving extorting a ludicrous amount of money from people who need a lot of nudging to give it up, you make sure to give Homelander a head’s up. You don’t always tell him every single detail, you insist that it’s better if some of it is a surprise, so his reactions are authentic, so he can still experience the thrill of the chase, but he knows enough. He gets to swoop in as the world’s strongest man and save the day, and you get to antagonise some very dangerous people and walk away without a scratch on you. Homelander finds ways of giving you funds, should it be his turn to thwart your plans and you have requirements to be met. All secretly taken from Vought’s coffers, of course.

The best part is that Vought have no idea who the Raven is. No-one, not one of the Seven, or Ashley, or Stan Edgar or the shareholders, knows what your next move will be.

In exchange for this, you have intel on who in Vought is working on tracking you down, (apparently there’s a whole department dedicated to you now, which you find hilarious) and Homelander can easily get info on the police too if need be and your schemes get national – sometimes international, attention. In a way, you’ve become a bit of a celebrity, yourself. And you have your own personal hitman on speed dial. If you need something or someone out of your way, Homelander’s number is on your burner phone, and he has no issue with taking out the trash every now and then. And if he can’t do it himself for whatever reason, he can always point a finger and send Black Noir like his own personal phantom. The masked Supe never asks questions.

Perhaps, then, the other arrangements were simply inevitable. A natural occurrence, if you will. Having such dangerous, intimate knowledge of one another is a surprising shortcut to sexual attraction, of knowing the other person in a way nobody else does. And you’d be a dirty little liar if you said you weren’t curious about what fucking America’s golden boy would be like.

You’re firm about these little trysts, though. You haven’t gotten away with your shit for so long for nothing, and there’s a reason it took a man with flight and super senses to finally catch you. If anybody saw The Homelander flying to where you live, seemingly for no apparent reason and roughly around the time either The Raven makes an appearance on TV or after “his” schemes are thwarted…well, then there might be questions, and you’re not willing to risk it.

Hence, the civvies. Plus, there’s something hot about an incognito Homelander, without the mantle of being the face of the Seven and symbol of America weighing him down. It’s illicit, forbidden, the man behind the curtain.

“You think I need you?” he sneers, pulling back to show his pointed fangs, but his affected disdain is unconvincing when he has his fingers buried deep in your pulsing cunt, and you can feel every ridge of his knuckles, his breath excited hot puffs on your neck.

“We’re good for each other,” you reply hoarsely, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, leaning up to bite his bottom lip and he growls in approval – he likes a little rough play. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t feel good…knowing something nobody else does…being the one in control the whole time and nobody is any the wiser?”

You know you’ve hit the nail on the head as he plunges his fingers as deep as they can go inside you and you throw your head back, keening out loud. The truth is that nothing beats that rush, setting off these earthquakes and watching everyone else scramble to gain their footing, people falling as predictably as dominos. Having the man who swoops in to save the day visit you in the cover of nightfall for a quick fuck afterwards is just the cherry on top of it all, and you know he’s riding some of the aftershocks of his own, knowing he has everyone eating out of the palm of his gloved hands.

“Oh, fuck…” you hiss as he curves his fingers inside you in a come-hither motion, sending shivering jolts through your body, and your body automatically tilts your hips forward for more friction, more motion, without you having to even think of it. “Homelander…like that…”

“Yeah? This what you want?” he asks, half amused and half horny, doing the motion again and watching as your eyes get a glazed look about them, the usual sharp, wary gleam giving way to a fog of pleasure. “Greedy little brat.”

He doesn’t stop, though – he loves the look on your face as you lose yourself to it, swallowed up in sheer, undiluted lust. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers, making him slide them in and out, teasingly.

With his free hand, Homelander rips open the front of your dress as if it were made of wrapping paper and you make an indignant noise – perhaps a little dramatic given it’s not like you don’t have the cash to buy fifty dresses if you want, but your annoyance dies a quick death when his free hand palms one of your breasts.

“Mm…you wore your slutty lingerie for me, huh?” he says, a grin like a highschooler looking at his first Playboy curving his mouth as he traces over the lace detailing that skims the cups of your bra. “Very nice.”

“And it wasn’t cheap,” you can’t resist saying, tilting your head back like you’re a duchess being showered in trinkets. “All bought and paid for with Vought’s dirty money.”

Homelander laughs at that, delighted, lowering his head to drag his tongue over the sensitive skin and you shiver, his mouth is hot in the cool of your room, and you wrap your legs around his hips. He’s hard, you can see the outline of his dick through his jeans, but you let the moment stretch between you, like pulling bubblegum between the teeth.

He's impatient, snapping the front clasp (he notes you chose an easy access bra with approval), watching the pretty material slide off you to expose your tits to him, and he latches on with just as much greed as he accused you of having.

“I can hear your little heartbeat, you know,” he remarks conversationally, glancing up at you from beneath unfairly lush eyelashes on a man. “Going like a fuckin’ jackrabbit’s. It’s cute how you act like you’re this cold, calculating bitch, but really…you’re just desperate to be fucked.”

You look down at him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, lust at how he’s playing with you and irritation that he’s calling you out at war with each other, and you can’t quite resist running your mouth.

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should hurry up and fuck me, then.” You throw the words down like a gauntlet.

His blue eyes snap to yours and for a split second, you think his pupils go from black to a sizzling red. It’s gone when you blink and Homelander’s hands wrap around your hips and he hoists you up, holding you, a full-grown adult, up off the ground like a ragdoll. With one hand – the one is busy freeing his cock from the confinements of his jeans, hissing under his breath. Relief skims over him when he pulls it out of his briefs, hot and throbbing in his hand.

“You asked for it, you fuckin’ brat.” He snarls.

You did, no denying that. You let out a groan when he sinks into you, letting you impale yourself on his cock, and he sighs, long and luxuriantly like he’s gotten into a hot bubblebath instead. Your hands tightly grip his shoulders and something about the fact you’re both mostly clothed really gets you going, the rushed, dirtiness of bouncing on his cock for a little while before he’s inevitably called away, before it’s time for him to go shine in the sunlight once again.

Homelander agrees with you - it's delicious, the heat of your snug, wet cunt engulfs him and he groans, nuzzling his face into your tits, which are conveniently right at face-level. You may have an excellent poker face, but your body is so responsive to even the slightest of touches, your nipples hard and flesh covered in goosebumps, either from the chill of the air conditioner or anticipation. Probably a potent mixture of both.

“Ah, fuck, yes…” you pant against him, clinging onto his jacket for dear life, nails embedding in the fabric. “Just like that…fuck me, ah…”

He doesn’t need telling twice – for someone who loathes being ordered around, Homelander is quick to take to instructions and he snarls as he picks up the pace, manhandling you with an ease that sends butterflies taking flight in your stomach. Your thighs clench, hooked around his waist as they are, the balls of your feet digging into his lower back, and you bury your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his fancy cologne and just a faint whiff of something metallic. His skin is so warm like he’s constantly running a fever and you press little kisses and bites to his neck – you may be a Supe but you’re not strong enough to break his skin, but he seems to appreciate the effort.

“You shoulda - ngh- fuckin’ seen Stan Edgar’s face – when you first showed the hostage video-“ Homelander says, gasping out the words as he fucked you, maneuvering your body up and down with a mere flex of his wrists – all you had to do was cling onto him for dear life. “Shit, I nearly flew right here to bend you over this desk just for that. Got everybody in Vought losing their fuckin’ minds…”

“Glad to know I’m living up to my reputation,” you say against his ear in a thick voice, like you’re trying to speak through a mouthful of treacle, mouth falling open in a silent cry as his cock thrust deeper into you, hitting somewhere deep inside that sent bolts of pleasure zipping up and down your body, and your thighs and cunt clenched around him in tandem. “Fuck-!”

“Yeah,” he growls back, purposefully upping the back to drive more of those needy gasps he loves so much from you, the sound of bodies smacking together loud and clear in his ears even when it’s muffled by your clothing. “Got everything under control, don’t you? Everyone dancing to your tune? All except me. I’m the only one who gets you, only one who knows…”

“Yes, yes, fuck…” you hiss – you’re going to come, you can feel it, if he just keeps going, just a little more…your nails are digging so hard into his shirt you’re sure you’re going to pierce it with them alone, but neither of you care, nothing matters except chasing that high. “Only you, only you, Homelander…”

It's exactly what you know he wants to hear, and he groans in a hoarse way that finishes you off – you can’t hold back the heady kick of exhilaration and pleasure, conjoined and making you throw back your head as you come, a moan rising up to the ceiling fan that’s still whirring away above you. Tingling, throbbing heat engulfed you as you came, slick coating your thighs and you’ve probably gotten some on his pants too. Homelander’s concerns were less on his dry-cleaning and on chasing his own orgasm, his teeth sinking into the spot that joined neck and shoulder, making you give a soft whine. Your thighs tremble with the effort of keeping them clamped around his hips.

“Atta girl…” he mutters against your neck, planting a sloppy kiss against it like a stamp of ownership. Your skin breaks out in fresh goosebumps where his lips touch you, his lips burning like a brand.

It takes you a moment to recover yourself, and Homelander sets you back down on the desk with all the care of placing down a priceless vase. You give a little sniff and wipe your face with the back of your wrist, pushing your hair back off your sweaty forehead.

Homelander, in a surprising moment of decorum, turns away to tuck himself back into his jeans, a smug little smile lingering on his lips, and you pull your bra back into place and fasten the clasp. There’s not much to be done about your ruined dress, but all you have to do is say the word and he’d buy you whatever you asked for as a replacement. Price tags aren’t a concept that high and mighty beings such as himself need concern himself with.

“Ugh. Got a press junket tomorrow morning.” He mutters, giving a bitchy eyeroll. “All this goddamn promoting the brand now roster’s changed. They want another Seven movie too.”

“Jesus, they really don’t believe in letting a franchise die, do they?” you scoff, grateful that you’ve never once been tempted into the glitz and glamour of being one of Vought’s Supes – the red tape and smiling would be unbearable. And all those selfies with fans. “They sure do keep you busy.”

He scoffs, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye, watching your lip curve in a smirk as he matches it with one of his own.

“Yeah, well.” He says, in a sarcastically breezy tone, a can-do Boy Scout voice. “Anything for our fans.”

You laugh and shake your head. Rather you than him.

“I’ll send a bomb scare to set and make everyone evacuate for a few days,” you say, fluffing your hair. “Give you a little me-time.”

He eyes you, like he’s trying to work out if you’re joking or not, but you simply give him an enigmatic smile – you know he likes the mystery, so you keep quiet on if you’re actually planning on following through. He shakes his head.

“I’ll see you next time then, my pretty little criminal.”

He leans over and tilts up your chin, one last kiss before he goes, and you give it to him, enjoying the feeling of his mouth pressed hungrily against yours. He pulls away with obvious reluctance, but you force yourself not to invite him to stay – you have to keep yourself somewhat professional, after all.

“Til then.” You reply, running your tongue across your bottom lip, and his blue eyes follow it.

By now, it’s dark enough that he can get away with flying more easily. You watch him step out onto your balcony and disappear, probably landing outside and walking a few feet before he takes off properly, in the spirit of making sure not to draw any unwanted attention.

You run a hand through your hair as you eye your desk – you should tidy up but you’re too wobbly on your legs now to think of doing any more work. Plus, you want to run yourself a nice, relaxing bath after a day of extortion and disturbing the peace.

You go to grab your milkshake and not with grudging amusement that Homelander swiped it just before he left. Asshole. He took your panties too, though you’re less surprised about that – quite a few pairs have gone missing thanks to him, even if he denied it last time you asked.

With a yawn, you stumble to bed, rather more wobbly on your legs than you were about an hour ago. You’ll be sore tomorrow morning, but it will be well worth it. You’ll lie low for a little while, let everybody get comfortable and let their guards down again, get swept up in whatever new media circus captures their attention. Your plans take time to coordinate and carry out, and you like to make sure it’s something unexpected each time. So, for now, everyone can wait until you’re ready to rock their safe little worlds again.

And with any luck, Homelander will return to rock yours.

#homelander x reader #The Boys (2019) x Reader #The Boys (2019)#Fanfiction #Smut #Hero x villain #Except it's more like villain x villain #Reader-Insert

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imagine-horizons · 6 months

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welcome home (one shot)

dracule mihawk x f!reader (established relationship) warnings: suggestive themes, fluff, minors DNI,

Summary: you and Mihawk share a quiet intimate moment in his study after you return to the castle on kuraigana island

—————

Mihawk gave a deep sigh as he stared out the window of his study. The castle was unusually quiet with Zoro out training, and Perona following, and watching him closely - and despite having a moment to be alone with his thoughts, he found the silence to be a bit of a stranger. "It's odd isn't it? For the castle to be this quiet?" He turned to see you standing there, head tilted to the side with a gentle smile on your lips.

"Y/N, when did you get back?" The warlord asked as you drew closer to him.

"Just now," you replied. "I could hear Perona yelling at Zoro - he is really bad with directions isn't he?" An even deeper sigh escaped from the swordsman's lips as he closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated how he was starting to grow fond of the two newcomers, and almost feel a twinge of concern. At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted when you hugged his arm , let your hand slip into his. "Did you miss me?"

"You weren't gone very long," Mihawk pointed out. You had only been gone for a few days, compared to some of his own journeys that took more than a month. You let out a pout as your warm brown eyes met his.

"Meanie," you accused but with a light teasing tone in your voice. Mihawk turned and gathered you in his arms, letting them encircle your waist. You gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes, as you were getting dizzy from his presence, your hands clinging to his biceps. You could smell the lingering fragrance of the Pinot Noir he drank earlier as his breath tickled your cheek. You let out a soft sigh as he traced your jaw with his lips to the tip of your ear. The richness of his deep baritone voice sent chills down your spine.

“You, my love are always testing my resolve and control - so who is the mean one now?” He murmured, and he heard your breath hitch as his teeth grazed against your earlobe. “I can think of a few things that missed you.”

“And what’s that?” You asked curiously. You felt him slowly back you against his desk, and he had you caged as he placed both arms on either side of you.

“I think you should guess.”

“That’s cheating milord,” you retorted, as he let his lips trail down the side of your neck. “Y-you’re…” you couldn’t think of another word as you felt your cheeks flush at this new sensation.

“I’m what?” Mihawk asked in amusement. Before you could think of another word, and before the warlord could travel further down past your collarbone, there was a loud bang, pulling the two of you apart.

“MIHAWK - ZOROS WOUNDS REOPENED AGAIN AND HES TOO STUBBORN TO STOP.”

“I AM NOT IT’S FINE! JUST PATCH ME UP AND I CAN KEEP GOING!”

“YOURE BLEEDING ALL OVER THE CASTLE FLOORS! WHO’S GONNA CLEAN IT UP?!”

Mihawk let out a groan and you could swear the usually calm and collective swordsman had a vein twitch on the side of his temple.

“Needed,” you giggled. “I was gonna say cheating, but I think you’re needed.” Mihawk stood up and gently pulled you into a standing position, his one arm encircled your waist.

“Those two…” he grumbled, but before he could say anything, he felt your soft lips press a chaste kiss against his cheek.

“I’ll take care of Zoro,” you murmured. “You get the mop, and clean up his blood trail.”

“How romantic,” Mihawk said with a deadpan expression.

“Well that’s why you’re the genius of more romantic events for the two of us,” you laughed. “Let’s go help them, before Zoro bleeds all over the floor and Perona has a mental breakdown.” Just before you could pull away, Mihawk kissed you on the forehead and then walked out of the study without another word. He was a man shrouded in mystery, and there weren’t many words spoken by him. But you knew he missed you, and cared for you more than he could use words to express it.

#mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #dracule mihawk #one piece fanfiction

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rosekasa · 8 months

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(slumber) partycrasher

He’s finishing up on Rue de la République when he sees Ladybug on Alya’s balcony. His footsteps slow to a halt on the roof tile. It’s Sunday today, isn't it? Ladybug doesn't patrol on Sundays. Did something happen at Alya’s? He stops, reroutes, and heads over.

He gets closer, the lights bringing them further into focus. The two girls stand close together, huddled over Alya’s phone, murmuring quietly.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says as he lands.

The shriek that exits Ladybug echoes through the street.

He stands there, rigid, all the punny greetings he had planned effectively smacked out of his mouth. He has never heard Ladybug make that sound before. He didn't even know Ladybug was capable of making that sound. Even Alya seems taken aback, staring at her wide-eyed.

After five heavy seconds of silence, Ladybug comes back to life. “Um—!” she says. “Wow! Chat Noir! Hi! I wasn't expecting you to crash our slumber party!”

He blinks, still reeling from the scream. “...Slumber party?”

This time, it's Alya’s stupor that lifts. “Um— yep! Ladybug comes over every Sunday and we have a sleepover. Y’know, Ladyblogger-Ladybug bonding time.”

Huh. So that’s why she doesn't patrol on Sundays? He thought it was a civilian thing.

…She could've told him.

“Oh. Well.” He hopes his voice doesn't sound strained. “Don’t let me intrude.” He gives them both a smile, then leaps back onto the rooftops.

Neither of them say goodbye.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

He doesn't want to be petty, but why would Ladybug not tell him about the sleepovers? They’d agreed to keep superhero things completely transparent between each other. So is this not a superhero thing, then? Is Ladybug hanging out in costume with Alya Césaire more personal than hanging out with Chat Noir?

He huffs, eyes snapping over to the light on Alya’s balcony. He has a right to bring this up, surely. He's her partner.

Ladybug is alone, this time, but the glass door is open. She has a blanket over her shoulders, a fox-printed mug in her hand, the light of Alya’s phone illuminating her face, eyes glued to the screen.

Remembering her reaction from the last time, he steps onto the balcony a little gentler from behind her. “Hey—”

“They're making out on a fire escape.”

He chokes on his spit, grappling for purchase at the balcony door. “I— I’m sorry?”

Ladybug whips around, the blanket flying onto the floor. At least she doesn't scream again. But the look in her eye is somehow even more concerning.

Behind him, a toilet flushes, and padded footsteps draw near. “Did you get to the part where he books a hotel—” She cuts herself off with a gasp. “...Chat Noir. Hi.”

The three of them stand together silently, in their awkward vertical line, for what feels like a full minute.

This was such a stupid idea. What’s wrong with him, accosting his partner on her days off? It’s not his business how she spends that, nor who she spends it with. Unlike him, she’s not wasting all her time thinking about their partnership. Maybe he just needs to get a life.

“Sorry for crashing— again,” he quickly says. He takes a couple of steps back to the railing, turning to face both of them. “I— uh, thought there was an akuma down the road and wanted to tell you but, uh, looks like it's just a tree.” He laughs nervously, grabbing around for his baton. “I’ll be off, then.”

“Wait— are you sure—” Ladybug starts.

There’s sympathy in her eyes. His breath hitches.

“Yes!” he says. As he steps away from her again, his baton slips from his hand. “Sorry, I’ll just text next time.”

Alya pipes up from behind him. “Chat, you’re always welcome to stay—”

“No, seriously, I, like, am allergic to sleepovers. I break out into hives.”

Ladybug furrows her brow. “I don't think that's true.”

“My medical history is very complicated.” Finally retrieving his baton, he opens it and turns to the skyline. “Well, bye!”

Ladybug makes a small, aborted sound of protest. But then as she reaches to stop him, her grip on Alya’s phone slips.

She screams. Alya screams. Chat Noir wonders whether this is what they're practicing together every Sunday.

Still balanced on his baton, he grabs the phone midair, holding it up over the safety of the balcony.

Automatically, his eyes fall on the screen.

Ladybug moans as Chat Noir kisses down her neck. He lifts her onto the fire escape, pulling her legs around him, lifting his head to press a hot, wet, kiss to her—

Alya snatches the phone from his hand. “Thanks.”

Ladybug’s face is crimson, hands tight around her mug.

Chat Noir looks from Ladybug, to Alya, to the phone. Her screen is still on. He looks away before he catches any more words.

He clears his throat. “W-Well, I should, uh, get off, then. I mean—!” He holds up his hands. “Be off! This balcony! And back home! Um— you should read— I mean, um, use your phone indoors just in case. Bye!”

He never does get around to asking about their slumber parties.

#im sorry #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ml fic #♡alizeh writes♡

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fred-leforgeur-baudelaire · 4 months

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“By the way she wets her lips and moves her hips, i know when she's hungry for me and my kisses.„

— Fred Leforgeur-Baudelaire | Les Murmures De Mon Esprit | The Whispers Of My Mind

Photo source : Noir : ArT

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overworkedunderwhelmed · 2 years

Conversation

After the (Catgirl) Battle...

Ladybug, cuddling up to her partner and murmuring: Hello, Kitty.

Chat Noir, pouting and cuddling even closer: Please never say those two words together again.

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml shitpost #catgirl games #we signal boost in this house

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greensagephase · 1 year

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part Eight

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: Your spider senses go off in the middle of the night, and you can't figure out why. Miguel goes out on a mission alone.

Word Count: 14,258 (I think I can safely say this will be the last time it ever gets to this. I thought about splitting this part but didn't want to leave you guys on a cliffhanger.)

Warnings: Some violence; mention of blood; explosions; angst; death

Music inspo while writing (in order):

"Sleepwalk" - Santo & Johnny (instrumental)

"Les" - Childish Gambino (instrumental)

"Adrian" - Bill Conti (instrumental) (I watched some of the "Rocky" movies and thought this song was so beautiful and tender)

"Amor Eterno" (instrumental) (iykyk, and I'm sorry if you do)

***Beautiful fanart for Nonviolent Communication has been created by lovely artists and you can find it all linked in my masterlist under fanart. Please go and show some love to the artists!! Their art is BEAUTIFUL!! ❤️***

Part Eight

“The tension in the room right now is palpable,” Pav mutters as you and him stand side by side in Peter and Mary Jane’s living room.

“My bet is on Miles,” you reply quietly.

“Hm, I think Noir has this one,” he replies as the two of you look over at Miles and Noir.

“Miles has this in the bag,” Hobie murmurs behind you and Pav, making both of you turn around to look at him.

The three of you watch behind a couch as Miles and Noir, who are sitting on the floor around the living room’s console table, eye each other as they play UNO. The group started out with them, Hobie, Gwen, Pav, and you while Peter, Mary Jane, Penny, Margo, and Peter Porker watched. You were unfortunately the third one out followed by Hobie, leaving Noir and Miles as the two final players.

The others are watching from the couch, trying to hold their giggles. It’s Friday night, which means you and the rest of the group came over for dinner at Peter and Mary Jane’s universe. It’s a weekly dinner and one you’ve learned to love. It gives you something to look forward to on the weekend because it means you and your friends can relax and engage outside of work.

Peter and Mary Jane cook but the rest of you bring something over, which means that there’s usually a large dinner. Dinner always takes about an hour or so since you all catch up on what’s happening in your lives, which means that each week you and the other adults get to hear the younger people talk about school and some new drama. Of course, there’s also some talk about missions and anomalies considering most of you are spider-people. Then, after helping Peter and Mary Jane clean up, you all gather in the living room to play games.

Ten minutes later, Miles wins the game and Noir complains about the cards’ colors. After a good laugh, you all have a slice of cake, which you baked yourself, before everyone starts heading out. You say your goodbyes and thank Peter and Mary Jane for dinner before you head back to your universe. You change into your pajamas almost immediately, but you don’t head to bed just yet.

Instead, you grab a book from your bookshelf and take a seat on your couch. It’s ten p.m. on a rainy Friday night. You look around your apartment as you snuggle onto the couch with a blanket thrown over your legs. You open the book but you look up, your eyes taking in your small apartment.

It's officially four years since Peter’s death. His death anniversary was a couple of days ago and of course, there were some tears but for the most part, you handled it well. You visited him and spent some time at the cemetery. You went through some photo albums, taking a walk down memory lane.

Four years.

Where did the time go? You sigh as you look around your apartment. Time has gone by, but it doesn’t seem like it did in your apartment. It still looks the same as it did back when Peter was alive. It’s a personal choice. You wanted to keep everything the same. So, you have the same wall decorations the two of you hung together. The furniture is unchanged and it all remains in the original places you and Peter chose back in the day.

As you hear the soft pit pat of rain on your windows, you feel the urge to change some things around. Or maybe add new things.

You nod to yourself, thinking of what you’d like to do but decide to leave that for another day. It’s already a good sign you’re thinking of redecorating a little bit. You turn back to the book and begin to read, hoping that the reading and calm rain will lure you to sleep, which won’t be hard as you’re already feeling exhausted from the missions you were a part of today plus the patrolling of your city.

Soon enough, you notice your eyes begin to skip lines and you’re having to find your place multiple times. You decide to call it a night when you see it’s midnight. You do your night routine before you slide into bed, drifting off without any trouble.

Miguel stares at one of his many monitors, standing on his platform. His eyes scan the information before him despite it being two in the morning. He scrolls a bit to see more information. It’s all the data that was collected the previous day on anomaly matter from multiple universes. Of course, Lyla reads the information and always lets him know when there’s something worth discussing but Miguel often prefers to go in and check himself. As he finishes reading the data from a specific section, he stretches his back to relieve some of the tension. He hears his back pop, and he sighs in relief before he returns to reading.

Miguel has been sleeping once a week at his penthouse for multiple weeks now but tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight, he’ll stay here in his empty lab like most nights. Even if he wanted to go home, he can’t. He feels restless. He notices the time on his monitors, of course. He finds himself wishing it was day already and he doesn’t know why. He sighs to himself, closing his eyes for a few seconds trying to regain his focus, so he can concentrate on the data, but he cannot. His fingers move on their own and soon, he’s looking at a video of himself and Gabriella, when he gifted her a soccer ball. He stares at the video fondly, remembering her happiness when she saw the gift. He closes it before he gets off his platform with another sigh and begins to walk out of his lab.

He exits his lab into one of the many hallways of HQ, deciding to take a walk to clear his mind. Miguel doesn’t really pay attention to where he’s going. He’s just walking. He does this sometimes when his brain needs a moment during the long nights. He walks the empty hallways and cafeteria, eyes scanning the city from behind the large windows. He cannot make much of it due to the rain falling against the glass, which has created a blurry effect. Still, Miguel can see the faint lights of flying cars and other buildings’ lights in the distance.

He walks and walks. It’s early Saturday morning and here he is, walking through an empty HQ. He eventually returns to his lab. His mind feels more at ease but there’s still something that gnaws at him. He resumes his work at his platform, scanning his monitors. Everything looks fine. He sighs again and begins to read the data, but that feeling is still there. It’s like Miguel knows that at any moment, Lyla will appear and tell him that something’s wrong.

He moves the screen closer, willing himself to concentrate. To ignore the feeling, but five minutes later, one of his screens flashes red and Lyla appears.

“Miguel – two anomalies have been detected. Earth-42. They just entered the universe.”

And there it is. Miguel’s mask immediately covers his face as he leaps off his platform.

“Two anomalies… Who are they? Are they in the system?” Miguel asks as he starts clicking on his gizmo, preparing to open a portal to travel.

“One of them is a Green Goblin version. The other one is not in our system. First time,” Lyla reports.

Miguel nods, wasting no time once the portal opens. He steps out onto a rooftop on Earth-42, the same one that was cleaned up by Miles and his variant from this Earth over a year ago when he ended up sent here by the Go Home Machine. As Miguel steps out onto a rooftop, he’s unable to stop himself from briefly scanning the city. What a difference. The city is well lit, calm, and there’s still a buzz of people despite the time and rain but Miguel quickly focuses on the task at hand, putting his thoughts behind.

He looks around the area, trying to catch sight of the anomalies. He spots the first one, an unknown anomaly running in circles on the street below. There’s no sight of the Green Goblin, however, so he decides to catch this strange anomaly first and then pursue the Green Goblin.

As he heads straight for the anomaly, Miguel’s eyes scan it, trying to get an idea of how dangerous it might be. The body is a white cybernetic one. The head, which is a male human head, is inside a container filled with liquid. Glass makes up the front portion of the container, making it possible for the anomaly to see and a few hoses run through the anomaly’s body, leading Miguel to make the educated guess it’s the way it sustains itself. He also notices that this anomaly only has one hand, while the other arm has a clamp at the end.

Just before Miguel lands on the ground, he prepares a trapper-keeper, ready to trap the anomaly to transport it to HQ. The anomaly, however, begins running away from him as soon as it spots him.

“Running already?” he mutters, as he starts chasing it. “Lyla, keep me updated on the Green Goblin, you know how they get with their little explosions.”

“The Green Goblin has moved further away,” Lyla answers, making Miguel groan. “Maybe you should call for backup.”

“No, I got this. Just keep me updated on the Goblin’s movements.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Lyla disappears, leaving Miguel to do his job. He runs before he leaps into the air, reaching an incredible height as he heads straight for the anomaly. The anomaly somehow senses his attack as it turns around and meets Miguel with its clamp, clawing at him to prevent any blows. The anomaly’s moves don’t deter Miguel though as he takes hold of the clamp before he pushes the man to the ground.

The anomaly uses his one hand to land a punch on Miguel’s thigh before he swipes one of his long cybernetic legs around Miguel’s lower body, knocking him to the ground. The anomaly runs off to a building, hoisting himself up by perforating the walls with the clamp.

Miguel quickly gets up, chasing after it. He shoots his web, wrapping it around the anomaly’s body and pulling but the anomaly puts up a good fight and ends up sniping the web with the clamp once it reaches the rooftop. Miguel spends ten minutes doing this: almost trapping the anomaly before it gets away.

“The Green Goblin is moving further away but there is no trouble detected. It’s like – it’s just waiting,” Lyla reports, sounding confused with the behavior of the Green Goblin.

“Waiting for what?” Miguel asks, in frustration as the anomaly keeps leaping off buildings.

“I don’t know.”

Miguel scowls, done with this already. In a rage of frustration, he shoots his webs and catches the anomaly in midair before pulling it towards him. Miguel is quick to jump, meeting the anomaly halfway before he delivers a blow to the head. It sends the anomaly crashing on a rooftop with a loud thud.

“You little-” the man says as he starts standing up, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to finish his sentence as Miguel lands on the rooftop and captures it with the trapper-keeper.

“Finally,” Miguel mutters, as he walks over to inspect it but before he even reaches it, he receives a heavy blow to his head, caught by surprise. “Green Goblin,” Miguel says angrily as he turns around.

“Hello, Spider-Man,” the Green Goblin greets him as he hovers in the air with his glider. “You look very different from my own Spider-Man.”

“That’s because you’re not in your universe,” Miguel answers annoyed as he lunges himself at the Goblin.

He knocks the Goblin off the glider, leading to the two of them landing on the rooftop before they begin hand to hand combat. The two men land blows on each other as the captured anomaly tries to break out of the trapper-keeper to no avail. Miguel notices this and it’s at this moment of distraction that the Goblin seizes his opportunity. He pulls out the Goblin trident and aims at Miguel’s hand, hitting his gizmo in the process.

Miguel immediately turns to the Goblin, retrieving his hand. He takes a quick glance at the gizmo before scowling at the Goblin, who’s about to take another swing at Miguel. Miguel blocks it this time and throws a punch at him, sending him flying. The Goblin lands on the floor, quickly getting up on his feet and like every other Green Goblin in the multiverse, the cunning man pauses for a second, tilting his head as he stares at Miguel with interest. His eyes flicker to the strange device on this Spider-Man’s wrist. He grins behind his green mask before he dashes at Miguel, trident in hand.

Miguel and the Green Goblin continue to fight. Miguel successfully dodges the trident several times, but the Green Goblin only seems to be fueled by this. He swipes at Miguel with the trident, finally slicing his skin under the suit. Miguel winces, pressing his hand to his body briefly, a moment the Green Goblin takes to hit the gizmo again.

“I’ve had enough of you,” Miguel mumbles, as his talons extend.

“That’s a new one,” the Green Goblin comments, referring to the talons, before he jumps off the rooftop.

And of course, Miguel O’Hara never gives up, so he runs after the Green Goblin under the pouring rain. He watches as the anomaly lands on its glider before he flies off, laughing at Miguel. With a scowl, Miguel shoots his web and starts following him, catching up with the anomaly in no time.

“Catch, Spider-Man!” the Green Goblin says pulling out one of its many grenades before he throws it at a building.

Miguel charges towards it, successfully stopping it from detonating but what he doesn’t sense is the Green Goblin coming from behind with his trident. He hits Miguel’s gizmo again with a strength that manages to crack the screen. He swipes at Miguel once more, slicing his skin almost in the same place as earlier before he flies off. Miguel shoots his web to keep himself from falling to the ground.

“Mierda!” Miguel yells as he swings, clutching the same area that was sliced.

He looks down at his gizmo, noticing the crack on it. It should continue working, Miguel thinks to himself, knowing that he and Lyla spent a lot of time making sure the device would be durable. It would take a lot to break it.

And it becomes the Green Goblin’s mission to do so. As Miguel and the anomaly continue their fight through the city, the Green Goblin aims hit after hit on the device, cunningly planning blows as he realizes the Spider-Man before him doesn’t sense his moves like the superhero from his own universe.

“Don’t let him hit the gizmo, Miguel!” Lyla warns, as the Green Goblin makes another swing.

And so, after what feels like an hour of fighting, the green mask man succeeds.

“Migu-” Lyla starts but doesn’t finish.

The gizmo’s screen shatters, and Miguel immediately knows it when he sees the colors of the device fade and Lyla’s holograph disappearing, making Miguel cuss under his breath as he realizes what this means. He needs to catch the Green Goblin soon, before he starts glitching.

The Green Goblin, however, has other plans as he flies off towards a skyscraper. He immediately pulls out more of his grenades, throwing them at the building. Miguel rushes and jumps into the air to try and stop them from detonating and as he works on this, the Green Goblin flies to him, quickly stabbing him with his trident in the stomach. He laughs at Miguel as he twists the trident to add more pain before flying off just as one of the remaining grenades goes off, blowing up a part of the skyscraper. Miguel, who is falling in midair due to the injury, covers his face as debris bursts around him. He feels some of it, glass from the windows, dig into his body causing him to groan in pain.

The adrenaline of it all still allows him to shoot his webs, preventing himself from falling. Except he glitches. For the first time in his life, Miguel experiences firsthand what it feels like to be an anomaly. He feels the shock of it in his body as he’s falling again since his web gave out in the process of glitching. The glitching stops and he tries again, catching himself on time. He lifts himself up onto a rooftop to collect himself, but the pain is there. He looks around quickly, there’s no sight of the Green Goblin. Miguel breathes heavily, the action making pain course through his body. He looks up at the city as he feels blood gush under his suit, where the trident puncture his body.

“Mierda,” Miguel mumbles out of breath, realizing what his situation means. No one knows he’s here. It’s the middle of the night and he’s injured, unable to travel back to his universe because his gizmo is broken. The realization dawns on him.

This might be it.

As the realization hits him, Miguel looks around the city. The rain is going strong, and he can hear sirens in the distance. He must move somewhere else. The tallest building catches his eye right away. He makes one last swing, forcing himself to climb the building despite the pain but thinking that if this is it, he wants to have a nice view. He thankfully doesn’t glitch on his way up, allowing him to make it to the rooftop. He collapses against a wall, next to the building’s door that leads to the rooftop. Miguel stares out into the city as he lays on the ground, clutching his stomach. The adrenaline is wearing off, and he knows it because his body feels weaker now. He begins to feel the pain more as it runs through his body. He can feel blood under his suit, gushing out slowly and his breathing feels more labored now.

Miguel looks at his gizmo again, as if hoping that the device will magically function, but he knows better. There’s no way to return to his universe. He sighs, the action taking more effort than it should as he lets his mask off, wanting his face to feel the rain.

What a way to die. In another universe that isn’t his home. Alone on a rooftop as rain cascades down on him. His hair is damp and it’s sticking to his forehead, but Miguel makes no attempt to fix it. His face – no – his entire body feels cold, which is a strange feeling for Miguel. His body heat has always prevented him from being cold but his body – the one he has pushed to its limits for years now – fails him now.

Miguel tries to ignore it. He tries to focus on the city and the skyscrapers. It’s a lovely sight and he can’t help but remember the day he was here with you many months ago when he assigned you to work with him for the first time. It was daytime and the sight was wonderful. He can’t help but think that you would love the sight even more at night.

As he stares out into the city, he can’t help but also think how ironic this is. Miguel is about to die on Earth-42. The very same universe linked to the whole mess with Miles. It seems so far away now, Miguel thinks. When he was set on preventing Miles from saving his father so he wouldn’t break the canon. It was such a messy situation. He acted in a way he’ll never be able to take back even if everyone else moved on.

Now, here he is. On Earth-42, in a far different city than the one he met when he first ventured into the multiverse. It’s almost like a slap in the face. As if it was meant for him to think of this in his last moments. To see one of his biggest mistakes.

Miguel sighs again and this time, the action makes him hiss in pain. He can feel the blood. The pain is there but he tries to bear with it. He tries to distract himself.

As Miguel stares at the lights and the skyscrapers, his mind begins to wander off. He thinks of his family and flashes of memories run through his head. He sees his mom, when she was much younger and he was a kid, tending to his scraped knee. He sees her cooking in the kitchen of his childhood home.

He sees Gabriel sitting on his bedroom floor playing with his action figures, the same ones he begged Conchata for. He remembers the evenings they spent together, playing and pretending to be superheroes, not knowing what was in store for them in the future. He recalls the times when Gabriel was still so young and had nightmares. He found no comfort from his father, so he always went to Miguel’s bedroom. There, Miguel would comfort and assure him that it was just a bad dream and that it meant nothing. Despite Miguel’s comforting words, Gabriel always asked if he could stay with him, and Miguel could never say no.

“Gabrielito,” Miguel whispers, as he thinks of his little brother. His childhood face flashes in Miguel’s head before it morphs into Gabriel’s adult face. It was unfair, so unfair. Like any other older sibling, Miguel always thought he would be the first to pass away. He never imagined that it would be his little brother. He never imagined he would be taken away the way he was either. It was so unfair.

And as he thinks of Gabrielito, Miguel remembers a song his brother was very fond of. Surprisingly, the music is so clear in his mind as if it was only yesterday when the two of them drove to hang out with friends. As the older brother, Miguel was obviously the driver and Gabriel sat in the passenger seat, playing music. He remembers the first time Gabriel played it. He asked Miguel to be quiet and to just listen to it. And so, they had. They drove in silence as the instrumental song played, and it felt oddly nostalgic.

Miguel’s breathing slows down as the memories rush through his mind. They switch over to Gabriella. His time with her was short but they made so many memories. He can’t help but feel shame and pain in his chest as he thinks of her. Miguel has strayed away from his religion for some time now, but he hopes that if Heaven is real, that’ll he get to see her again. To hold her one more time. To apologize to her for lying. His wife comes to mind, too, of course, and so does the shame. He fell in love so quickly. His need to have a family blinded him so much, everything was rushed. Miguel can’t help but think now that he would’ve done things differently if he could. He wouldn’t have rushed into things. His wife had deserved better than him. Yet, he thinks fondly of the short time they had. He thinks warmly of the time he had a family even if it’s laced with shame and pain.

He lets his mind take him to those memories, back to those days that are long gone. As his mind is flooded with memories, he doesn’t notice the slowness of his breathing or heart. He doesn’t even feel the coldness of the wet ground or the cold raindrops that run down his beautiful face. He doesn’t notice that he’s staring at the city with half-lidded eyes now.

His mind goes through everything that happened in the last two years, including the fight and the multiverse hunt for Miles, which all lead to the last year. And of course, the last year leads to you. Your face flashes in Miguel’s mind. He thinks of the first time he met you when Jess introduced you. He thinks of the first weeks that you showed up with coffee to meetings before anyone else arrived and how he ignored the gesture. He remembers the day you volunteered to organize his lab thanks to Jess’s comment about the clutter. He sees different days combined into one memory of you chatting with Lyla as you worked, your voice and Lyla’s carrying to him, allowing him to hear bits and pieces.

He thinks of the day he showed up at your apartment and how he hated feeling something, which he now realizes was worry. Everything that has happened with you runs through his mind like a show. He sees your face, looking up at him on Dia de los Muertos, with that look of understanding in your eyes. He sees your arm reaching out to him when you wanted to comfort him. He sees you sitting on his kitchen island, eating the food he cooked on Christmas Eve. He remembers the ornaments and how yours was better than his. He recalls you showing up the next day. You brought cake and it was delicious. He remembers the two of you sat on the kitchen island again to eat, that time joined by Lyla, who asked questions as per usual.

He thinks of New Years Eve. You were invited to Miles’s universe, and you were sent to drop off food again. You stayed for a while once he mentioned that there was a huge firework show after the ball dropped, which meant that you spent the last and first minutes of the year with him in his penthouse.

Miguel’s heart continues to slow down as he thinks of the last year. You’re his friend. And he can’t help but feel disappointed that he’ll never be able to tell you face to face now. He wishes he could thank you. For everything. For the days you dealt with his coldness when he didn’t acknowledge you at all and left your coffee untouched. He briefly thinks about your excuse for taking him coffee. You lied much the same way he had lied about his reasoning for checking in on you that very first day. The day that led to your friendship. As Miguel’s eyelids further close, he thinks of how you’ll never know the truth about that day.

No one will.

Miguel’s heart beats slower and his body is cold as the rain continues to fall on him in the early morning. He listens to the soft pit pat as rain lands on the ground as the seconds tick by.

The same pit pat of rain can be heard on your apartment windows. The sound of it immediately fills your ears when you jolt awake from your sleep. A loud gasp escapes from your lips as you sit up on your bed. You sit, listening to the rain in the darkness of your bedroom as you try to catch your breath.

Your spider senses begin to go off, making you realize that’s what woke you up. You hurriedly jump out of bed and make a straight line to where you keep the two-way radio. You always keep the volume somewhat high during the night in case of emergencies but as you grab it and wait, there’s no feedback. Your eyes flicker to the clock on your nightstand. It’s three in the morning. You hurry to the windows of your apartment, pulling the curtains open to look out. There’s no sight of disturbance. If anything, the city looks at peace under the rain.

There’s not even the sound of traffic. All you can hear is the sound of rain but it’s there again. Your spider senses. Something is not right.

You hurry and get changed into your suit, not knowing what to do. Nothing looks wrong outside but you’re out of your apartment in less than three minutes. You swing from building to building as your eyes inspect the streets below. Your eyes search for anyone who might be in danger or anyone who might cause trouble.

Nothing.

You land on a rooftop to catch your breath. There’s a feeling of dread growing in the pit of your stomach. It’s one you’re all too familiar with as you’ve only ever felt this kind of dread once before. You try not to think of it but it’s impossible not to. The kind of dread that’s spreading through your body is the same kind you felt the day you lost Peter. You felt it spread like poison when you hurried to find Peter in the rubble. The feeling is branded into your mind and as you stand on the rooftop, overlooking the city still searching for trouble, you are overwhelmed by it once again.

You click on your gizmo and open a portal. If nothing is wrong in your universe, maybe there’s trouble somewhere else, you tell yourself. You quickly travel to all your friends’ universes within two minutes. Each time you arrive, you scan your friends’ cities but find nothing amiss. The cities are peaceful. You’re about to open another portal when your senses go off once again.

“What’s happening?” you mutter, as you look around one more time, seeing nothing.

You quickly head to HQ, finding yourself in the cafeteria. You walk through it quickly, feeling even more uneasy at the sight of a usually busy place being vacant of any life. Some of the lights are completely off, leaving pockets of darkness lingering around as you cross the cafeteria. You wonder where you’re even heading as you walk past the large windows of the Spider Society building, noticing the rain and the distant lights of flying cars.

Miguel’s city looks peaceful as well. Nothing seems wrong and yet that dread grows with each step you take, growing and clawing at your chest. Finally paying more attention, you realize you’ve made your way to Miguel’s lab. Perhaps there’s an anomaly threatening the entirety of the multiverse, you try to reason. Maybe that’s why you woke up.

You stand in front of Miguel’s lab and call for Lyla. Despite the uneasiness and dread running through your body, you still find it in yourself to ask for permission to enter his lab. You wait impatiently for the AI assistant to greet you but as the seconds tick by, there’s no sight of Lyla and your emotions intensify. It’s like a sign that something is definitely wrong. You call for Lyla one more time, saying her name louder and with more urgency as if that’ll help. Nothing. You burst into the lab, deciding to be sorry rather than safe.

“Miguel?” you call out, as you hurriedly enter his lab, hoping to find him on his platform surrounded by his many screens like always. “I’m sorry that I entered your lab like that, but Lyla is not responding, and my spider senses are goi-” you say, stopping when your eyes finally land on the platform.

Miguel’s screens are flashing red, not the usual marigold color you’ve grown accustomed to. And even worse yet, Miguel is nowhere in sight. You rush to the platform to get a closer look at the screens. They all read “DISCONNECTED.”

You stare in confusion but realize this must be the reason why Lyla didn’t respond earlier. You call out Miguel’s name again, but you’re met with a deafening silence. You take a deep breath in. Lyla is offline. The screens are flashing red. And Miguel is nowhere to be found.

You hurriedly try to reach Miguel through your gizmo, but your gizmo flashes a message, indicating that the recipient is disconnected. Your dread grows. There’s no way that Miguel would go offline like this. You’re halfway out of HQ when you reach out to Margo, the one person you know who can manage Miguel’s technology. As you head out into Nueva York, you pray for once that Margo is pulling one of her usual all-nighters. As you swing towards Miguel’s penthouse, Margo finally responds.

“Hey – what are you doing up this late? Something wrong?” Margo immediately asks.

You look down at her projected hologram from your gizmo. “Margo. Something is wrong with Miguel’s system. Lyla is offline and so is he. I think – I think something’s wrong. Can you please head to HQ and fix it? I’m on my way to Miguel’s penthouse to see if he’s alright,” you say, the words rushing out of your mouth, full of worry.

“Offline? That’s not – I don’t think Miguel would ever go offline,” Margo responds with a frown. “I’m going now to see what’s going on.”

“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. Bye,” you say as her hologram disappears.

You quickly find Miguel’s building and swing to it, sticking to the walls. You climb it, until you reach the penthouse and look inside. All the lights are off and there’s no sight of Miguel anywhere. You climb onto the rooftop, immediately clicking on your gizmo to open a portal, pulling the coordinates that were sent to you on Christmas Eve months ago. You hurriedly walk through it, stepping into Miguel’s living room once again.

Your eyes scan the place quickly before you rush up the stairs. With each step you take, you feel that dread grow tenfold. You pray that everything’s fine. That you’ll only have to apologize to Miguel for coming into his home the way you are now. You pray that he’ll be in bed sleeping for once and that this is all some misunderstanding. You open the first door you come across, eyes scanning the room only to realize it’s an office. You open the next door and find a large, luxurious bathroom. The next room is a bedroom, but you immediately realize it’s not the master bedroom, so you rush to the next door, pushing it open. Your heart sinks as you take in the sight.

Miguel’s bedroom is empty, and his bed looks undisturbed, which means he’s not home. You rush back to the first floor before you sprint to the living room, gizmo already opening a portal. You travel back to HQ, popping up at the cafeteria before you rush to the lab, wondering if Margo has been able to fix the problem. All the while, your dread grows. You feel your chest tighten as you think of Miguel and his whereabouts.

You burst into the lab where you find Margo, opening and closing screens with the flick of her wrist. She looks over her shoulder before she continues to work.

“He’s not at home,” you manage to breathe out despite the tightness in your chest.

“This is – not looking good,” Margo says, making you freeze.

“What do you mean it’s not looking good?” you ask, staring at her back as she continues to work. Her words make your anxiety grow.

“Miguel’s gizmo is completely offline, which means… it’s broken. Wherever he is, the gizmo is not working at all,” she says as she opens another screen.

You bring a hand to your face, gripping your lower face as you look around the lab. You feel your breathing speed up while at the same time finding it difficult to even do so.

“Have you been able to get Lyla back online?” you ask shakily.

“I’m working on it. Just one more step,” Margo says in a rush, noticing your demeanor slowly crumbling apart. “She’s back! Lyla must know what happened.”

It takes a few seconds before Lyla appears and you waste no time.

“Lyla, where is Miguel?” you ask, stepping closer to her.

“Y/N! Miguel is hurt and stranded on Earth-42! There were two anomalies detected and he went out to handle them but one of them broke his gizmo and managed to injure him,” Lyla hurriedly explains the situation.

“Shit,” you mutter, and begin to open a portal. “What were his last coordinates, Lyla?”

“I’ll send them to you, please hurry! I don’t know how badly he was injured, and he must be glitching by now.”

“Inform Jess of what’s happening and see if we can get other members to help. Miguel may have moved from the last coordinates you have. We may need to search the city for him. Margo. Please stay here just in case we need any help with the system. I’ll keep you updated,” you say before you rush into the portal.

Rain pours down on you as you step into Earth-42. You waste no time in looking around at the city and instead run to the ledge of the rooftop. You lunge yourself to the next building, eyes scanning, trying to find any sign of Miguel. Lyla’s hologram appears from your gizmo as you fly to the next building, giving you Miguel’s last known location.

You swing from building to building, moving fast just as you see another portal from your peripheral vision.

“Y/N. Any sign of Miguel?” Jess asks, joining the search.

“Not yet,” you reply as you continue to swing.

“Others will be joining the search. They’re on their way,” Jess replies.

And sure enough, as you swing between buildings, you see multiple portals opening from various rooftops. You feel relief to see others joining and hope that with more people involved, the search won’t last long.

“Alright, everyone. Lyla has sent Miguel’s last location. He’s injured and probably glitching as his gizmo stopped working.”

You hear your colleagues’ replies as you head to the location. You briefly wonder about the anomalies. Were they caught or did they get away? You reach Miguel’s last location and immediately search the rooftop for any signs, but Miguel is nowhere to be seen. You turn when you hear someone else join you. Hobie gives you a nod before he searches the other side of the rooftop.

“Nothing,” he says.

You dash to the other rooftop, looking down at the empty and dark alleyways, hoping to find something.

“This rooftop looks disturbed. Looks like there was some fighting,” Hobie communicates.

You locate him and join him. Others join you and Hobie in inspecting the scene, and sure enough there are signs of fighting but no sign of Miguel anywhere around. You look around, trying to get a feel of where the fighting moved to from this rooftop. You leap to the next rooftop, continuing your search.

“There is no sight of anomalies,” someone says, making you pause. If Miguel’s gizmo isn’t working and this isn’t his universe, surely that would mean that Lyla should be able to detect him as an anomaly in this universe.

You continue to search but call for Lyla, who immediately appears.

“Lyla. If Miguel’s gizmo isn’t working, can’t you detect him as an anomaly in this universe?” you ask her, hoping that she and everyone else including you forgot about this fact and that she’ll be able to pinpoint his exact location, but she shakes her head, giving you a look full of frustration.

“I’ve tried that. Unfortunately, the system failure from earlier has caused some malfunctions in the entire system. I cannot detect any anomalies at all right now. Margo and I are working on it. As soon as we get it running again, I’ll run the test and find him unless you guys find him first.”

You thank her and let her go, hoping that Miguel is found whichever way as long as it’s soon. You continue to move around, lunging from building to building like the other members in search of the founder and commander of the Spider Society. Your heart races as you search, and you pause for a second, trying to calm yourself down. Panicking like this will only interfere with successfully finding him. You pause and take a deep breath. Your spider senses went off earlier and now you’re sure it was for this reason. You try to calm down, hoping that this will allow your senses to come in. You will them to help you right now; to lead you in the right direction.

You don’t allow yourself to think too long about the fact that you sensed this. That you sensed Miguel was in trouble. You ignore it. That will be something to ponder about later, or maybe not, considering you’ll come up with no reasonable explanation. You hope no one questions how you knew either.

You look around the city as rain continues to pour down on you. Since you arrived, the rain has picked up and all you can think about is Miguel on some rooftop, hurt and glitching under the cold rain.

“Where are you, Miguel?” you whisper, as you do a full turn.

Your gaze moves past it, but your eyes quickly return to it. The tallest building in the city is about ten buildings away from you. You stop and look up at it, rain falling on your masked face. Before you know it, you’re running across rooftops, leaping in the air to reach the building. You hear Hobie and Jess scream at you, asking where you’re going, and you reluctantly answer through your gizmo.

“I’m just going to check something,” you reply, as you throw web at the building now, aiding you in reaching the building faster. You feel a strange sensation spread through your chest as you stick to the building and begin to run upwards. You hope you’re right and yet again you wonder what it’ll mean if you are, but you don’t spend too much time thinking about this. All you care about at the end of the day is that Miguel is found and well. You continue to run, lifting yourself up with your web. You use a combination of running and lifting to reach the top of the building, meanwhile you can sense other members far behind joining you.

And why wouldn’t they when they see the speed and determination in your movements. To everyone paying attention, you’re climbing the tallest building in the city as if you know that your distant and serious commander is on that rooftop.

And he is.

You see his slumped figured over a wall and rush with a speed that almost makes it seem like you teleported to him. You are kneeled at his right side almost instantly, eyes scanning his bare face.

You quickly lift your gizmo and inform the others.

“Miguel has been found. He’s on the tallest building’s rooftop,” you say, sounding ragged not only because of the climb but also because of relief that you’ve found him. You notice his chest moving. Breathing. “He’s breathing!” you add, informing your colleagues.

You notice raindrops running down his face and without a second thought, you remove your mask and lay it over his head as an attempt to shield his face. Your worry for Miguel is so strong that you don’t even notice the coldness of the rain on your face or the fact that your hair is getting damp.

You move closer to him now. “Miguel,” you say and tentatively grab his right shoulder. “Miguel, can you hear me?” you ask loudly, hoping he’ll hear you over the pouring rain.

You take in the sight of Miguel, anguish spreading through your body as you try to get a sense of his injuries. His brown hair is wet from the rain, making it stick to his forehead. His face looks like it has lost some color, which worries you instantly, but you try not to think negatively. Miguel is a strong man, and you know his spider abilities allow him to withhold many injuries. The only thing bothering you is that you don’t know the extent of the injuries he may have. For all you know, they could be serious, which is why you’re careful when you look down at his body, trying to find any sign of injury, but his suit looks intact.

“Miguel,” you say again and this time you cup the right side of his face in your hand, immediately feeling the coldness of his skin even through your suit. Shame rushes through you as you hold his face, feeling like you’re disrespecting him and his boundaries regarding physical touch, but you push past it and call his name again.

And this time, Miguel shifts slightly. His eyes flutter open slowly before they move to you.

“You are here” he mumbles, with his maroon eyes meeting yours.

“Miguel! Yes, we’re here. Don’t worry, we’re taking you back home, okay?” you say softly, reassuring him. “Where are you hurt?” you ask him just as other members finally reach the rooftop.

“I have glass shards in my torso,” he says, closing his eyes. “And a few deep cuts. My gizmo is not working,” he adds softly with eyes still closed, feeling your suited hand cupping his face gently.

You nod though he cannot see you and look down at his gizmo since he mentioned it, noticing for the first time the broken device. You’ve never seen or heard of anyone’s breaking, not even during a gruesome fight since Miguel and Lyla spent a lot of time making sure they were durable in these kinds of scenarios. You wonder how it was possible that it managed to get broken. You shove your thoughts away and remove your hand from Miguel’s face. You quickly remove your gizmo and gently take Miguel’s right arm in your free hand as you’re suddenly surrounded by your colleagues. You slide your gizmo into his free wrist, ensuring that he won’t glitch any more in the meantime before he’s back to Nueva York, so he won’t be in additional pain. You let go of his arm and turn slightly to see who’s made it already.

Miguel opens his eyes when he feels the gizmo around his wrist. He looks at your hands, your wrist now empty. He wants to tell you to take it back or you’ll glitch soon, but Jess begins to talk, giving orders to your colleagues as the second in command, preventing him from warning you.

“We need to get him to HQ immediately,” she says stepping closer. “We’ll need to carry him carefully as we don’t know the extent of the injuries,” she adds looking down at Miguel and you, who remains kneeled at his side. She looks around and calls out some of your colleagues’ names, including yours, to help carry Miguel to HQ.

You and the others immediately get on it. You turn to Miguel and give him an apologetic look though his eyes are closed again before you take his arm. You put all your strength along with Ben Reilly to help Miguel up, but you end up getting replaced by Peter once it becomes apparent that your height difference is an issue. Still, you stand by closely making sure that they don’t hurt him in the process. Someone opens a portal just as Jess gives the order to the other members to search for the anomalies.

You watch as Ben and Peter hold Miguel, walking carefully into the portal. Jess motions for you to go, following closely behind you.

“The infirmary staff is ready to treat him. They should be waiting for us,” Jess says as you step foot back in HQ.

You briefly look around at the infirmary sector before your eyes return to Miguel. Sure enough, infirmary staff approach the three men and before you know it, Miguel is on a stretcher being led away down a long hallway.

A doctor, who you hadn’t noticed before, approaches you and everyone else. You watch as the staff take Miguel away until they enter a room and disappear while Jess and the doctor talk.

“With Miguel hurt, I’ll be handling things until he recovers. That means I’ll have to be away, but you can direct yourself to -” Jess says pausing, looking around before her eyes land on you. “You can direct yourself to her. Y/N,” you hear Jess.

You turn at the mention of your name. You find her, the doctor and Peter looking at you.

“As the second in command, I’ll be taking over for now. Peter, you’ll be my second in command in the meantime. And you,” Jess says nodding at you. “You’ll be my third in command. I need you to stay here and keep us updated on Miguel’s status. You’re also to make sure that his privacy is respected,” she says with a frown. “I doubt anyone will try anything, but I rather be safe than sorry. Make sure no one tries to go in for any reason. If he wants visitors once he’s awake, it’ll be up to him.”

You nod.

“Of course, I’ll keep you updated and make sure no one intrudes on his priva-” you start but stop when you glitch. You cry out as you experience glitching for the first time and nearly lose your balance, but Peter catches you before you fall.

“You’re glitching – where is your gizmo?” Peter asks confused as he holds you, keeping you steady.

You huff in pain and look up as the feeling starts fading away. You meet Peter and Jess’s eyes.

“I gave it to Miguel to prevent him from glitching again in the time it took us to transport him,” you finally say softly, still feeling a little out of breath. You can’t help but think how awful it feels to glitch even in good health, making you wonder what it must have felt like for Miguel while being injured. You sigh softly. “I’ll keep you guys updated. And I’ll make sure Miguel is undisturbed,” you add.

Jess and Peter look at you before the two of them nod.

“I’ll have someone send you a gizmo in a while. For now, put this on to prevent more glitching,” Jess says pulling out a day pass from her pocket. She hands it to you, and you slide it on immediately, thanking her. “Peter and I will be in Miguel’s lab. Margo and Lyla are still trying to fix the system. We need to get it fixed before we find ourselves with multiple anomalies running loose, so we’ll be taking care of that. As I said, someone will deliver a gizmo so you can keep us updated, alright?”

You nod and Jess nods back at you. She stares at you for a few seconds as if she wants to say more but she looks over at Peter, who meets her eyes before he turns to you. He gives you a reassuring smile.

“We’ll get through this. Everything will be alright. Right, Jess?” he says, turning his attention back to Jess as he lets go of you at last, sensing you’re more stable now after glitching.

“Right,” Jess says before she nods at you and gives her thanks to the doctor, who hurries off. Jess, too, departs, heading to the elevator with Ben following behind.

Your gaze moves to the doctor as she walks down the hallway. Your eyes follow her even when you feel Peter’s hand on your shoulder.

“He’ll be okay. Miguel is a strong guy,” he says softly in a reassuring tone, also watching the doctor for a few seconds. He sighs and squeezes your shoulder gently before he departs, following Jess and Ben to the elevator.

You stand alone in the infirmary’s quiet lobby now. You look around to distract yourself. Thankfully you’ve never needed to be here, so you’re not familiar with this floor. You find yourself walking to the windows. It’s still dark out, so you can see the lights on from other buildings and cars in the distance despite the blurriness due to the soft rain. You stare out of the windows for some time, your mind taken up by Miguel and his health.

It's not until you feel a tap on the shoulder that you turn away from the windows. You find Ben Reilly, who offers you a small smile before he hands you a gizmo and a tablet.

“Jess sends this. The gizmo for obvious reasons and the tablet to keep you occupied while you wait,” he says, still giving you a smile.

You take both devices and nod at him, giving him a small smile. “Thank you, Ben. I appreciate it,” you say as you slide on the new gizmo.

Ben nods, staring at you. You hold on to the tablet, looking down at it before Ben breaks the silence. “Pretty crazy, right?”

You look up just as he pushes his hair to the side a bit, and nod before turning to face the windows again. “Yes.”

The two of you stare out the window for a few seconds in silence, watching the rain.

“Miguel will be alright, I think. He’s a buff dude,” Ben says, trying to reassure you. You smile sadly and nod.

You hear Ben pop his fingers next to you. “I must head back now. Jess and Peter needs everyone on board to find those anomalies so – I’ll see you around.”

You turn to face him and thank him again. “Thank you. Please tell Jess and Peter that if they need me to do anything else, to let me know.”

Ben nods as he stands in front of you, giving you another small smile. “Consider it done. By the way, the way you leaped up that building was – very impressive and I mean that in a good way,” he adds.

You nod again, feeling somewhat lighter with Ben’s comment as you’ve learned over the last months that he’s really into dramatic poses and such and you have a feeling he’s trying to lighten up the mood despite the situation. “Thank you, Ben. I appreciate the compliment.”

Ben nods one more time before he starts departing but turns around again, remembering something.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Your mask,” he says walking back to you and pulling your mask from under his hoodie and handing it to you. “It fell when we carried Miguel back here.”

You take it from his hand. You completely forgot about it once you put it over Miguel’s head. You thank him again for his help before he departs, leaving you alone again. You slide the mask into one of your suit’s hidden pockets and hold on to the tablet but don’t boot it up. Instead, you turn your attention back to the windows. You wait patiently there, hoping that someone will come and give you an update, but no one comes. Your mind goes back to what happened tonight and you try to think of an explanation but eventually drop it. You don’t know what happened tonight. You don’t know what led you to sense Miguel’s situation but you’re glad he’s safe now, in his universe and that’s all that matters.

It’s not until almost two hours later that you hear footsteps. You turn around immediately, for once departing from your spot by the windows. Your eyes find the doctor from earlier as she heads your way. She gives you a nod of acknowledgment as she reaches you.

“Mr. O’Hara is stable now. He had multiple glass shards on his torso, many of which were small, so we needed to ensure we didn’t miss any of them to prevent an infection. He also has two large cuts on the left side of his torso and a stab wound in the middle of his abdomen. It was pretty deep, and it will take a few days to fully heal. We know he glitched a few times and it took some toll on his body, so that’s why it’ll make his injuries heal slower, but he’ll recover successfully,” the doctor informs you with a kind voice. “Would you like to see him? He’s still passed out due to the meds, but you can stay in the room with him now.”

You nod immediately. “Yes, please. And thank you for the update. I’ll let the others know right away,” you say, as the two of you walk down the hallway.

You can’t help but feel your heart pound in your chest as you approach the room. The doctor opens the door for you, letting you in.

“Let us know if you need anything,” she says before she closes the door softly, giving you privacy.

The hospital room’s lights are off except for two lamps to the left side of the room and a light behind the hospital bed, where you find Miguel. You carefully walk closer to the bed, your eyes scanning his face under the soft lighting. As you step closer and stand by his side at last, your eyes continue to observe his face. Miguel’s face is relaxed, and you can’t help but think how boyish he looks while sleeping. It’s as if all the worries and threats to the multiverse are nonexistent at this moment.

You notice his hair is dry now, but it’s still pressed to his forehead, giving him a messy look, which just adds to the boyish look. You fight the urge to fix it and instead pull a chair closer to the bed before you take a seat. You remember you need to update everyone, so you send a quick message to Jess, notifying her that Miguel is stable and what the doctor said about his injuries. It takes a few seconds before she replies that she’s relieved to hear the news. She also asks you to let her know when Miguel wakes up.

You sit on your chair near Miguel, listening to his even and slow breathing. You watch his chest gently rise and fall before your eyes trace his face. His face still needs to regain its natural color but he’s alive and he’ll recover. All is well now. For the first time since you woke up, you exhale deeply; releasing pent up emotions now that your very own eyes can confirm that Miguel is safe. Before you know it, you feel tears pooling in your eyes as you stare at Miguel’s sleeping face.

You rest an arm on the chair’s armchair and rest your chin on your hand as you feel the tears run down your face softly. Your lips quiver as you hold a soft sob in the quiet hospital room, unable to stop yourself from crying.

Tonight is the first time in four years that you’ve felt anything remotely close to what you felt the day you lost Peter. The dread that grew with each second as you headed to find him. The tightening of your chest that made it difficult to breathe as you swung from building to building. The feeling that you were going to be too late. Again.

Of course, you know it’s different. Peter had a small window of time that to this day you believe you missed. You felt lucky enough that you were able to say goodbye to him. Meanwhile, Miguel could’ve probably hung on for a little longer due to his powers and yet, you still felt those same emotions while you searched for him. You continue to cry quietly, letting the tears run freely down your face as you watch over him.

You’re unable to stop yourself from thinking the worst. Sure, you are superheroes but that doesn’t mean you are invisible to danger or death. As your eyes remain on Miguel’s sleeping face, your chest feels heavy at the brief thought of something worse happening to him, making your eyes tear up more. You cry quietly, covering your mouth until you calm down.

You sniffle once your tears slow down and blame it on your lack of sleep and the adrenaline completely leaving your body now. You dry your face and breathe in before exhaling softly. The last thing you want is for someone to see you like this. You check your gizmo, reading the time. It’s past 5:30 A.M. and when you look towards the windows from your spot, you see the first signs of daylight.

Miguel made it to another day.

You turn back to Miguel. He’s still sleeping with his head resting against soft pillows. The sight of Miguel in a hospital gown feels so wrong. It’s still strange to see him in anything other than his suit as you’ve only ever seen him in normal clothes three times: Christmas Eve, Christmas, and New Years Eve. As you watch over him, your eyes land on his arms. It seems that the grey hospital gown is a bit tight as the sleeves hug his large biceps but despite that, he looks relaxed with his arms at his sides, hands curled softly.

You observe his sleeping figure, eyes tracing his arms down to his large hands. Your eyes then flicker to his bare neck and part of his collarbone where you spot a small piece of gauze taped to his skin with medical tape. You wonder just how many of those he has on his torso on top of the large wounds. You sigh deeply as you continue to watch over Miguel, wishing that this hadn’t happened.

You feel a shiver run through your body, feeling slightly cold when the AC turns on. You look at the end of the bed and find a folded blanket. You get up and grab it, laying it over Miguel’s body gently. You bring it up to his neck, making sure to cover his arms which you imagine might get cold. You stand over him, staring at him for a few seconds before you walk to the windows to stretch your legs.

You cross your arms across your chest. It’s still raining, and the sky is beginning to brighten though it remains grey and cloudy because of the weather. You spot more traffic now, too. The city is slowly waking up as you stare out for a few minutes. You turn back around and lean on the windows as you take a quick glance around the room for the first time. The appearance of the room was the last thing on your mind when you first came in and even now you just briefly scan the room. You notice it’s very spacious with a sitting area for visitors to the right of the room when you enter. Across from it, on the other side of the door, there’s a room, which you suspect is the bathroom. You turn to your right now, noticing a screen displayed on the wall, facing Miguel. A TV, you realize before your eyes return to Miguel.

Your eyes flicker to the sitting area for visitors for a moment, making you think of his family. He has none left, like you. You sigh softly, remembering thoughts you used to have before joining the Spider Society. There were many times when you went out on patrols and sat on rooftops, observing the streets below when your mind took you to a depressing place after Peter’s death.

You wondered many times what would happen the day you die. You have no family and you cut ties with friends from your universe. You quit your job, so you didn’t even have colleagues. No one would go look for you if something happened to you. No one would claim you as family.

It was scary and depressing to think of this and so you pushed it away and hoped each time that one day you’d have someone – anyone – in your life. Someone who could say something about you. You hoped that it wouldn’t be so lonely then, at least not the way it felt when you arrived home with cuts and bruises that you had to tend to by yourself after Peter’s death. No longer did you fall into Peter’s arms, who held you for a few seconds before he sat you down to clean and tend to your wounds, comforting you with his gentle voice and touch.

As you stare at Miguel and think about this and the fact that Miguel has no family either, you’re glad that Jess assigned you to do this, though you realize you would’ve requested to do it regardless. The idea of anyone waking up alone in a hospital room depresses you and that feeling only intensifies as you think of Miguel, the man that longed for a family so much he inserted himself in another universe to fulfill that dream when he had a chance.

Only to lose it.

You shake your head softly, still staring at him. You’ve never wished this much for someone to be happy like you’ve done towards Miguel. You hope one day he can move forward. That one day, life will treat this man better. This man that deserves so much more but who has lost so much.

“Gabi,” Miguel mutters softly.

You straighten up and walk over to him, standing by his side. Miguel is still sleeping but his brows are furrowed as he mutters Gabriella’s name again. You stand there, not knowing what to do. Your hands wish to reach for his to comfort him, but you’re still set on respecting his wish of no physical touch, so you settle with placing them near his hand instead.

“Gabi.”

Your eyebrows lower and knit together in sadness as you hear Miguel call for Gabriella again.

“Miguel,” you say softly, not sure it’ll even help. “It’s okay,” you whisper.

“Gabi,” Miguel mutters, moving his head slightly against the pillows.

You watch his face as a heavy feeling overwhelms your chest, wishing you could do more. Miguel grows restless, moving his head more. You notice that his hands also begin to move under the blanket you covered him in. It takes you a few seconds to see that the blanket seems stuck to his hands. You pull the blanket off him gently from your side to see his hand, finding his extended talons stuck to the fabric. You have no other choice but to pull the blanket off him gently, successfully freeing his talons. You look down at them for a second, seeing them for the first time outside of the suit before you return your gaze to Miguel’s face.

“Miguel,” you say. “It’s okay… It’s okay.”

Miguel continues to move restlessly, and you fear that he’ll hurt himself in the process, so you do the one thing you think of. You take his hand softly in your own and squeeze gently, whispering softly that everything is alright. You feel his hand move slightly in yours, causing you to feel one of his talons against your hand. You feel some pain even through your suit, but you push past it and continue to hold his hand, talking to him even though you’re sure he can’t hear you.

You watch helplessly as tears gently begin to roll down Miguel’s face as he continues to call for Gabi.

“Mija.”

You hold his hand in yours as he cries in his sleep, occasionally feeling his talons dig into your skin softly. You softly whisper reassuring words, hoping it will cease his crying as the sight devastates you to your core, but he grows restless, and the heart monitor begins to warn about his heart. You look up, noticing his heart rate is increasing rapidly. You rush to the door and yell for the doctor, full of worry.

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ _ _ _ _ _ _ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/

Miguel stands in front of his penthouse’s windows, looking out. The sky is a light blue, and the sun is shining brightly, illuminating the entire place. His eyes take in the sight of distant skyscrapers below soft clouds in the sky. Cars fly in the distance. The city is busy as always. He stands there for what feels like minutes watching in silence before it’s broken.

“Hermano.”

Miguel turns around instantly at the sound of his brother’s voice. He finds him standing a few feet away from him.

“Gabrielito?” Miguel says softly, feeling shocked to see him after so long.

Gabriel gives him that smile. That cheeky smile that got him in trouble too many times.

“It’s been a long time, hermano,” Gabriel says before making his way to Miguel, who finds himself meeting Gabriel halfway.

The O’Hara brothers embrace each other in the older brother’s living room. Miguel holds his much smaller brother tightly, not quite believing that this is happening. Gabriel is here.

“It’s been a long time,” Miguel agrees, still hugging his younger brother.

The O’Hara brothers pull back and Miguel can’t help but smile at his younger brother as he takes in the sight of Gabriel’s face. He doesn’t seem older despite the years.

“Miguel – it’s so good to see you again, hermano,” Gabriel says laying a hand on Miguel’s bicep. “Look at you. You look well! Though, do I spot a grey hair from here?” Gabriel teases, making Miguel frown.

“Very funny, Gabriel.”

“You know I’m just playing but if you keep going like this, you’ll start seeing them,” Gabriel warns.

“If I keep going like this?” Miguel asks, his frown deepening.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Working all day and night. No sleep except for once a week or those random naps you take, which don’t help by the way. Your eating habits. It’s too much on your body, despite being a superhero.”

Miguel doesn’t respond. Gabriel’s face softens.

“Hermano, you can’t keep going like this. It’s painful to watch, you know. You deserve so much more from life, Mig.”

Miguel looks away. “Gabriel – you don’t know the things I’ve done.”

“I do know… and I’m not here to judge you. I could never but I’m worried about you. I’ve been for a long time. Miguel – you have so much life ahead of you. It’s painful to watch you do this to yourself. You deserve to be happy and not waste your life away working day and night because you think that’s all your life is meant for. It’s not. And I’m not the only one who agrees, by the way.”

Miguel turns his face back to Gabriel, raising an eyebrow with curiosity as his younger brother’s words sink in.

“There’s someone that wants to see you,” Gabriel says softly with a gentle smile before he nods behind Miguel.

Miguel turns around, not knowing what to expect but there they are. He finds his wife, who smiles brightly at him and Gabriella, in the arms of his variant, Gabriella’s biological father, standing there. Miguel freezes, feeling a rush of mixed emotions at the sight but it all fades away when Gabriella jumps out of the arms of her biological father and runs to him.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Miguel feels his heart burst with happiness at the sight of her running to greet him. He drops to his knees and opens his arms wide just as Gabriella runs into him. He instantly wraps his arms around her, unable to believe that he’s holding her again. Gabriella wraps her arms around his neck, happy to see him.

“Mija,” Miguel mumbles as tears pool around his eyes, spilling almost immediately down his face as he holds Gabi close.

“Daddy, it’s okay. Please don’t cry. I’m okay,” Gabi says softly, trying to calm Miguel down but he’s unable to stop the tears and the gentle shaking of his chest as he holds his daughter once again.

“Mija,” he repeats, closing his eyes as he embraces his daughter.

“It’s okay, daddy. Please don’t cry. I hate to see you cry,” Gabi tells him, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck. “I hate seeing you unhappy. You should be happy. You deserve it.”

Miguel shakes his head softly. “Mija… you don’t understand.”

But Gabi pulls back gently, meeting her father’s eyes. “I do. I know everything – and it’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry,” she says gently, sounding much older than she looks.

Miguel’s teary eyes meet his daughter’s as the truth sinks in. Gabi knows. Miguel looks up at his variant, who stands nearby. Miguel clears his throat, feeling shame and guilt as he meets the other Miguel’s eyes. He returns his gaze to Gabi and gives her a hug before he stands up, holding her in his arms. He approaches the other Miguel, looming over him. He gives a quick glance to his wife, who nods at him, as if she knows that he needs to have this discussion first before talking to her.

Miguel looks down at his variant and gives him an apologetic look.

“Miguel – I’m so sorry for – everything,” Miguel begins softly. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

Miguel expects his variant to respond negatively. To tell him off about pretending to be the father of his daughter. For trying to live his life. For not telling the truth to Gabi. For everything else he did that he cannot bear to think about now, but his variant surprises him with a sad smile.

“I know why you did it. I understand it. And I’m not mad…” Miguel’s variant starts, meeting his eyes. “You did something for me that I’ll never be able to repay.”

Miguel furrows his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting this reaction from his variant. He feels Gabi hug him as his variant continues.

“Had you not done what you did – Gabi’s life would’ve been very different those months you spent with her. You know very well what would’ve happened,” his variant continues, alluding to the fact that Gabi turned into an orphan and would’ve been placed in an orphanage had Miguel not stepped in. “For that – I thank you deeply. And of course, for being her father,” he finishes softly, acknowledging that Miguel is Gabi’s father as well.

Miguel nods slowly, feeling tears again but Gabi swipes them away.

“It’s okay, daddy. You don’t need to cry anymore, right, papá?” Gabi asks, turning to face her biological father, who nods. “We’re all okay here.”

Miguel nods at Gabi, holding her in his arms before he turns to his variant. “Thank you,” he whispers and his variant nods, giving him that same sad smile.

Miguel continues to hold Gabi, feeling like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. For so long he has carried shame and guilt over what he did but his variant and Gabi were forgiving of his actions. “Thank you,” Miguel whispers again, as Gabi holds him tighter, reminding Miguel how it felt to hold his child. Soft tears run down his face even when he turns to his wife who has been watching, waiting.

“I..,” Miguel trails off, not knowing how to continue for he has thought about her and their relationship a lot in the last few months.

He feels a different kind of shame washing over him. The more time passed, the more Miguel realized how differently he wished things had been. He had fallen in love too fast, wanting to fulfill his dream of having a family and he felt like he dragged her into it. He felt like he rushed her into marriage, but his wife meets his eyes with tenderness and nods.

“Miguel…” she says with a sigh. “We both made that decision. You didn’t rush me into anything I didn’t want to, but we did rush into it, didn’t we?” she asks softly with a small smile, taking his hand in hers. “We both wanted a family so badly and perhaps – perhaps we both sensed it would end soon and that’s why we held on to it so badly.”

She holds his hand and squeezes it gently, reassuringly, as she steps closer.

“I love you. And I know you love me, too… but our love was different, wasn’t it?” she asks softly. “Perhaps we could’ve really fallen in love if we had the time…” she continues. “But we didn’t and that’s okay, Miguel. I don’t hold that against you. We both wanted it badly and made the decision, so please stop carrying this guilt, okay? Miguel, por favor, live your life. For our sake,” she says softly, pausing. “Don’t you think it hurts us to see you like this?” she asks, looking at the others. “It’s painful to watch you do this to yourself. You’re so full of life, wasting it all living like this when there’s so many people out there to meet and befriend… to love. You have amazing people by you, don’t be afraid to show them the wonderful man you are.”

Miguel nods softly though the idea alone seems strange. He feels Gabi shift in his arms slightly, looking behind him.

“I just – I don’t know how to do this again. Losing you, all of you, has been too much,” he admits.

“But you haven’t lost us, hermano,” Gabriel says coming from behind, giving him a side hug. Miguel turns to look down at his younger brother again. “We’re always with you. Even if you don’t believe it or sense us, we’re always there. In every mission. In every universe. Every day and sleepless night.”

“You’re just too busy sometimes to sense us, daddy but we watch over you,” Gabi adds with her toothy smile. “We’re with you always. We visit you all the time, which reminds me - I loved my pancakes and the toys you gave me. Papá and I played a match with the new soccer ball you left for me on Dia de los Muertos. Thank you for leaving my favorite candy, too.”

Miguel cries softly and holds Gabi tighter in his arms. “You…” he attempts but is unable to finish his thought about them visiting him that night.

“We’re always with you,” his wife confirms with a smile meeting his eyes but she, too, looks behind him for a second.

He feels Gabi shift again, looking behind him. “She’s calling you,” she says softly.

Miguel dries his face with the sleeves of his shirt. “Who?” he asks, confused.

“You know who,” Gabriel says with a small smile. “You know exactly who. Miguel – you have a long life ahead of you. Make it count,” he whispers. “Leave a legacy that’s far greater than your leadership. Far greater than your duty and work. Live life, hermano. I know it’s not easy and we don’t expect you to move forward overnight but try. Try for us in the beginning until you find it in you to do it for yourself. Just try,” Gabriel says softly.

Miguel nods with tears. “I’ll try, Gabrielito. I’ll try.”

Gabriel smiles. “It’s been great seeing you, Miguelito.”

“Don’t call me that,” Miguel says but he says it with a smile.

“For old time’s sake, hermano,”Gabriel says and wipes his own tears away. “It’s been really great seeing you, but you must return now.”

“Return?” Miguel asks confused, still holding Gabi in his arms.

“You’ve been away too long, daddy. You must go back now. It’ll be alright,” Gabi says with a smile.

Everyone turns to look behind Miguel. He doesn’t know what they keep looking at.

“I don’t want to leave…” Miguel says softly, holding Gabi closer.

“Miguel – you must. It’s not time yet. And she’s calling you,” his wife says.

“Who’s calling me?” he asks.

His wife smiles and shakes her head. “One of the brightest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t see it, do you?”

Miguel stares at his wife before he meets the other two adults’ gazes. He realizes it. He must go. He nods slowly and holds Gabi for a minute longer, closing his eyes. Gabi hugs him tighter.

“There’s nothing to forgive but I know you need to hear it, so I’ll say it. I forgive you… You’ll always be my dad, no matter what,” she whispers, filling Miguel’s chest with ache and love all at once.

“Mija… Thank you,” Miguel breathes out gently.

He puts Gabi down, smiling down at her. He doesn’t understand it. She looks the same age she was when she passed away, but she sounds so much wiser. Like she knows more than he does. He pats her head softly before he meets his variant’s gaze.

“Thank you again…”

His variant nods, giving him a gentle smile.

Miguel’s eyes turn to his wife, who’s already looking at him. She nods softly.

“We’ll see you when it’s your time,” she says before she takes his hand again, giving it a soft squeeze before releasing it.

Finally, Miguel turns to Gabriel.

“It’ll be alright, hermano. We’ll see you when it’s time. And don’t forget we’re always with you,” he says as Gabi leans on him. Miguel watches his brother pick up Gabriella, holding her in his arms. “It’s time.”

Miguel nods before he gives his brother and Gabriella a hug, wrapping his long arms around them. He pulls his wife into it, too. He ends up offering his hand to his variant, inviting him into the hug. At the end of the day, they were linked. Forever.

His variant accepts his hand and gives him a nod, joining the moment.

They pull apart a few seconds later, giving Miguel space. He stares at them as they stand side by side, his brother still holding Gabi. They smile at him and give him reassuring nods. Miguel nods just as his variant walks closer to him, separating from the group as if to talk with him in private.

“Before you go… I want to tell you that I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago, really. I thank you for being a father to Gabi, for treating her the way I would’ve and know that in her eyes and mine, you are a father to her. I also want to tell you… that you have a chance, Miguel. Take it,” his variant says softly. “Our lives have never been easy, and you know that, but one thing I learned when I was alive was that sometimes all you need is a small purpose to keep you going,” his variant says briefly looking back at Gabi. “And I don’t mean work, for we both know what that does to us. Find the true purpose. Keep going. Live life. Accept those that wish to be near you,” he says, laying a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “You’re worthy of it, don’t forget that.”

Miguel nods. “Thank you, Miguel.”

His variant nods, giving him a smile before he returns to the group. Miguel watches them for a few seconds.

“Go on, daddy! You must return now,” Gabi says looking behind him.

“She’s still calling you,” Gabriel adds but Miguel still doesn’t know who is calling him.

Miguel turns around. He’s no longer met with the view of his large windows facing the city, instead all he sees is a warm light. He turns back around.

“I’ll see you again, right?” he asks, quietly.

His family nods.

“Of course, and we’ll be ready for that day when it comes, hermano but that day is not today. For now, just now we’re always with you,” Gabriel says. “And I don’t mean to rush you, but you should really get back now.”

Miguel nods once again and before he leaves, he walks the short distance and gives everyone a last hug, squeezing Gabi and Gabriel tighter. He returns to his spot and nods. It’s time. He waves goodbye before he turns around to face the light. He walks into it, seeing nothing but light and when he looks behind his shoulder, he sees his family wave goodbye one last time. Miguel’s heart aches as he walks away but there’s also a lightness that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/

“It’s okay, Miguel,” you shakily whisper as Miguel mumbles something in his sleep.

You watch him with your tear-stained face after what happened. The last thirty minutes were overwhelming to say the least. You try to forget it for now but you’re unable to put away the worry and stress of what you witnessed. As Miguel mumbles in his sleep again, you release a shaky breath.

Miguel’s heartbeat gave up for a few minutes and all you could do was watch and call his name helplessly as the medical professionals resuscitated him. You stand by his side now, thankful but still on edge as Miguel moves his head slightly.

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” you whisper as he moves.

You notice his eyebrows furrowing as he mumbles yet something else, but his words are incoherent. You watch as his eyes move under his eyelids before they begin to flutter as if he’s waking up. You hold your breath, as it slowly becomes apparent his eyes are opening. Miguel looks around the hospital room slowly as if trying to figure out where he’s at before they fall on you.

“Y/N…” he whispers softly.

________________________

*Translation for italicized Spanish words:* Mierda - shit Mija - my daughter Hermano - brother Papá - dad Por favor - please Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Death ___

Thank you for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this part despite the angst. The next part will contain more fluff, promise 🥹 can we just talk about reader giving Miguel her gizmo??? 😭 I don't know why but that made me so sad and that probably sounds stupid since I wrote it but anyway... I still love Miguel ❤️

-Alondra

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