#spider therapist x y/n

[mysadcorner]

So basically my request is reader being a new spiderwoman and becoming apart of Miguel O'Hara spider society team and her meeting everyone and then she walks into spider!therapists office and he is all like "so you're new, how r u whats ur backstory" etc etc but then reader sits down beside him and is like "no... how r u?" To him and he looks at her all like 😍😍😍😍 "marry me" I hope u can somehow put this into headcanons bahahaha

Ezekiel Sims x Spider!Reader Headcanons

Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in headcanons -

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When you’re in a new environment you’re going to be feeling disoriented and confused, and naturally overwhelmed if quite a lot is coming on. This makes a Spider!Therapist so much easier to go to, as you definitely need someone you can feel comfortable opening up to without judgement.

When you first meet Ezekiel you would honestly have no idea where to open up about first. But he’s already well equipped for this and will try his best to make you feel comfortable about opening up to him through whatever means you may mean. Because of this he’ll be very lighthearted with you (compared to what others may want or need from a therapist).

He knows that he shouldn’t, but Ezekiel knows that you need someone closer to you that can provide you comfort, rather than just having someone you open up to during a set hour. If he thinks that you’re comfortable enough for him to flirt then he will, starting subtly and testing the waters to see how you may initially feel about him.

You’ll immediately feel at ease around him and realise that he is actually listening to you. He’s heard almost the exact same thing so many times, so when you open up about something new he just can’t turn his attention away from it, and from this he figures you out quite well including your mannerisms and potential beliefs.

After a few sessions with him, you’ll realise that he’s always the one listening to others (and this must take a big toll on him). So rather than spending this session surrounding your problems, you directly ask him what he struggles with and offer to listen to anything he wants to open up about. In this moment he almost has a heart attack.

He immediately wants to het closer to you after this, since not only have you given him a new outlet but you’ve also showed that you genuinely care for him. He rarely has free time as he’s dealing with everyone else’s problems, but when he is free you can bet that he’ll be asking you on a date or wants some real quality time with you outside of therapy sessions.

He would be more than happy to enter a relationship with you, but he would make it known that he can’t always be available due to his professions. Which you completely understand due to your own responsibilities. He tries his best to comfort you and for you both to be honest with each other as much as possible, and because of this things always go at a comfortable pace for the two of you.

After being vulnerable with you and honest, he would be more than willing to show his commitment in the long term. Marriage or anything else you could think of would never be out of the question for him, and he’d naturally know what you would be looking for in a relationship with him due to how well you communicate with each other.

[miguelswifey04]

coping mechanisms with spider-therapist x gn! reader (no smut)

summary: you go to the seek advice from the spider-therapist at the spider society to help guide you to control you anger due to miguel driving you insane. despite, spider-therapist’s sarcastic demeanor he’s somewhat helpful.

the therapist sighed out of disappointment the moment he heard someone walk into his office. as soon as he looked up you caught him off guard as he was stunned by your beauty. he sat back in his chair trying to regain his professional composure, holding his clip board.

“welcome, Y/N. please, have a seat.” he gestured you on over to sit on the brown cushioned chair giving you a curt smile. deep down he knew he had to control himself and not make a fool out of his self.

the therapist glanced at you as you made yourself comfortable and slight shifted whenever he’d look at you. his tired eyes behind his spider-man mask showing little interest. he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his desk.

“so, what brings you here today, Y/N? what issues are you hoping to discuss?" he asked, his voice laden with sarcasm. you took noticed of his sarcasm which made you advert his gaze and look down at your lap as you bounced your leg up and down. there was something about him being so attentive towards you but you had to remind yourself this was his job as a therapist—to help you.

you spoke up finally after being lost in your own thoughts. “um—just healthier coping mechanisms for my anger and stress…” your words came out stronger than what you intended. you shifted under his eye contact it was very intense but you knew he was just giving you his undivided attention—that was his job here at the spider society.

the therapist raised an eyebrow, his sarcastic smirk widening. he reached for a pen, twirling it between his fingers. your eyes were glued on the way he twirled the pen in between his fingers and how long they were and how well-kept his nails were.

“ah, anger and stress," he mused, feigning interest. "well, lucky for you, Y/N, i’m an expert in providing absolutely stellar advice on healthy coping mechanisms. so, tell me, what exactly triggers this anger and stress of yours? any specific situations or people?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“yeah—miguel o’hara pisses me off. he always on my ass all the time and god he never leaves me be…always nagging me.” you went off on a rant about how miguel would trigger your anger and obviously your stress. you noticed you kind of went off and blurted out everything.

the therapist leaned back in his chair, his masked face displaying a faint trace of amusement. he listened to your rant, seemingly unaffected by your outburst of frustration.

“miguel o’hara, huh?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "sounds like a real pain in the ass. but here's a thought, Y/N, have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you might be contributing to your own anger and stress by allowing miguel to get under your skin? just a little something to ponder," he replied nonchalantly, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

“uhhh—yeah, i guess.” you shrugged, but he was right. you were the only person who could be in control of your own reactions and emotions. even if miguel was a pain in the ass—you had the option to let him get under your skin or not.

the therapist arched an eyebrow, his expression not betraying any emotion. “well, well, it seems like there might be a glimmer of self-awareness in there after all," he remarked, his voice laced with mock surprise. "so, Y/N, tell me, what do you think you could do to manage your anger and stress around miguel? any ideas?" he asked, leaning in expectantly, his sarcastic attitude not giving an inch.

“i’m gonna be honest with you. i don’t have a clue how i can manage my angry outbursts because of him…that’s why i came here.” you hope you didn’t sound rude. you had to be honest and not just beat around the bush because you came for help yet he’s asking you if you could think of something to manage your stress. you started to scratch your arms in frustration.

the therapist sighed, a mix of irritation and resignation evident in his body language. “well, isn't that just delightful," he muttered, rolling his eyes beneath his mask. he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“look, Y/N, here's a revolutionary idea for you. how about you start by taking a step back from the situation? when you feel your anger rising, take a moment to breathe and remove yourself from miguel’s presence. find a quiet spot, close your eyes, count to ten, or do whatever you need to calm yourself down. and once you're calm, think about how you can approach miguel differently, perhaps with a cool head and an open mind. it’s called self-control, Y/N, and trust me when i say it's a superpower more powerful than anything spidermen have," he explained, his sarcasm dripping from every word.

“no, yeah! definitely,” you laughed as you were being sarcastic yourself. you tried to calm down as you took in a few deep breaths to try to ground yourself and not boil over like a hot tea pot ready to burst. you gave him an understanding smile, though, you knew that your smile was the most captivating aspect that made you, you.

the therapist raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by your sudden shift in demeanor. he shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he was captivated by your pretty smile but quickly regained composure.

“well, it seems like you find my stellar advice amusing," he muttered, his tone hinting at annoyance. "but, i suppose if you're willing to give it a try, it might actually work. imagine that," he added with a touch of sarcasm.

you slightly giggled at his sarcastic and aloof attitude but nonetheless you kind of liked it. at least he was being honest and helpful even if he isn’t your ordinary therapist. “mhmm i did.”

the therapist sighed in exasperation, clearly unimpressed by your sweet demeanor and determination to take his advice. probably because as a therapist he knows people don’t take his advice into consideration and just say yes to get it over in session.

“alright, Y/N, i suppose i’ll have to accept that you're willing to give it a shot. just remember, it's going to take time and effort. you won't become a master of self-control overnight," he stated, his tone begrudgingly sincere.

“is there anything else you'd like to discuss today? or is there something else you're dying to hear my oh-so-insightful advice on?" he asked, his sarcasm creeping back into his voice. you shook your head as you had nothing else to say. you started to get up from the chair, “thank you, i’m sure i’ll be needing you whenever i have an issue.”

the therapist nodded, a hint of a smile peeking through his tired eyes behind the Spider-Man mask.

“you’re welcome, Y/N, and don't worry, i’ll be here, ready to delight you with my sarcastic wisdom whenever you grace me with your presence," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of genuine gratitude and sarcasm.

as you made your way to the door, he called out after you, unable to resist a parting comment, "and remember, Y/N, be sure to find some quiet time for yourself. i hear massages are excellent for stress relief. just a little suggestion for your journey to enlightenment."

with that, he reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip, watching as you left the office, his tired expression lingering with a sense of fading amusement.

———

🏷️: @kairiscorner @refridgerators @sabcandoit

[loverwebs]

It's Supposed to be Fun, Turning 21

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Peter, doesn't make it to your birthday dinner. So you walk home alone, only to run into the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Warnings: Slight angst & mentions of alcohol

Word count: 1,700

A very tired Y/n stumbled over the bumpy sidewalk of New York, cursing under her breath whenever she nearly stepped in a puddle. Her purse was crossed along her body and a bottle of wine swung from her hand.

She made her way home quickly and in annoyance, not wanting to be out any longer than she had to. With that in mind, she took a shortcut through an alleyway.

"Ma'am, stop right there!" A voice behind her shouted. She hesitantly turned, about to blow the person off, before she saw the city's masked hero within a few feet's distance.

"Holy shit! Oh, fuck did I do something? If it's the wine— I'm legally allowed to own it! And I have my ID, so please don't arrest me. I'm not even drunk!” a startled Y/n shouted.

"No, no! It’s okay," The vigilante approached her.

"Oh, okay," She said, touching her heart and sighing in relief. "Sorry for getting all jumpy there. It’s been a long day."

"No, you're fine! I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna say, you really shouldn't be walking home by yourself. It's not exactly safe, especially at night," He explained through an overly deepened voice.

"I know it's not," Sighed the girl. "My friends tried to get me to walk home with them, but my place isn't that far. And I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone."

She continued her path, glancing back at him to add a quick, "No offense."

"None taken," He replied through a jog, catching up to her. "Did you just happen to be carrying around a bottle of wine with you, though?" He softly laughed at her antics.

"Uhh, yeah, just tonight." She returned a weak one.

"What's the occasion?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"It's my birthday. I'm 21 now and I wanna have my first drink with my boyfriend. He couldn't make it to my party and the restaurant let me bring one home with me."

She smiled sadly, lifting the bottle up so he could see the written For the birthday girl, enjoy! that a waitress had signed in permanent marker.

Peter felt guilty hearing this. Not only because he didn't make it to her birthday, but because she still waited for him. Wanting to share the special moment— despite him having missed it entirely.

"Happy birthday, then." The masked boy spoke, voice cracking as he said it. "I hope you spent it well."

"It was... eh. But thank you."

"Why was it 'eh'?" He asked, holding his breath.

"It's just, I don't know." She shrugged, not wanting to get into it.

She pondered for a moment, then, "I'm not trying to be rude or like, ungrateful, but don't you have actual Spider-Man stuff to do?"

He shook his head, "Making sure you get home safely is just as important as any other mission to me... plus, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That's nice, but I wouldn't want you to stop helping someone who actually needs it because of me."

"It's fine," He waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't even worry about it. I was pretty much done for the night anyway."

All she did was nod, not entirely convinced, then he spoke again.

"Sooo.. your birthday," He started.

"Right, yeah. It was fine, I guess."

"How come?"

"You're already walking me home, the last thing I want is for you to be my therapist too." She joked.

"Well, maybe I could help cheer you up... I like to help people. It's what I do."

"My friends already tried.. and failed. What makes you think you can?"

"I'd try my luck," He suggested. "Or we could walk in awkward silence."

She laughed at that, to which he said, "So what's got you down?"

"Okay, I mean.. like I said, my boyfriend didn't show up at the restaurant, soo I kinda spent the whole night staring at the door in case he did."

"Oh." He mumbled. "Sounds like a shitty boyfriend," He whispered, a little more to himself.

"He isn't," She shook her head a few too many times.

"He's naturally late to things, yeah. And he can't always make it to stuff. But when he is there.. His presence makes everything so much better." She said truthfully.

Peter hummed in understanding, his heart feeling heavy at her defending words. Here he was in a Spider-Man suit, meanwhile she wore her best party outfit. Not even cursing at the boy for his absence.

He didn't deserve her, he thought.

"Did he at least call? You know, saying he couldn't make it?"

Silence filled the air momentarily, which was enough of an answer. Still, she said, "He usually does..."

"Yeah?" He swallowed the forming lump in his throat.

"He— he always lets me know if he can't. And he did wish me a Happy Birthday! It's just— he's— I don't know what's going on with him anymore." She gave a teary laugh.

"Sometimes, it just feels like he's gonna break up with me. I feel like he wants to do it, but he's waiting around for the perfect opportunity, y'know?" She quickly wiped her now forming tears. "Sorry, I sound really pathetic."

"What?! No. No... You don't." He paused. "You— you really think he's gonna break up with you?" He dreadfully asked.

"I don't know," She gave a weak shrug. "He's like, distant lately."

"Have you.. Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I've tried, yeah." She chewed on her lip nervously, thinking of the many instances where he canceled at the last minute when she intended on speaking with him.

"Like just this week, I asked to meet up after his afternoon class because I wanted to know if something was wrong, but..." She trailed off, holding back more tears.

"He canceled," He finished her sentence, wincing at her confirming nod.

"Right, and it's like, what am I doing wrong?" She added helplessly.

"Nothing! You're not doing anything wrong," He said through an interior panic.

"Doesn't feel like it."

They continued walking as Peter thought of the correct words to say. She'd laid her thoughts right there at his feet and he didn't know what the right move was.

He gave a desperate sigh, then proceeded to say, "I don't think he wants to break up with you."

"Seriously? That's what you're gonna tell me? You don't know that—"

"Hear me out... It's just, you know. Maybe he has a lot going on and.." He started, feeling overwhelmed.

"And maybe he hasn't been able to really tell you everything he wants you to know because he's scared. Scared to lose you. Or scared that you're already slipping away from him." He rambled on.

She slowed down her pace, tilting her head at him as a sense of familiarity within his words settled in.

He wasn't faking his tone anymore, and she wasn't as in her head as she was when he first found her.

"But you're not doing anything wrong, okay, Y/n?" He continued, voice breaking as he stepped closer to her. "I can promise you that."

She looked around to make sure the streets were empty before abruptly stopping in her tracks, eyeing him, when it finally clicked for her. She inched closer to him, while her shaky fingers tentatively reached towards the bottom of his mask.

She did so slowly, making sure he had time to stop her if he wanted to.

"Wait," He put his hand over hers. "It's not really.. It's not safe to do that here."

She understood and immediately withdrew her hand, taking a few steps back.

"Do you trust me?" He walked towards her, carefully placing his hands on her hips. With a nod, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Just like that, he aimed at a nearby building and shot a web, swinging with her in his arms. Her body tightly hugged him as they made their way to the rooftop of Peter's old apartment building. The same place they had their first date.

A sloppy "Happy Birthday" was webbed above the projector that was setup, along with blankets on an old couch that they’d made out on several times.. A few of her favorite drinks and snacks placed there as well. She noticed them as he gently put her down.

She once again turned to look at him, but his mask was already off.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Princess."

"Oh, Peter," She frowned and went to cup his face. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," He said softly, leaning into her hands.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I really wanted to... But I never knew when or how to do it. And tonight, I wanted to be there." His lips trembled.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to be there. But some guy had this really wonderful idea to rob a bank on your day, which caused a lockdown and eventually it led to a car pileup—"

She placed a kiss on his lips, shutting him up while holding onto the back of his neck in order to keep him close.

"I saw the news, Pete." She said once they parted and hugged him tightly, body shaking as she did so.

"Are you crying?" He asked through furrowed brows. "I'm so sorry I upset you, I—"

"I'm not upset with you. You don't have to apologize."

"You're not?"

"I mean, I was upset when I thought you were preparing some 'it's not you, it's me' speech on my birthday. And the thought of that hurts a lot more than knowing you kept this from me."

"I shouldn't have ever made you feel like we were gonna breakup, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to give you that impression. You have every right to be upset at me for it." He hung his head low in shame.

"Thank you for owning up to it, but it's okay now, love. I'm okay now that you're here," She reassured him. "And I'm really glad you trusted me enough to share this with me."

"Of course I trust you. I had it all planned out.. We were supposed to go to dinner first and then come here. I was gonna explain everything up here, but things just got all messy, as always."

"I just said it's okay," She giggled, tracing the spider on his chest. "Besides, I can't complain when you look this good in your suit."

She smiled at his forming blush and messed up hair, then leaned in to kiss him once again.

"I love you," He whispered against her lips.

"I love you too, Spider-Man."

[roses-r-rosie3]

Pop!: Let The Chaos Begin

Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

[Pop! Masterlist]

Warnings: Crack, Spideplush being mischievous, Miguel is a victim fr😔

Summary: Miguel is asked by reader to take care of spider plush while he goes to take care of an anomaly and spider plush ends up wreaking havoc but as soon as reader comes back from his mission spider plush acts innocent

A/n: Okay so, originally it was going to be Put It Straight that was going to get a part 2 first but I just got this idea and now I can't stop thinking abt it

Quote: "I'm gonna get back at that little shit head"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since Spider Plush was invited to the society, you have been treating him like your own child. Feeding him, bathing him, cradling him, and more. Miguel would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous from your treatment of Spider Plush. But anyways back to present day.

"Hey babe" You said as you walked into Miguel's office while cradling spider plush in your arms.

"What is it this time?" Miguel grunted.

"I just need you to babysit Spider Plush while I go handle another anomaly" You said as you handed Spider Plush to Miguel.

"Can't he just take care of himsel-"

You interrupted Miguel by giving him the 'don't test me' glare.

"Alright! Have fun and be safe!" Miguel laughed awkwardly.

"Bye Bye Spider Plush, your other dad will take care of you while I'm gone" You said after you gave Spider Plush one last kiss before you opened a portal.

"Dad?!" Miguel yelled as you walked into the portal.

When you were finally gone, everything seemed normal, at first.

"So.. uhhh.. how are you?" Miguel said.

Spider Plush looked at Miguel, blinked a few times, and he immediately got out of Miguel's hands and started to attack him.

"GAHH!" Miguel yelled as the spider plush started to attack his face.

Miguel started to try and tear the Plush off of his face as he stumbled around and accidentally knocking stuff off of his desk. When Miguel finally ripped the plush off of his face, Spider Plush started to run away to cause more chaos.

"No! No! No! No! Come back! Your dad is gonna kill me if you get hurt!" Miguel yelled as he chased the plushie around the building.

The Spider Plush ran into the cafeteria and started throwing food from the other spider people's plates at Miguel. Miguel increasingly got more annoyed as the plushie started to throw more food at him, but all of a sudden a whole plate was thrown at Miguel's head as it shattered to pieces on impact, causing Miguel to stop for a bit.

"OW! You little piece of shit!" Miguel roared as he heard a little laugh coming from Spider Plush.

When Spider plush was done wreaking havoc in the cafeteria, he started running towards the therapy room.

"So what brings you here?" said the spider therapist.

"It- It's about my Uncle" One of the spider people sobbed.

"Agai-"

Spider Plush and Miguel bursted into the room. Spider Plush tried using the spider therapist as a human shield, but failed as Miguel caught him and started to bring him towards the 'go home' Machine.

"I'm done with you, you little piece of shit" Miguel growled, ignoring how Spider Plush kicking at him.

"Margo, prepare the go home machine for spider plush here" Miguel mumbled.

"But won't y/n get mad at you?" Spider byte said worryingly.

"I don't care what y/n will think! This little rodent has put me through hell and back!" Miguel yelled.

"Alright" She said as she started to prepare the go home machine.

Miguel looked on at spider plush as the giant robotic spider came out and was about to send the plush home. Until it stopped.

"Miguel O'Hara!" You screamed.

"Y/n! It- it's not what it looks like!" Miguel said.

Spider Plush saw you and started to make crying noises.

"What did you do to him! You monster! He is supposed to be your son!" You scowled.

"He was causing chaos around the whole building!" Miguel said.

"Spider Plush would do no such thing!" You yelled.

"Y/n! Please! You have to hear me out!" He pleaded.

"I think Spider Plush has been through enough already, I'm going to take him to get a nap" You said as you walked out the room with spider plush hung around your shoulder.

Spider Plush looked up at Miguel and glared at him with mischief in his eyes.

"I'm gonna get back at that little shit head" Miguel grumbled.

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT II: A QUESTION OF MORALITY ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— tara thinks not even a murderer can disturb you, you have no friends and spider-man knows, and your cats like spider-man a little too much.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in this part & some other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— thank you so much for the support on the first part xoxo

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

you shut your book as lecture was concluded, gathering your notebook and notes together and putting them into your bag. your headphones hung around your neck, and in any other day you would’ve put it on and not said a word to anyone, but you were standing next to tara, waiting patiently for her to pack up.

her hands were shaking slightly as she shoved her items into her backpack hurriedly, occasionally dropping pencils. “fuck,” tara muttered under her breath, quickly picking up her dropped pencils and putting them into her bag haphazardly.

“you seem on edge,” you stated dryly, making her huff in frustration. of course, you knew the reason why; there was no need for her to treat you like a therapist and tell you everything.

“that’s one way to put it.” tara sighed as she threw her backpack over her shoulder. she walked alongside you as you made your way towards the exit. “you don’t usually wait for me,” she stated, glancing at you suspiciously, though you were looking ahead of you and not at her.

“i guess this class is finally teaching you something,” you hummed, looking at her from the corner of your eye. she didn’t seem to let it up, still tensed as you sighed, rolling your eyes. “call it a change of heart.” your response didn’t calm her completely, but her shoulders relaxed.

you both passed your professor, who acknowledged your leave with a small, “miss carpenter, miss vaughn,” which you only nodded at. you walked ahead of tara and held the door open for her.

“did you hear about the murders?” tara asked, tilting her head at you as you began to walk. she was probing at you, you knew that, but you knew better than to admit that ‘no, i’m not worried because i steal things to pay rent rather than kill people and i’d rather pay attention to that,’ so you kept it as honest as you could.

“‘course i did. just because i have no friends doesn’t mean i live under a rock, tara,” you teased with a slight smile, making her roll her eyes. she couldn’t even deny it; she of all people knew you kept to yourself. the only time she ever saw you socializing was at parties, flirting with guys and making them believe they were in charge of the situation before you led them upstairs (when you obviously had them wrapped around your finger).

“well, obviously. it’s just.. everyone seems so on edge, and it makes sense!” tara added hurriedly, “i’m not saying it doesn’t! but you look so..”

“so..?” you raised a brow.

“so calm.” tara let out a long sigh, hands holding onto the straps of her backpack. “i don’t know how you do it.”

was she asking you how to stay calm? you blinked, trying to analyze her words in a way you could understand. was she indirectly asking you for advice? “well, this is kind of an atypical situation to stay calm in,” you began, glancing at her, “but i’d say i’m just too spiteful to let anyone other than me influence how i feel. i’m not gonna let some psycho have so much power over me that i can’t live my life, y’know? i've been stressed out enough."

you looked away from tara, only slightly embarrassed at your own words. this was why you had no friends; too much second hand embarrassment. your eyes settled on the pavement ahead of you, tilting your head in interest at the sight of tara’s friend group; her sister, sam, mindy (who you only knew because you had taken a shot with her once) and some other people you didn’t know.

“you give good advice, y/n.” tara said, making you scoff as you raised a hand and waved her compliment away.

“whatever,” you said, managing a small smile her way. turning back to her friends (who were walking closer) you said a quick, “stay safe, tara,” before you walked away, allowing her friend group to walk up to her.

you passed by a brunette boy as you put your headphones on, not bothering to say hello to tara’s group (they were her friends, not yours). but you were too preoccupied with your music to notice that you had passed ethan, who looked back at you as you walked away. he took in your form, how you dressed in strictly black and white clothes yet had a tote bag with a small cat charm on it. he didn’t even get a good look at you, but he found himself watching you walk away.

“dude.” chad nudged his shoulder, breaking him from his stupor. a knowing grin made its way onto his friend's face, one that made ethan’s ears and cheeks burn red.

“don’t say anything.”

“who is she?” chad asked shamelessly loud, ignoring ethan’s groan of embarrassment. his voice broke the conversation the girls were having, making them lean in out of interest.

“literally no one!” ethan exclaimed, silently begging for chad to not make a big deal out of it. he’s been on his ass for ‘not putting himself out there’ and choosing the library life instead. he always told him off for never truly living a life of someone his age.

if only chad knew that ethan had been craving that feeling of living as though he was his age and not some 30 year old man. but after richie’s death and after he basically (almost) cut off his family (not to mention his secret nighttime job as a superhero), he felt as though that was basically impossible. simply put, ethan landry had more important things to focus on rather than worry about living like a college student.

“not really no one,” tara stated, poking her head into the conversation. “that’s y/n vaughn—”

“another side character. see— probably gonna die,” mindy said to her girlfriend, anika, who sighed as she squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“sure, babes.." anika said, "but maybe don’t assume everyone tara talks to is like, cursed or something?”

“i only ever talk to her during my psych class, so don’t worry,” tara huffed, sitting down at a nearby bench. chad wordlessly sat next to her. “i probably haven’t cursed her. besides, she doesn’t seem like the type to be really bothered by that stuff.”

“what does that mean?” ethan asked, sitting next to chad.

“she’s just really straightforward— the nonchalant type, y’know.”

“even more suspicious!” mindy stood up in front of them as though she was ready to give a presentation; which, honestly, she kind of was. a dark look befell her features as she began to talk about the possible suspects, listing off everyone’s name one by one and including one extra; y/n vaughn.

you polished every one of your retractable claws, pulling your lamp over it to allow it to shine brightly. it was razor sharp at this point, as you had been using everything in your power to make them as dangerous to others as possible. your room was boiling hot, and you had opened up the window of your room, silently thankful you had a balcony and not a fire escape. at least then, no psychos could casually climb up to your apartment.

the photo of you and your father was situated on the corner of your table as you worked; you, age only 8, were wearing huge headphones as you sat on your father’s shoulders at a rock concert. it was one of the few photos you had of your dad, and while you didn’t want to think of yourself as a particularly sentimental person, you were probably just in denial. because even as you worked and only saw it in the corner of your eye, you felt that familiar tug of pain in your chest.

if only he knew that you had a deal with an insect themed superhero.

you checked the clock, letting out a sigh upon seeing ‘11:12 am’ flash back at you. you were already 12 minutes late to your meeting with the hero, and you weren't even dressed yet. the sound of paws hitting your table and a soft coo made you turn your head towards one of your cats, a genuine smile gracing your features.

"how did i get into this situation, bitters?" you sighed, holding your hand up and feeling bitters rub his black fur under it, purring loudly. reluctantly, you stood up and began to get dressed, stripping before pulling on your usual black suit and mask. you reached for your gloves on the table and retracted your claws before reaching for the rest of your equipment; your grappling hook, your throwing knives, and your gun. the murderer (or murderers) were clever, you knew that, and they probably spent months or years preparing for their plan.

you never underestimated someone with a drive to kill.

the night was calm, void of any strong and chilly winds. the moon was still as full as ever, hanging over you like a lamp as you made your way out your window and shot your grappling hook up to the nearby building's ledge. pulling yourself up and over to the next roof, you began to run, allowing the adrenaline to flow smoothly through your veins.

your legs helped you jump over the gaps between the buildings as though it was second nature to you; and in a way, it was. you had been stealing ever since your father died, only taking up bigger projects when you were 16. you knew how to slink your way between alleys and roads, how to travel across streets and cops undetected. you weren't a novice.

the building in front of tara and sam's apartment came into view as you neared. you saw the familiar red and blue hero situated on the rooftop, his back to you as you set your feet down on the floor. immediately, he turned around, as though you had made all the sound in the world. only mildly perturbed, you rolled your eyes. "is that one of your little powers? being able to tell when i'm here?"

standing up to look at you, he crossed his arms over his chest. "you're 30 minutes late," spider-man said annoyedly, making you sigh exaggeratedly, walking towards him. one of your gloved hands came to flick his arm as you passed him.

"you're such a sourpuss. i wasn't aware that you were so strict about our meetings." squatting down to avoid detection, you gazed at the apartment building. he was practically radiating warmth, for as he sat next to you, you felt his warmth going off of him in waves. having powers must've made him similar to a furnace. throwing a quick look at him, you managed a smirk and added, "i didn't know you were so desperate to see me."

he scoffed at your words, shaking his head in disbelief. "jesus, not everything is about you, you know," he grumbled, "i needed you here on time so that we could talk about that information you gave me yesterday."

"right," you drawled, "the shit about the stab masks and the roommates. i was gonna ask one of the mafias i've worked with if they knew anything about that." you had told him what had happened after you had called the police to laura crane's body. you had followed the perpetrator after recognizing his backpack, and found him walking into his dorm room (which was at your college, another detail that truly made you think about whether you should just stop going to classes). he was killed right after you had left him, unwilling to call the police for obvious reasons, but you wanted to keep an eye on him. and while it wasn't your m.o, you might have killed him.

but spider-man didn't know that.

"i don't think there's only one killer. and as it's shown in the past, there's almost always two," spider-man said thoughtfully, eyes focused on the window view the both of you had into tara and sam's kitchen. unbeknownst to you, spider-man was also adamant on watching their apartment for another reason; quinn was in there. ethan wanted to keep an eye on his sister and protect her as much as he could, because he knew that being friends with the woodsboro survivors put her in as much danger as them.

you scoffed. "well, that's obvious. being that codependent on someone else has got to make you a sociopathic murderer. placing that much trust on another that you murder together.. that's collateral damage. they're practically bound for failure."

spider-man sent you a look (or as much of a look as he could with his mask covering his entire face). "i bet you have tons of friends with that mindset, kitty."

you rolled your eyes at his words. "thanks, spider, you're such a wonderful person to be around while we stake out this killer," you said dryly, letting out a huff.

"trust me," spider-man chuckled in disbelief, "the fact that i'm stuck with a criminal with more of an attitude problem than anyone i've ever met doesn't exactly make me thrilled."

you let out a joyless laugh. who was he to even talk to you like that? you weren't going to let some baby-man with powers talk about you as though you were nothing. "you can do this shit alone then, spider." you stood up, making him stand up alongside you. an accusatory finger poked at his chest. "if you can't deal with my attitude—"

"i'm surprised anyone can," spider-man seethed, walking closer to you.

you clenched your jaw, fists clenching as you stopped yourself from throwing a punch. "all that stuff about asking the mafia, you—"

spider-man's head turning to his left as he murmured a small, "shut up." his head turned around him frantically, as though he was suddenly searching for something. he felt that familiar chill run through his entire nervous system, and yet he found himself running a blank. nothing was happening; nothing he could see, at least.

"i won't, actually! you can kiss that plan goodbye if you keep being such a fucking—" spider-man grabbed your arm, his hold not tight, but firm enough to cut your words off.

"something is happening right now. and i don't know what it is." he seemed panicked as he spoke, as though everything was running on overdrive. usually he knew exactly what was happening, but he didn't know what this time. he couldn't see anything huge happening around him, but he knew something was going on. something in the apartment.

you looked at the apartment, squinting when you saw tara and her friends laughing over god knows what. turning back to the hero, you swallowed your pride down for once and forced out a, "take me to where you think it's happening."

a beat. he was studying your face, trying to see if you were serious, if you were actually willing to help him despite your interrupted argument. wordlessly, he put his hand around your waist and pulled you to him, throwing a web towards tara and sam's apartment.

a scream left mindy's lips when she ran into the bathroom, finding the body of one of quinn's hook-ups in the tub, stabbed repeatedly with his blood splattered all around him. "oh, fuck, that guy's dead!" mindy cried out, gripping her sliced arm tightly before she turned back to the bathroom entrance, screaming at the sight of the murderer right at the door.

they took a step towards her, knife glinting in their hand before you kicked him in the stomach, kicking him against the wall. your clawed hand came down to scratch his chest, your brows furrowing when your hand met a bulletproof vest rather than skin. the murderer swung his knife at you, only slicing the base of your neck as you quickly dodged. you punched their face and kicked them back further against the wall, using one of your knives to stab their chest, only praying it made it past their bulletproof vest. you then ran into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

"who the fuck are you?!" mindy screamed, taking in your get up and mask, eyes widening in recognition. "you're that criminal—"

"stop talking and get into the room! take this," you put one of your throwing knives in her hand and turned to sam, who was pulling mindy into the bedroom and sending you a confused look. shoving them both into the bathroom, you helped them barricade the door before the killer came close, your back against the door as you kept the dresser against it.

"who is this?!" anika yelled, practically spilling her guts all over the bed.

"maybe don't ask questions while your intestines are threatening to come out!" you yelled, still holding the door shut.

"say something more positive!" anika screamed in response, mindy coming next to her to apply more pressure to her huge wound.

you looked at sam, who was yelling at the neighbor across the alleyway, before she looked up, her face laced with even more confusion. "about time!" she yelled at the hero, who crawled down the wall as he threw a web at the roof's ledge and held onto the other end of it.

"we're gonna get you across!" spider-man said reassuringly, offering a hand out for sam, who immediately took it. he pulled her close as he brought her across and into the other window into the arms of the neighbor before he went to the other window again, peeking in. "oh, hey!" he said lightly, trying not to show his panic.

"hi. can you help?!" mindy asked harshly, helping anika stand up and bringing her to the hero.

"oh, you don't look great!" he shot some webbing into his hand and places anika's hand more into her wound before wrapping her hand and her wound, keeping the pressure. "keep pressing down," he said, carefully putting his arm around her to bring her to the other side. "you doing okay there, kitty?" he asked behind his shoulder at you, making you groan in frustration.

"just fantastic!"

"okay, good!" with that, he swung out the window, anika screaming in her wake. he brought her to the neighbor's window, carefully putting her down before he went back for mindy.

the door behind you suddenly lurched forward, as though the killer had gained twice the strength than they originally had. the sudden strength pushed you far enough away from the door for it to open, the killer quick as they shoved it wider. you hand flew to your gun, ready to shoot despite the vest you knew they were wearing. behind you, mindy was already being brought to the other window, leaving you alone with the killer, who tilted their head at you. they took the knife you had stabbed into them and threw it back at you, making you dodge it quickly, shooting a shot at their leg.

they didn't fall. instead, they swung at you, cutting your side as you moved back. you groaned at the sudden pain, hand coming down to hold it tightly as warm liquid began to seep through your fingers. they managed to cut in the one area that wasn't protected by some of your armor. and while it was only a slice, they cut deep. they were angry; it was evident in their sudden frantic movements. they wanted you dead.

they lunged at you, making you move away from the window and shoot at them again, your shots to their chest doing nothing. "i fucking hate this," you grumbled, putting your gun back into your side before you unsheathed your claws and swung at his dominant arm, scratching it and hearing them groan in pain.

the sound was muffled, but they sounded like a man.

you kicked them, trying to kick them out of the window, only for them to grab the windows edges and lunge at you again, making you move swiftly out of the way and making them hit the dresser harshly.

a thwip sent a web towards their hand, and another sent one to their leg, sticking them there. spider-man swung in next to you, taking in the cut on your neck and the blood dripping from your hand. "you have to get out of here," he stated, grabbing your hand and lifting it to use a web to bandage your wound quickly.

"i'll be fine," you seethed, ignoring the pain, "remove his mask, we need to catch him."

"you're not going to be fine, i'm getting you out of here," his hands came down around your waist despite your protests, your want to remove the killers mask strong as you tried to wriggle your way out. "stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you!" the hero snapped, already throwing a web out the window and pulling the both of you away from the apartment.

he laid you down on the rooftop of the building, giving you a quick once over before he went back to the apartment, leaving you alone. you hated to admit it, but the amount of blood you were losing from both your wounds was making you dizzy.

spider-man landed back inside the apartment, letting out a groan of frustration at the sight of the cut webs and the lack of a killer. turning to the neighbor's apartment, he swung over, landing in their kitchen casually. "help is on the way. in the meantime stay in here," he looked at all of them strewn throughout the apartment, all sporting some type of wound. the eyes of his mask narrowed when he noticed a few people were missing. tara and chad were gone, but most importantly, quinn was gone too. "was anyone left behind?" he asked sam, trying to keep a relatively calm front.

"tara and chad were locked out, and our roommate, quinn.." sam swallowed thickly, her eyes fogged over as she tried not to think too hard about it.

from beneath the mask, ethan's eyes began to blur over with tears out of worry, the lack of response making him want to shake sam and demand answers. demand where his sister is, cry out that they should've done more, that it was him under the mask, that he needed to know if she made it. "did," he exhaled shakily, makiing sam look at him in interest, "did she die?"

"she didn't make it," sam said with a heavy exhale. "ghostface got to her before we could stop them."

ethan's jaw clenched as his eyes began to well up with more tears that he couldn't wipe away. it felt like sensory overload; he could hear anika's labored breathing and mindy's reassurance from the living room, smell the smell of pennies from everyone's blood, feel every fiber of his suit sticking to his skin. he was suddenly aware of how small the apartment felt, how the ceiling seemed to come closer and closer to his head and how the walls seemed too reachable.

he had to get out.

"thank you. and tell your friend thank you too," sam said, breaking his cloud of sadness briefly.

his friend. you were still up there, bleeding all over the roof.

"i have to go. i'm.. i'm sorry about your roommate." he turned to the others in a silent farewell, before turning back to sam. "we'll be doing patrols around your guys' apartment." and with that, he swung out the window and back to you, pulling his mask over half his face to try and regain his breath.

"he was gone, wasn't he?" you asked, your voice monotone as you sat with your hand over your wound. you looked at him, your eyes unreadable as you took in how stressed he looked. he was drinking in air as though he had been drowning, and if you looked closely, you saw tearstains on his cheeks. his head had fallen back and his face was tilted up to the sky, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself. rather than question it, you knew it wasn't your place.

ethan, while he wanted to desperately to cry and scream for the death of his sister, only tried to calm himself. he could feel anger thrumming through his veins, and most of all, he felt that same pain he felt when richie died. as though a part of him had died too.

he realized then that the panic he had felt from his senses was most likely the feeling of his older sister dying in the arms of a killer. he felt her attack.

"he was." the hero answered, taking in one more deep breath and exhaling slowly. he turned to you and moved to help you stand up. instinctively, his arm cam around your waist, allowing you to use him like a crutch. "we have to get you help," he murmured, turning towards the direction of the hospital.

"you and i both know that we can't go to the hospital," you muttered, looking at him. his mask was still pulled over half of his face, leaving the upper half of his face a mystery to you. but you could see the lower half, and you stopped the urge to roll your eyes at your conclusion.

of course, new york's spider-man was a pretty boy.

"fine, then. we're going to your place."

yeah, he was pretty. pretty stupid.

"are you serious?" you managed a laugh that quickly died due to the pain that shot up your chest. "no. why can't we go to your place?"

"because my roommate has a room right next to me and the walls are so thin that he can hear everything i do," he responded dryly, looking down at you. "you don't have to remove your mask. i won't do it either, and.. you can put away any photos you have in your apartment. deal?"

you stared at him, weighing the other options in your head before groaning. "fine," you grumbled in annoyance, "but i better not see you making any friendly visits any time soon. i'm not the hospitable type."

"'m not gonna make any visits, kitty. promise."

spider-man pushed your window open, helping you enter before he closed it shut behind you both. the sound of your two cats, bitters and junie, welcomed you home as per usual, their meows relaxing you as you managed a small smile their way. surprisingly enough, they rubbed themselves on the hero's leg as they made their way towards you.

"very on brand of you to be a cat lady," he hummed, making you send him a look as you reached down to pet them briefly. "am i wrong? you're black cat and you have black cat. and a white one. for all i know you could have more in here."

"do you want to meet my cats or help me stop losing blood?" you asked snarkily, making him turn to you, the eyes of his mask widening.

"oh, right. you're hurt."

"thanks for your concern," you responded dryly, feeling him fix his arm around your waist. "bathroom's down that hall to the left."

your weight seemed like nothing to him as he led you to your bathroom, sitting you down on your closed toilet. he threw open your cupboards, searching for your first aid and finding it. he managed a small triumphant smile as he took it out, closing the cupboard and sitting to your right.

"you know what you're doing, right?" you asked warily, staring at him as he brought out your suture kit. "scandalous," you couldn't help but comment as he pulled his gloves off, making him send you a look.

"stop staring at my hands."

"i'm staring at the needle you're going to stab me repeatedly with, not your hands," you stated, rolling your eyes. "your hands are nice too though, spider." you chuckled at his frustrated sigh, eyes on him as he stood up to wash his hands. "you didn't answer my question."

rushing water filled your ears as he washed his hands diligently. he seemed to be thinking about whether or not he should answer your question, but honestly, you were just trying to make the whole situation less awkward. you couldn't care less whether he had done it before or not; what mattered was that he could suture up your wound.

"i think it was the fifth time i was in a fight?" he began, eyes set on his hands as he dried them off on a nearby towel. "i was still.. new to all of this, i guess. caught this gang ready to beat this poor kid up— he was like, 13 at the most, and they were trying to get back at his older brother. 'course i had to help him." he moved back to your side, sitting down comfortably and taking the suture kit. "i was able to get most of 'em out of the way. but one snuck up on me. my senses made me get out of the way on time, but i got this huge cut on my stomach. another one on my side from his buddy." he carefully cut the webs on your side, looking up at you for permission. "i'm gonna have to cut your suit. may i?"

you nodded quickly. "i have more, just.. keep talking."

"right." he cut the rest of the webbing, including the cloth of your suit, reveling the entirety of your wound. "i spent that night suturing up my own cut with a needle and thread. i can heal pretty quickly but if i were to just bleed everywhere my roommate would notice." he then took a cloth and rubbing alcohol and gently cleaned around your cut. "hurt like a bitch, though."

"well, duh." you watched him pull out all the thread and take the forceps to bring the needle out. he brought it closer to your skin, and you took deep breaths.

"ready?"

"just get it over with." you groaned in pain when the needle entered your skin, the thread pulling through quickly after it. the pain was horrible, but soon enough he was tying the knot and beginning the next one. you were biting down harshly on your lip, trying not to cry out from the pain as you felt the next one enter. your mind was so focused on the needle continuously entering your skin that you didn't even hear spider-man talk to you.

"your apartment is nice," he said softly, only glancing up at you before he focused back on the task at hand. "you must be loaded from all the stealing 'n stuff."

his hands were a bit rough, most likely from training and from superhero duties. but the way he touched you, regardless of how harsh your personality was; it was as though he was scared he'd break you. as though he was watching his strength as he poked the needle through your skin and pulled, careful not to hurt you as much as he already was.

he didn't know why he was being so gentle, why he was watching how he was touching you. maybe he felt guilty for allowing you to be the one to go into the apartment. maybe he wanted to make up for the wounds he felt like he indirectly caused you. ethan didn't know.

"yeah," you forced out through gritted teeth, trying to steady your breathing. he was trying to distract you, trying to keep you talking about whatever he was asking you rather than having you focus solely on the thread moving through your skin.

but unbeknownst to you, ethan was asking you questions not only to distract you, but to distract himself as well. he was still reeling from the death of his sister, but he had compartmentalized it all before he had given himself the chance to fully cope. he hadn't fully cried yet, nor had he given himself time to grieve. he didn't know when he could; it felt like he had no time to grieve for her. "the day we first met, after i caught you—"

"you didn't catch me."

"after i almost caught you while you ran away from the museum," another stab, another stab, another knot. "why did you bring that painting back there? like," his lips twitched downwards, "you didn't even steal anything from the museum, which is weird considering you're a thief and probably a klepto who would love to have a collection of paintings in her really nice apartment—"

"i put it back where it came from." you avoided his gaze as you focused on the bathroom floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "the rich people i stole it from hired some random criminals to steal it first," you explained, "so i just put it back. they don't deserve to keep that piece of art to themselves when the painter made it for everyone to enjoy."

he looked up at you after he finished tying another knot, taking in your features. how you seemed a million miles away despite being right in front of him, and how you had just admitted that one of your crimes had more meaning behind it than just a simple burglary. and you looked.. almost embarrassed to say it. as though you had never admitted it out loud before.

"the people you steal from are usually well off."

you turned your head to look at him, and this time it was his turn to focus on something else. his eyes were set on his stitches. "old money, new money, just people who are incredibly wealthy."

"have you been studying me, spider?" you asked teasingly, making his cheeks (or what you could see of it) burn red.

"no. i mean—" he stammered, groaning when he heard you chuckle softly. "i had to! i mean, i've been trying to keep track of the usual criminals in the city and you were obviously on that list so.. yeah!"

"so you were studying me." you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

"okay! you're done." he put a bandage around the suture to finish it off, throwing away the used needle and thread. he began to clean up quickly, shoving the suture kit into the first aid box. but as his eyes looked back at you, he paused his embarrassed antics. he stared as you stood up, ready to change your clothes, before he stopped you. "wait."

you looked at him in confusion as he took out a bandage and ran a cloth under water. he moved closer to you, and you saw him visibly gulp from where his mask was pulled up. "your neck," he murmured, and you raised a brow, but for once stayed quiet. the warm cloth met the base of your neck, rubbing away the dried blood from the cut that you forget was even there. water dripped down your skin and melted into your suit, but you were too preoccupied with looking at how his tongue poked at his cheek when he was focused.

he wiped away the rest of the blood and used a dry towel to pat it down dry before taking the bandage. his fingernails grazed your skin ever so lightly as he placed the bandage over your cut, his adam's apple bobbing when he saw your eyes set on his face through his peripherals. he could smell your lavender perfume from where he stood, pressing the bandage down into your skin, warming the skin with the heat of his palm. "done," he breathed, eyes looking back at you.

and suddenly, his hands fell at his sides as he focused on cleaning up again.

"what was that?" you couldn't help but ask, but he only shrugged in response.

"don't think about me too much, kitty."

"i should say the same to you," you said blankly, brows furrowing as you watched him clean up as though he hadn't just helped you patch up all your injuries.

you moved past him, making your way into your room and shutting the door behind you. you hid the photo of you and your father under some papers before unzipping your suit and pulling it off of you. the fabric moved over your wound, but you were careful enough that it add onto the pain. you put on a shirt and some shorts before walking out to your living room.

you bit back a comment when you saw the hero sitting criss-crossed on your living room floor with bitters on his lap and your white cat, junie, nudging herself under his hand as she purred. a genuine smile was on his face; he had a habit of pulling his lip under his teeth when he smiled.

"how're you feeling? you asked nonchalantly, making him look up towards you. you felt his eyes on you as you took out two glasses and poured water into both.

"fine, i guess."

"stop lying," you said over your shoulder, taking the two glasses and walking towards him. you held one glass out to him, looking at him pointedly. "i saw you after you went to check on them. something happened."

you were onto him. that was all ethan thought as he took the glass of water from your hand and looked down at your cats. your eyes were practically burning into his head as you waited for him to answer. you thought it was right; you gave him truth, now he should give you some in return. hell, you let him into your home.

taking a deep breath, he calmed down his rapidly beating heart. "i knew one of them, and they didn't make it. that's all." you could see him bite down on his lip as though he was stopping it from quivering, his eyes dead set on your cats despite your eye contact.

you didn't say anything for a minute, letting him relish in the quiet before you began talking again. "we'll find out who attacked them." no 'i'm sorry.' no condolences, because you were someone who hated hearing it from others. especially when your father died; mafia groups sent their condolences, sent their 'i'm sorrys' to the door of your past house as though they hadn't wanted him dead for years. you didn't like hearing it and your didn't like saying it.

the hero nodded, his brows coming down to furrow together. "we will." he stated. you had made a deal with him the night before, but that didn't truly feel like a deal. this one did; it walked a thin line between a deal and a promise.

ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— i know i literally posted yesterday but i'm excited about this series so here! thank you so much for reading xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch

[wrotethisat12]

Old habits

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

request:

Hiya! Is it possible for you to do a y/n x Natasha where y/n sometimes gets teased by her teammates as a joke . The result for that is that she ends up throwing up what they eat this started at a young age aswell so its like a relapse ❣️

can you include Natasha also seeing sh scars and she gets worried but y/n has been clean for a while so they tell her that.

Thank you!

Length: medium?

Tw: pûrg!ng, mentions of past s3lf harm, eat1ng d1sorders, mention of fire (metaphorically), ummm a comment about somebody’s ass at the beginning too.

this can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic, I didn’t specify the relationship. Not proofread.

please if you ever feel like this I have open dms and open arms I’m here for you, please find some help.

“Ooh, you’ve got some ass to grab, L/n!”

You tried to hide your flinch. They don’t know. They didn’t mean it. Calm down. You kept running, ignoring the comment of your teammate, who was sitting on the edge of the field with sweaty hair and a Nalgene water bottle. I am beautiful. I am healthy. I am loved. You repeated the affirmations that your therapist, Miriam, had taught you.

By the time you had finished your laps, most of the burning wildfire in your head from the comment was gone. You sat down next to your teammates and laughed with them, drinking your water.

“Hey.” Natasha, a fiery redhead, had finished her laps and sat down next to you. The two of you had never been close, having just met each other this year, but she seemed pretty nice. You turned towards her.

“Guess I beat you this time,” you said.

“this time.”

when the rest of the team finished running, one of you ordered pizza, and you all ate it next to the field.

nononono don’t- you took a bite of it, eyes nervously glancing around to see if anybody had noticed your struggle.

No one. Good.

after dinner, you took your time in the locker room, making sure that you were the last to leave. Before you left, you went into one of the bathroom stall and, as quietly as you could, rid your body of its dinner.

———

Nat’s pov:

through the rest of the week, Natasha noticed a change in you. You could never finish your laps before her, often ending last, you avoided everybody, and you always left last. She was beyond worried.

one night, she decided to stay late to see what was happening. She stood on the toilet seat of the far right stall, where no one ever went because of an unsavory amount of spiders, and peeked through the crack. She saw you step out of a shower and walk into a stall. Then, after a minute or two, she heard gagging noises.

Oh no. She realized what you were doing and the blood drained from her face. She rushed into your stall, which you had not bothered to close. Powerless to stop you, she kneeled behind you and hers your hair back, a hand on your shaking back.

Your pov:

this had become a routine. Soccer, dinner, food, purge. This Friday, as usual, you had done the regular pattern, and now you were here, bent over the toilet again.

a hand pulled your hair away from your face and then a matching one settled on your back. Who the fu- when you were done, you pulled your head away from the toilet shakily.

a pair of green eyes looked at you, forehead tight-knit with worry. Natasha grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped off your mouth. After that, you leaned against the side of the stall. Natasha did the same, wrapping her arm around your body, which was still shaking.

“so… you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Natasha asked.

“I… I did this a lot, back in middle school and high school. But my parents found out when I was fifteen, and they made me go to therapy. I got better. But now…”

“so… what happened?”

“Carol and Maria… you know how they kind of hit on everyone on the team?”

Natasha nodded.

“so…” your cheeks heated up from embarrassment and shame. “They made a comment about… me having more butt than I used to…” tears started to slip from your eyes, and you expected Natasha to walk away.

surprisingly, she did no such thing. She pulled you into her chest, where you sobbed unapologetically.

When you were done, you sat up straight again.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” Natasha told you, “and you’re gonna stay with me the whole time after, okay?”

you nodded and stood up to wash your hands and rinse out your mouth. When you reached the sink, you rolled up your sleeves.

you heard a gasp from Natasha. She ran over to you and made you sit down on a bench by the lockers.

“are these new?!” She asked, gently holding your forearms in her soft hands. “Please, are you cutting yourself?” Her hands were shaking, as well as her voice.

“Don’t worry, Nat. I’m not cutting, I’ve been clean for two years now.” You hugged her.

“Okay… thank god… and I’m proud of you. For two years. My sister had a struggle with self harm, and… it was really bad, to see her like that.”

“I understand… I promise, Nat, I’ll try to get better.”

you washed your hands, picked a restaurant, and drove off in Natty’s car.

[wheredafandomat]

Shrink | P2 - Arms for days

Avenger! Loki x Therapist! reader

18+ | probably bad language, mentions of sex etc - pretty much the same warnings in each part

Previous Next

“So, Loki, how has your week been?” You asked politely after welcoming him inside. As usual, he sat down, poured himself a glass of water and slouched a little in his chair as his gaze wandered around the room before settling onto you.

“Decent” he shrugged “same old routine.”

“Have you—” you questioned, hoping he knew that you were alluding to having sex.

“No.” He exhaled.

“Okay” you nodded “any particular reason?”

“Well for starters” he began looking at the floor, eyes clearly following something before he tossed his water out into the small plant pot next to him and knelt on the floor, placing the glass over a spider “I just haven’t found anyone that���sorry do you have a piece of paper?” He asked, glancing up at you. Taken aback a little, you handed him the paper, watching as he slipped it underneath the glass and lifted the spider before walking towards the window where he released it. “I wonder how that got in here?” He smiled to himself as you recalled your previous conversation with Natasha. Clearing your throat, you rid yourself of the thought as Loki sat back down. “I haven’t found anyone to be intimate with yet.”

“S—so what about online dating?” You queried.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He chuckled.

“Or maybe your brother could set you up with someone.” You suggested.

“I just—shh, did you hear that?”

“No, wha—” you started before Loki dived towards you, knocking your chair backwards as he settled above you on the floor, shielding you as something shot through the window. “Loki, what's going on?” You shrieked, glass hitting the floor from the broken window as Loki remained silent, eyes wide.

“I think you’ve just been shot at.” He eventually spoke as silence settled between you. Breathing heavy, you looked up at him with a mortified expression as he began to stand up. “Stay down here, I’m going to check to see if the coast is clear.”

“Loki be careful!” You warned.

Lifting himself up, he looked outside, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Stepping away from the window, he picked up the bullet that was on the floor, inspecting it.

“I’ll have this traced back to the shooter, in the meantime I think it’s safer for you to stay at the compound in case someone is targeting you.” He proposed, kneeling to your level.

“Why would someone want to target me?” You spoke just above a whisper, mostly shocked and a little frightened.

“You’ve counseled many important people over the years including half of SHIELD, if I wanted to take the organisation down, you’re someone I’d definitely torture answers out of.” He explained, an unfamiliar glint in his eye that strangely stirred something in you. “There’s nowhere safer for you than at the compound and I’ll make it my mission to ensure your protection Doctor y/l/n” he smiled “and who knows, maybe I’m mistaken.”

After completing the necessary paperwork granting you leave from work pending further investigation, you and Loki made your ways to the compound. Luckily for you, it wasn’t your first time there so you weren’t nervous however Loki practically shielding you with every step you took did make you nervous and not in a fearful way. Unfortunately for you, Natasha was on a mission so you weren’t able to just bunk with her.

“There’s a guest bedroom at the end of my hall, I’ll walk you to it.” Loki spoke, leading you to the elevator.

He pointed out his room as you passed it before you reached the guest bedroom. He showed you inside before leaving you alone to process what had actually just transpired the past few hours.

After a while, you decided to make your way to Natasha’s room which was still where you remembered it and grabbed a couple of things to wear. On your way back to your own room, you knocked on Loki's door. He quickly answered, leaning against it as he looked at you.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” You simpered.

“For what?”

“Saving my life.”

“Y/n” Loki began, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he looked into your eyes “I couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening you to, I’m glad I was there, there’s no need to thank me.” He insisted, dropping his hand as your gazes remained fixed on one another’s.

“Well I-I better go.” You broke the silence, stuttering as you tried to look away.

“Of course, goodnight.” Loki bid kindly leaving you wondering where the hostile Loki everyone kept speaking about was.

“Night.”

“What the fuck was that?” You huffed to yourself, closing the door behind you once you reached the bedroom again.

The following day, Loki excitedly approached Thor in the common room after returning from his walk.

“Thor, I believe I have found the one.” Loki grinned.

“The one for what?” Thor questioned.

“To do the sex with.” He almost exploded with excitement.

“Right, sex, relations, the deed.” Thor listed uncomfortably.

“Would you like to meet her?” Loki offered. Before Thor could answer, Loki called her inside. “Ethel” to which he received no reply. “Oh Ethelll” he sang this time to no avail “ETHEL!” He hollered before an elderly lady trudged in. Thor’s smile fell as he looked between the two.

“Um-Loki, can I have a word?” Thor asked.

“Sure.”

“In private?”

“She can’t really hear anyways, you can speak freely here.” Loki dismissed.

“Loki—she”

“Is a stunner right.” Loki interrupted.

“Where did you meet her?”

“She had fallen down outside and as I helped her up, she said I had big strong arms and you know I don’t really get told that often, usually it’s you who—”

“Get on with it.”

“Well one thing led to another and now she is my mate.” Loki chirped as Bucky entered the room, looking for something.

“You haven’t.” Thor almost gasped.

“Not yet.”

“Look Loki, why don’t I set you up with one of Jane’s friends?” Thor offered. Turning to look at Ethel, Loki’s smile fell when he watched her touching Bucky’s arms.

“You have such big strong arms.” She complimented causing Bucky to smile as Loki narrowed his gaze, turning back to Thor.

“Alright.”

Ethel was a player 🥺🤣

Next

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510

[fandomnerd9602]

Wolf Spider pt. 2 (set during Scream VI)

Sam Carpenter x Spider Man!Reader

For @deafeningsharkslimeempath

Halloween time had come at last. And yet all was not calm for the Carpenter sisters and you, their friendly neighborhood Wolf Spider. The city was filled with masks and people in costumes. You knew all too well that anyone could wear a Ghostface mask, slash, and blend back into the crowd.

Trouble arrived the night before All Hallow's Eve. A murder of a film school student and his roommate. You snuck into the crime scene, Detective Bailey greeting you politely.

"Normally I wouldn't work with vigilantes" He intones.

"Well we're not under normal circumstances." you answer back. "knife?"

"Matches the slashes we found on that film studies teacher" Bailey answers back. His face goes ghostly pale.

"Ghostface"

"We don't know that yet!"

"Need more proof?" you head to the nearby ledge and swing out into the open air. You knew what it meant for your beloved girlfriend Sam and her sister Tara.

Your ear bud rings with the sound of your cell phone. A glance down to your phone reveals the caller id of Sam herself. Speak of the succubus herself.

"Hey honey" you answer the call. "How was your day?"

"My therapist was a total dick" she huffs.

You keep up the conversation while webswinging through the New York skyline, "Sweetheart, if i know a thing or two about blood, it's that you define you."

"But what about that incident with Richie?"

"I know several heroes who kill bad guys, it's only if you went after some innocent person that I'd get worried"

"Are you swinging?"

"M-Maybe"

"What have I told you about texting while swinging?"

"Well I'm not texting-" WHOOSH! A semi zooms right past you as you course correct your swing. "and that's why I love you so much, Sammie"

"Can you check on Tara for me?"

"Send me the party coordinates" you sigh as you swing toward NYU.

You found Tara drunk and being flirted with an obvious predator.

"Hey the lady and I were heading upstairs" the drunk college student continued pulling on Tara's arm. "Nice costume by the way"

"Sorry pal, you're heading downstairs" you sock the drunk predator straight in the jaw, knocking him clean out.

"I can handle myself, Y/N!" Tara intones before storming out of the party. "You're as bad as Sam sometimes!"

You quickly give chase. And so does Chad and Ethan. You charge after Tara and scoop her up before swinging off into the night.

"Where'd they go, dude?" Ethan asks your confused friend Chad.

"Put me down!" Tara drunkenly orders you.

"Well if you insist" you drop her from the height of your swing. Tara screams on the way down before you swing and scoop her up again.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Drinking's bad for your health and your grades, Carpenter" you offer a smirking smile under your mask. You come and set her down on top of the apartment's roof.

"Why can't you or Sam just allow me to make my own decisions?" Tara huffs.

"When you can start making the right ones." you huff back. "I don't mean to scare you but I can't let you wander the streets alone anymore."

"Why not?"

"Three murders recently." you remove your mask, "I think it might be-"

"Ghostface." Tara immediately sobers up before hugging you tight. "Thank you"

"You're like a sis to me, kid, I won't let anyone hurt you"

"What are we gonna tell Sam?"

"I don't know" you sigh, "could you tell her? I'm still on the hook for the whole texting and swinging incident"

Ghostface was loose in the Big Apple. You already knew who the targets were. Luckily, they had a Wolf Spider to back them up.

To Be Continued...

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Solitary Man: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: You're feeling more like yourself for the first time in forever. You're not going to let anything spoil your good mood.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"We're all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life." - Tennessee Williams

You feel good. For the first time since you got released from prison, you feel like the weight of the world isn't lying on your shoulders. You're still required to go to therapy until she deems you fit to be on your own but you're not dreading going to her anymore. You actually look forward to it. You feel safe in her office and feel like you can talk about anything without judgment. You trust Spencer with everything you're telling your therapist, but he's strictly Team Y/N and will side with you on anything. You need your therapist's unbiased opinion and advice.

You're sitting at your desk staring at your open notebook wondering what to write. You've rewritten every single nightmare you have besides the rape. You don't know what you can write that will make what happened better.

Spencer walks into the bullpen and sees you tapping the end of your pen on your notebook. He walks behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him with a smile as he runs his fingers through your hair.

"Are you okay?"

"Doing better now."

"Why is that?"

"You."

Spencer leans down and kisses you Spider-Man style, one of your favorite positions.

"Come on, we have a case."

You leave your notebook at your desk before following Spencer to the briefing room where everyone else is. There is already a picture of the most recent victim and her crime scene.

"Her name was Tanya Hill. She was twenty-nine and a bartender. She was found two days ago in Edgewood, New Mexico. She's the fifth woman in over six months to be found dead in a ditch off the I-40 and I-25," JJ explains. "All were manually strangled and none were sexually assaulted."

"Well, maybe the act of strangulation is what gets him off."

"Where were they abducted from?" Emily asks.

"All over."

"Well, they're not just crossing state lines. These cities are hundreds of miles apart," Derek says. "That's a lot of bodies. Why is it taking so long to be invited?"

"We haven't been invited. We found this on the HSK database," Hotch says.

The HSK is the Highway Serial Killer database. With someone crossing state lines like this, they don't belong to one county or jurisdiction, therefore, landing themselves on the HSK database.

"Well, a lot of police departments won't want this problem," Derek says.

"The geographic profile shows that only one of them has it. They just don't know it yet."

"How do you know that?" Rossi asks Spencer.

"Because he has a comfort zone based on the direction he was heading when he dumped the bodies. All five cases point to our unsub heading to Edgewood."

"Now so are we."

You make sure to pack your notebook in your go-bag before heading to the jet with the rest of the team.

"Clearly this unsub doesn't care about his victims being found," Derek says once the plane is in the air, "or he knows he can't be linked to them."

"The ME report supports that first theory. Matching DNA was found on all five victims but not in any database. It's also in keeping with the victimology and abduction sites."

"Which is what?" Emily asks your boyfriend.

"Target rich and offender-friendly."

"The time of death from the time of abduction varies dramatically in each case. Some lived twelve hours, others twenty-four before they were killed."

"What's he doing with them?" JJ asks.

"He's not having sex with them. There are no signs of torture or even restraints. What was the matching DNA?"

"Skin," Emily answers Derek. "That and metal shavings were found under the fingernails of all five victims. Tanya only had one nail left. It looked like whatever she was in, she tried to claw her way out."

"JJ, have Garcia match victimology and abduction sites to HSK findings for the last year," Hotch says and she nods. "If he sticks to this timeline, Edgewood is about to discover another body."

As soon as the plane lands, you, Rossi, and Spencer go to Tanya's dump site, Hotch and Emily go to the ME's office, and the rest go to the police station to get set up. The cars whiz by you on the highway and you admire the way they are going about their lives without a single inclination that there is a dead body here. Sometimes, you wish you could be them.

"So, she was abducted thirty-two-point-nine miles west of here, which means if they drove the speed limit, they got here in thirty minutes or less," Spencer says.

"So, how long's it gonna take either of you to get in that ditch?" Rossi asks.

"Get in that ditch? I got shot in the knee, remember? My doctor said I'm not allowed to do any climbing."

"It's a ditch."

"New boots, huh? Italian leather?"

"I'll do it," you roll your eyes playfully. 

You carefully slide down the hill before reaching the place where the body was found. She's not there anymore but you can see the remnants of her using the energy she left behind. She is lying in the fetal position, hiding from anyone who passes by her.

"From here I can be seen by any passing vehicle," Rossi says.

"I can't. She was dumped at night so he wouldn't be seen by anyone."

"He drives up, dumps the body, and leaves. Job done," Rossi says.

"I don't think so," you shake your head.

"Why?"

You kneel down next to the woman and study her features. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was sleeping.

"All five victims were found posed in the fetal position with their right arm palm-up and left arm palm-down. It's almost child-like and comforting like what a parent would do for their child."

"Do you have any ideas why he'd stage them this way?"

"No." Rossi nods and walks away, leaving you alone with Spencer. He starts to move down the hill to help you back up but you put a hand up to stop him. "Don't you dare. I got this." When you get closer to the top, you take Spencer's hand so he can help you the rest of the day. "I'm going to rub mud all over his shoes later."

As you're walking back to the car, your phone rings. Spencer rubs your arm before continuing, leaving you alone to take the call. You smile when you see your dad's name and picture.

"Hey, Dad!"

"Hey, sweetheart. I have some time, I figured I could come down to you and hang out. I'm sorry I haven't been available since you got released. I have been super busy with work and the kids."

"I'd like that but I'm in New Mexico right now on a case."

"You're still with the FBI? They let you come back?"

You don't know why but that question makes your skin crawl.

"Yeah. I'm innocent. They saw that." Your dad doesn't answer to that. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," he grits out. "Again, sorry, I'm under a lot of stress."

"Yeah, I get it. Look, if you're still available, I'd love to hang with you once I'm back in Virginia. I can bring some of my friends so you can meet them."

"Your FBI friends?"

"Dad, stop it. You'll love them. JJ is like my best friend, and Penelope is super quirky and fun. Emily is a bit intense but you'll come to like her."

"Great! Can't wait! I'll bring your mother. I'm sure she'd love to meet them, too."

It's like as soon as you mentioned they are girls, his mood brightened. He doesn't like Derek and Spencer but you're not sure why. You say your goodbyes and walk to Spencer and Rossi who are already in the car. You don't mention this to Spencer knowing it will only upset him.

Hotch called Rossi to explain to him what he and Emily found at the ME's office. Yes, to be considered a serial killer, there has to be more than one body but if you look at a slightly larger area than just Edgewood, there are five bodies--all strangled, all staged, and all dumped. The fact that all bodies seem to be heading toward Edgewood, Hotch thinks that this place has to mean something to him like he grew up here or he lives here now.

Not only did Tanya have evidence found by DNA and metal fragments under her fingernails, but she also had diesel fuel on her clothing. Now, that's not unusual since she was found on a highway, and a lot of semis drive by it. However, all of the victims had table sugar rubbed on their clothing. Table sugar, well-known by truck drivers, is used to absorb diesel fuel.

That's how he's transporting them.

You know another murder is coming but didn't know it'd come so close after arriving in New Mexico. Not only is there another murder but a witness was left behind. You and Derek break away from the main group to investigate it with Sheriff Frank Sanders. He struck in the middle of the night at a rest stop that's now crawling with police.

"Garcia says there are seven hundred and eighty-two truckers working and living in this county," Derek says.

"That's too many. We have to narrow down the specific routes."

The sheriff leaves the witness' side and walks over to you and Derek. The witness left behind was the daughter of the woman who was kidnapped.

"The daughter, Courtney, confirmed that he was definitely driving a big rig. She wasn't able to make out any logos or see the plate."

"I'd like to talk to her," you say. You're about to follow the Sheriff when you look into the treeline to your right. There is a woman standing there but she isn't alive. "Derek, this is a dump site. The mom was an opportunity kidnapping. Check the woods. There's a body out there."

Derek doesn't have to question you and calls forth some officers to help him with the sheriff. You walk over to the daughter who is sitting on a picnic bench with an officer. He leaves to give you two some privacy and you sit next to her.

"Hi. My name is Agent Y/N. I'm with the FBI and we're going to do everything we can to help bring your mom back. Now, can you tell me anything about the semi you saw? Any distinguishing marks?"

"I wasn't looking. I was texting. I heard a truck start. When I went to the bathroom, she was gone. How are you gonna find her?"

"There's a good chance he's gonna stay in Edgewood."

"Why wouldn't he just run?"

"Because he always comes back to Edgewood. Your mother is the first woman he's taken from here."

"We were just driving through. We live in Phoenix. Mom was just trying to get me home so I could go to tryouts. You have to find her. She's all I have," Courtney cries.

"You should come down to the station." your phone rings and it's Derek. "Excuse me." You step off to the side and answer it. "Hey, where are you?"

"You were right. There is a body. Go south into the woods. You need to see this."

You excuse yourself from Courtney and walk over to the spot where the sheriff and Derek are. You look down and see the woman you saw standing by the tree line. You kneel next to her and put your hands out, not touching the body. You close your eyes and allow her energy to paint a picture of her final moments. She's inside a metal room. She's terrified. She claws at the walls but she can't get out.

"She was trapped inside a metal room. I don't know if the walls are made of metal or if there was some kind of aluminum shield like what you'd use to keep heat out." You look down and see what's underneath her fingernails. "She has metal shavings underneath her fingernails. He comes here to dump her body and stumbles upon Nancy. He didn't wait a minute between victims, and he left her daughter as a witness."

"What's going on here?" Sheriff Sanders asks.

"That's what we need to find out."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[melloeyed]

Double Trouble (Pt. 3)

Johnathan Ohnn (The Spot) X GN Reader

“You’re so reckless!”

“And you’re a geek!”

“Oh, now your bringing up the name-calling? Real mature!”

“What part of ‘less talking, more fighting’ didn’t you understand?!”

“I don’t think sidekicks are supposed to give out orders, Y/N.”

“Johnathan, I never agreed to being the god damn sidekick!”

“Yes you did! You said so last month!”

“I said, ‘perhaps’! That doesn’t mean yes!”

“Well, you should’ve been more specific!”

“And you should’ve been less talkative when we were with Spider-Man!”

“And you should’ve been less brash when we were fighting him!”

Y/N and Spot huffed as they dangled in the air, still trapped in the spider web and portals. Y/N still struggles against the sticky web, wiggling frantically to loosen the robes, but still no avail. Spot sighs and looks back at them. “Can you stop that? Your wiggling is clearly not working.” He sighs. Y/N growls in defeat as they stop. “Oh my God, this sucks! We’ve been up here for 5 hours!” They shouted.

“We’ve been up here for 2 minutes.” Spot said, blankly.

“Whatever!”

A long silence passes by as the defeated duo stood there, tied up in their frustrations and spider webs. Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. First, a humiliating attempt of robbing a freaking ATM. Then, Spider-Man being an arrogant ass while The Spot attempts to battle him in the fist weakest way possible, and now this?! Being tied up in these damn spider webs and trapped by the Spot’s own portals?!

Y/N swore they could never more livid. They were just about to try wiggling again, but they remembered what Spot said a few minutes ago. They huff in disbelief as they turn their head towards him. “Are you seriously giving up right now?” They asked, “We’re quitting just like that?!”

“Of course not!” Spot groaned, “I’m trying to think and I can’t do that with you yelling!”

“I’m just mad, okay?! You know how I get when I’m angry!” Y/N shouted.

“Look, I’m just as mad as you are, but I’m not over here throwing a tantrum, now am I?”

“That’s because you’re smart, Johnathan!”

“What the hell does that-…just calm down, okay?”

“Hmph!”

Spot sighs in content after Y/N calms down and remains still. He glances at them before turning his head back around, continuing to focus. He certainly wish his plan should’ve at least worked a bit, but like he promised, he’s not quitting.

As Spot pieces together a plan, his thoughts are interrupted when he hears Y/N exhale softly through their nose. He turns around, preparing to scold them once again, but then hesitates. Y/N’s head was down and tilted sideways with their shoulders dropped low. Spot couldn’t see their face, but he could definitely tell that their eyes were softly shut with their eyebrows creased. It didn’t take a genius for Spot to know that something was on their mind.

It made his heart ache.

“What’s wrong?” Spot asked, calmly.

“I just-!” Y/N began angrily, but then they instantly stop themself, calming down. They take a deep breath.

“I’m just angry.” They said more calmly, “I already told you that.”

“No, no, no, no.” Spot began, “I know you’re angry. But I know how you get when you’re this angry. So come on, tell me.”

Y/N stutters, trying to find an excuse for not tell him, but instantly sighs in defeat. They blink a couple of times in a nervous manner.

“It’s just…” They sighed, “The plan didn’t work at all. We tried so hard, but…it just didn’t work.”

“So what if it didn’t? We’re not quitting are we?” Spot replied. “No!” Y/N replied softly. They wiggled their shoulders in discomfort as they look down sheepishly. Spot looks back at them in confusion. “I have a feeling that’s not the reason why your really mad.” He said, skeptically. Y/N sighed in annoyance. “You’re a scientist, Johnny. Not my therapist.” They groaned. “No, but I am your partner. So just tell me.” He replied.

Y/N sighs rolling their tied shoulders in preparation as they clear their throat, staring blankly at the sky.

“It was the way Spider-Man was acting towards us.” They said.

Spot looks at the side of Y/N’s face as they turned their head to him. He could see the hurt in their eyes as they glanced at him. With the amount of time that the duo have known each other, it was nothing new for Spot to see Y/N like this.

True, it was blatantly obvious that Y/N had a chaotic personality with a fond taste for violence. But the real thing about them is they were very emotional. That was one of the many things that he liked about them. Even though Spot had no problems talking to them about their feelings, Y/N disliked every second of it.

But, even though they didn’t like it…

Y/N would always respect Spot’s wishes.

“Please continue.” Spot said. “It’s the way that he was ignoring us while we were clearly trying to fight him.” Y/N replied, “He barely looked at us and…do I have to keep saying this?”

“Yes.” Spot replied, “Like I said, I’m concerned for your well-being and you’re my sidekick! Am I not allowed to look out for your feelings?”

“Look. I appreciate you looking out for me, but can we at least talk about this later?” Y/N asked.

“Y/N…” Spot warned.

Y/N’s dots began to shift across their body as a faint blush grew on their pale cheeks. They began to have a feeling that this was practically one of the worst days of their lives. They tried their best not to make the dots on their body glow, so they won’t harm Spot. This day was probably more worse than the incident that happened a year ago.

But we can’t be too sure about that.

“Alright…fine.” Y/N sighed. “…I really hate Spider-Man for how he treated us back there. They way he…he clearly didn’t care about what we could do to him! The way he reacted to how our skin looked! But that’s not what’s important…”

Spot looks at them in sympathy and curiosity after their statement. Before he could say anything, Y/N looks back at him. “Look, I’m sorry about how I acted back there.” They said. “I should’ve stayed put and followed your lead.”

“It’s alright-“

“No, seriously! I feel like an ass for punching you in the face back there. I swear I’m gonna kill Spider-Man for that…”

Spot sighed and then chuckled. “Y’know, for someone who loves chaos, I can’t help but admire how emotional you can be sometimes.” He said.

“Johnny, I’m serious. He was going to hurt you and I just…” Y/N trailed off.

Spot faces back forward and slightly drops his shoulders. And awkward silence fills the air as he quietly clears his throat. “Well, you were only doing your job. As a sidekick, that is.” He began. Y/N remains silent. Spot sighs in embarrassment. His first idea was to cheer his friend and sidekick up with words of atonement! But sadly, it didn’t work. “Plus, our powers are pretty much sloppy and unstable, you know?” He pressed on. Y/N still remains silent.

“And this is only our first time acting on our lives of crime! The beginning of our villainy! A-And our first time isn’t always gonna be our best time…right?” Spot quoted.

Y/N turns their head towards him. Spot turns his head to them.

“I guess…” They said, sadly.

Spot could feel the guilt building in his chest as he stared at Y/N’s guilt-ridden dot eyes. Random thoughts run through his head as he comes to a sudden realization. As reckless and hysterical Y/N was, they had a good point about fighting Spider-Man. If he wasn’t so busy talking to Spider-Man and focused on fighting, he would’ve landed a few good blows on him and somewhat succeeded.

Y/N felt the same guilt when they glanced at Spot’s face. Even if his face was completely blank, they could definitely tell that he had a ashamed look on his face. Y/N finally realized. As over-reckoning and meek Spot was, he had a good point about talking to Spider-Man. If Y/N wasn’t so busy trying to fight Spider-Man, they would’ve helped Spot finish his speech to Spider-Man and somewhat succeeded.

Spot and Y/N quickly turn their heads away from each other in embarrassment. They both blush in shame as the realization of their own actions caught up with them.

They were both in the wrong. And they felt bad for that.

“I’m sorry.” Spot and Y/N said at the same time.

They both flinch in shock and look at other again.

“You are? For what?!” They both said at the same time again.

Apologetic babbling overlapped as the two both tried to explain their reasoning, until Spot finally spoke up, breaking the noise.

“You were right about the fighting back there! If I would’ve stopped talking, we would’ve beat him! This is my fault!” Spot exclaimed.

“No, no, no, no. You were the one who was right! If I wasn’t so impatient and angry, we would’ve talked some sense into Spider-Man and won sooner! So, it’s my fault!” Y/N exclaimed.

“None of this would’ve ever happened if I teleported the cashier away like you said! So, it’s my fault!”

“Hey, I’m the one who apologized first! Plus, I literally socked you in the face with my signature Polka-Dot Punch attack and messed things up when you had everything under control! So, it’s my fault!”

“No, this is all my fault!”

“No, this is my fault!”

“No, it’s my fault!”

“No, it’s my fault!”

“No, it’s my fault!”

“No, it’s my fault!”

Here the two were, once again. Bickering back and forth about the dumbest things, like the two silly dorks they were. Insisting to take the blame for their goofy little acts of crime and their common slip ups. After the longest minute of their life, their quotes of insistence of taking the blame for the failed mission slowly turned into…

…the two aggressively complimenting each other.

Trying to convince one another to not take the blame, they both try to spoil each other with the sweetest sayings in the most aggressive way, until one finally breaks and let’s the other take the fault. Now, isn’t that just cute!

“You’re so strong and fearless!” Spot spat, aggressively.

“And you’re so wise and cute!” Y/N spat back, angrily.

“Oh, look at you just complimenting me and all that! Real sweet!”

“What part of ‘you’re so damn precious’ didn’t you understand?!”

“I don’t think angels are supposed to give out compliments, Y/N.”

“Johnathan, I never expected such a handsome angel like you to be partners with me! I don’t deserve you!”

“Yes you do! You deserve the entire universe!”

“I said you’re the angel! That doesn’t mean you should be with me! You deserve more than the universe.”

“Well, you are so effortlessly perfect!”

“And your so effortlessly amazing!”

“I swear to God I love you so much!”

“I love you more, damnit!”

“I love so goddamn much, Y/N!”

“I fucking love you too, Johnny!”

How romantic.

After running out of compliments, the duo sit there in silence once again, out of breath after all the shouting that they’ve done. At this rate, they had nothing else to do or say other than think. They recollected themselves in their minds, while recalling everything they’ve been through today.

They went to a convenient store wearing the most dumbest disguises possible and failed to rob an ATM. Then, Spider-Man shows up and battles them while basically disrespecting the two by being too busy looking at his phone. End up getting trapped in a gainer artificial spider web acquainted with Spot’s portals. And then 2 minutes later, Y/N and him instantly argue about whose fault it is, talk about their feelings, argue once again about taking the blame, and then aggressively comment about how much they love each other.

After a long silence, Spot and Y/N begin to laugh. As frustrating as this day has been, they could both at least admit that it was a bit funny.

After all, nothing seemed to be so bad as long as they had each other around. Y/N stops laughing along with Spot.

“My God,” Y/N laughed, “Did we really just go through that?”

“Yeah. I had no clue that our day would end up like this.” Spot said, giggling at the end. “But still, we’re not quitting, are we?” Y/N cautiously asked.

“No. We’re not.” Spot replied, softly.

Although it wasn’t visible, Y/N smiled gently with Spot following suit. “I guess this wasn’t so bad after all.” Y/N said. “I mean, we’re just trapped in a stupid spider web for only 8 hours, so no biggie!”

“It’s been 4 minutes, Y/N.”

“Oh.”

Spot and Y/N look around themselves, trying to find a way to break free of the sticky webs. “So are you ready to try again?” Spot asked. “Yep! Ready when you are!” Y/N replied, enthusiastically. Spot smiles fondly at them, as he pieces together a plan.

“So how do we get out of here?” Y/N asked, looking towards him. He hums under his breath as he looks at Y/N and his left hands, tied up together in one portal. He then realizes that their left hands are pointing towards the center of the web where their upper bodies were tied up together. And idea comes to his head.

“Ok, Y/N. Can you try to summon some dots on your left hand to burn the webs around us?” He asked. “Where’s our left hands?” They asked. Spot gestures his head to Y/N’s right. “On your right!” He said. Y/N looks and prepares their left hand, pointing out their index finger.

The multicolored dots on Y/N left hand began to shift and glow brighter every second. The dots gather towards the end of their index finger like the blobs of a glowing lava lamp.

Glowing brighter than ever, Y/N prepares to fire, only to hesitate. “Johnathan, this might sting a little.” They said, cautiously. “It’s alright,” He replied, “Just do it.”

Y/N nods before shooting out a thin glowing ray of rainbow dots out of their finger. The frenzy mixture of colors touch the nearest web, making an innocent popping sound as the ropes begin to melt like butter spreading across the web.

The duo are finally set free the webs tied to their upper bodies melt off. Spot slightly hisses in pain as the hot liquid sticks to his upper arm. Pulling their arms out of the small portals, Spot closes them as the duo fall through the largest portal in the center, crashing on the ground.

“We did it!” Y/N cheered. “Hey, Johnny are you alright?”

Spot sits up and gives a thumbs up. “Yeah, I’m alright! Good work, Y/N.” He said.

He quickly stands up and helps Y/N up. After standing up, the duo hold hands as they look at each other and nod.

“So,” Y/N asked, “What happens now?”

“We’ll try to rob another ATM machine.” Spot answered.

“And this time, we try to do it right.”

@moanutt

[arachnoia]

finally ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x fem! reader (nsfw!)

a/n: this is an odd series but um. yeah I don’t know. but nevertheless thank you so much for the support of this little series! it means a lot !

pls pls gimmie requests! ya girl is dying from writer’s block and I neeeeed ideassss pleaseee

warnings- nsfw, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, untranslated spanish, a lil bit of angst, third and final part to gone and holy shock! (idk how to make warnings 😭)

- 1: gone -2: holy shock

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“What the hell? He doesn’t mean it, according to you?”

Peter probably tried to make you feel better with that. But he didn’t. He didn’t mean it? Was it a prank? Because it’s a shitty ass prank if it was.

“Yup! Just talk to him about it!!” Peter said enthusiastically.

“But if he didn’t mean it?”

“Miguel’s all bark-“

“No, he isn’t!” you said, your voice cracking immensely. You started to cry a little bit more. “He hurt me with that, Peter.”

Peter’s gaze softened as he gave you another hug to your sobbing figure.

“He hurt me so so bad with that. Notes are usually supposed to be small and have a small affect on a person. Usually it’s positive but goddamn.”

“It’s okay, kid.” He said, rubbing your back.

You sniffled and stood up from where you were sitting. The sky was already starting to turn into an indigo color and that was your sign to go home.

And cry, of course.

“Peter, I think it’s best if I go back home…”

“Okay, here, hold the baby,” He said as he held out Mayday in front of you, giving you a dopey smile.

You smiled slightly, “What?”

“It’ll make you feel better. This kid’s got some superpowers, man.”

You held Mayday and smiled at the redhead child. “She’s as beautiful as MJ.”

You gave Mayday a hug and gave her back to Peter.

“See ya tomorrow, kid. Talk to him, okay?” Peter said, giving you a stern look.

“Okay. Bye, Peter. Thank you,” you said, waving goodbye and opening an opening to your universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Yeah okay, he’s totally way outta line!”

Peter decided to tell MJ what happened. He didn’t know how to exactly help you so he decided to ask MJ.

MJ fumed because she met you a few times and you had her full respect. She didn’t care that Peter was friends with Miguel, she was pissed.

He’s not good at being a friendship therapist.

“I told her to just talk to him. I’m not sure I did the right thing though,” Peter frowned and glanced over at Mayday who was sleeping peacefully, snuggling with her Spider-man plush.

“I think you did the right thing. I mean aren’t they dating?”

Peter jerked his head towards MJ and widened his eyes. “Wait what?”

She nodded, “Peter, it sounds like Y/n and Miguel are having trouble in paradise.”

“WOAH THERE. Miguel? The grumpy, stompy, depressed guy? With Y/n? The also grumpy but as much of an ass as Miguel girl? What?”

MJ laughed. “Well Peter, I assumed because whenever you talked about them before, those two always seemed a little too close to be just friends?”

Peter had an epiphany, “Holy shiitake mushrooms…”

“The way they look at each other…You thought they were friends, Peter?”

Peter looked shocked, “THAT’S WHAT Y/N TOLD ME!”

MJ scoffed, “Maybe they are. But I don’t know, Peter! Friends don’t exactly do that!”

“WHAT?”

MJ went over to Peter and held his shoulder. “Just let them be okay? I trust whatever Y/n is going to do.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You teleported to your universe, ending up on the top of your apartment building. You accidentally tripped and cut your leg on a piece of metal on the ground. “Ah, fuck.”

You limped to your apartment and turned on the living room lights just a bit, enough for you to see where to go.

You went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and jumped as you turned on the bathroom lights.

“Are you alright?”

The hairs on your neck stood up as you stared at him behind you from the mirror. You felt chills across your spine as you made eye contact with his crimson red eyes.

He turned you around by the shoulders so you would look at him in the face. “I asked you if you’re alright?”

“How did you get in here.” You said, your voice cold and stern, making his eyes soften.

“You had your window open and the lights are on.”

“That doesn’t give you an invitation to come in.”

He shrugged. “It gave you an invitation last time.”

You frowned and tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Fuck you. Leave me the fuck alone-”

“Y/n, let me explain-”

Your eyes widened angrily. “Didn’t you want me GONE from your life? What the fuck happened to that? YOU LEFT ME!”

Miguel froze and stood back from you. You were already a crying mess from before and he noted how puffy your eyes were from your living room’s dim lighting.

All the sadness disappeared and all you felt was anger.

“Do you know how much I cared for you? And all you do is leave me and leave me a pathetic little note that you hate me?” You then walked over to him and slapped him. “How fucking DARE you.”

His eyes pierced through you as he whispered. “Cared? So you don’t anymore…?”

“Oh I didn’t say that. I hate myself for still caring for you, right now,” you said, feeling tears spill from your eyes again.

He put his hands in his face in frustration. “I did that because I care for you. I don’t want you to be hurt if you were to be with me, or for me to be hurt if I lose you.”

You looked at him and pouted, “Oh really, Miguel? You care for me?”

His face softened. “Yeah, cariño.”

Your face shifted to a calm look. “You still hurt me either way, you fucking idiot. You think i’m going to take that lameass excuse?”

He froze. “I hurt you?”

You smiled sadistically, “Did you think I was going to smile and laugh after seeing that bullshit? Oh ‘I want you gone from my life’ ahahaha! Give me a fucking break.”

You never thought you’d see the day Miguel O’Hara would go on his knees and start sobbing.

For you.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to hurt you,” he sobbed.

You felt a little cruel for wanting to laugh at his face. How was he going to fuck you and hurt you a few hours later?

That shit doesn’t make sense.

The silence was loud, giving you time to think until you finally spoke.

“How sorry are you?”

He looked up from his position and stared at you. “You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

You smiled at him, “Show me how sorry you are.” You said calmly.

You held a staring contest with him as you took your suit off, showing off your toned body, leaving little to the imagination with your red panties and blue bra.

His concerned look turned dark yet he still froze.

It matched his suit.

You lead him on the couch and cradled him once he sat down.

“C’mon, babyyy. Show me!” you moaned, going to kiss his neck as you feel a wave of his cologne hit your nose.

It was your favorite cologne.

You felt adrenaline go through your veins. You didn’t know what else to do and remembered how good last night felt, although the end isn’t what you wanted.

It was irrational and impulsive, you know that. But he wanted you to forgive him and he did say he’ll do anything.

“Ay dios…Fuck-“ he groaned as you grinded against his erected member, making your pussy throb even more.

He stretched his arm to press the button on his watch to take off his suit, leaving him naked.

You panted and smiled. “So you really are naked under there? Thought it was just me being delusional.”

He smirked and licked his lips. “It’s all real, baby.”

You bit your lips as his lips started to big in your neck and breasts, leaving more bites. “Show me how sorry you really are, hermoso. F-Fuck!”

He steadily fingered and abused your throbbing clit as your soft moans fueled him to go even faster.

He then stood up and turned you around to gain some support from the couch as your ass faced him. You felt your panties and bra be ripped off by his claws.

“F-Fuck you, that was my favorite pair.”

“Aw? Was it because it reminded you of me?” He laughed, his dick grazing your wet vagina.

“J-Just put it in already, O’Hara!” you screamed, grabbing his dick yourself and putting it in. The both of you moaned as pleasure shot through both of you.

“H-Harder, O’Hara! Show m-me how much you’re sorry!”

He started slapping your ass continuously as he went in and out of you. He started groaning as you were grinding against him again, “Asi, mami. Fuckkkk.”

You felt him twitch and immediately took him out of you. He looked at you angrily. “Pa’que haces eso?!”

“Not my fault you were going to come already. It’s been what? 30 seconds? Can’t you go longer?” you teased.

You switched positions and faced him as you had your legs spread out. He held them in order to then go into you again, only much more aggressive and faster.

You smiled and kissed him as he went aggressive on your sensitive pussy. “Mmmm fuck…”

He grabbed onto your legs a little too strong, making you wince from your injury from earlier but he still kept going and going.

You felt him smile in the kiss too and he went even faster.

The room was filled with a symphony of skin slapping and moaning, with the occasional curses Miguel let out in Spanish.

It felt so wrong, but so fucking good.

“P-Princesa please. I’m gonna come-“ he said as he painted your walls and insides white once again. Shortly after, you reached your high and was grinding on him once again.

“Oh-Oh fuckkk Miguel!” you couldn’t help but claw at his shoulders from the pleasure crash you were experiencing.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, princesa,” he said, as he carried you there.

He placed you on top of him as he entered in you again and you started riding his dick, which was hard again.

You started to make out with him again and moaned in the kiss. “Mmm fuck. Just like that, baby.”

He grabbed and squeezed your ass before he started spanking and he left your ass with several imprints of his hands.

He started attacking your breasts and massaged them as you rode his dick even faster.

You felt him twitch again as you clenched on his dick and smiled. “So soon?”

He threw his head back and grunted, “S-Shock-“

You laughed as he finished again, leaving the in between of your legs a sticky, white mess once more.

You went for a few more rounds until he tired himself out and knocked out.

“Already so tired, Miguel?” you said as he spooned you. He groaned as a response and closed his eyes.

This is what you always wanted; being in his arms as he protected you. The sex was just the cherry on top to a good fantasy come reality.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispered as he then fell asleep.

You smiled at him and stayed like that. You waited until you were certain he was knocked out and let yourself go from his grasp.

Lucky for you, you had an expresso shot so you didn’t feel so tired. You just felt a bit sore.

You took a quick shower and suited up with a new accessory you made.

You went over to your bedroom, being met with Miguel still knocked out in your bed. You smiled at the sight as he snored a bit.

“I’m just going to leave you a little note here if that’s okay? I’ll get going, cariño.”

“I’ll be gone for now, ” You kissed his forehead again while leaving a note next to his side of the bed along with your watch. You watched him for a bit before your face and tone went cold.

You went down to his level and whispered darkly as you smiled.

“I quit.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it!” Peter was pacing around outside of Miguel’s office and has been for 10 minutes.

MJ had Mayday for the day and Peter felt remorse for you, so he was going to stick up for you.

He felt bad that you went through this.

He understood Miguel was an ass to the average person but you two were friends to crying out loud!

It wasn’t until the door opened, revealing a fuming Miguel, stomping towards Peter.

“O-Oh h-hey Miguel-“

Miguel glared at Peter and scoffed, “Cut the shit, Peter. Where the fuck is Y/l/n?”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. Where. Is. She? Lyla?”

Lyla popped out from behind him and saluted, “Yes sir?”

“Find Y/l/n. I need to speak with her.”

Lyla frowned, “I’m trying but Miguel, she doesn’t have her watch and I can’t find her!”

Miguel looked even more upset. “THEN TRY HARDER!” Lyla’s eyes widened as she started to look even further, tracking your dimension history.

“U-Uh Miguel ? Are you alright?” Peter was a little frightened.

It’s obvious how terrifying Miguel O’Hara is when he’s angry.

“You. You were the last person to see her before-“ He stopped himself and bit his lip.

“You were just the last person to see her. Where is she?”

Peter frowned, “Well isn’t she in her dimension?”

“YOU THINK I HAVEN’T TRIED LOOKING THERE?”

Peter frowned at Miguel. “W-Well, if you weren’t such an asshole to her, maybe this wouldn’t have never had happ-“

Miguel pointed at Peter angrily, “Don’t you dare tell me what to do. You’re the last person I want to be lectured by.”

He turned around and walked back into his office, before Lyla spoke.

“I think I have something?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You smiled as you enjoyed the scenery of Nueva York once again, enjoying an empanada.

Alone.

Your heart stung. It would have been better with Miguel. You already got your revenge but he probably doesn’t care enough to say something.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hola mi amor!” Doña Rosa greeted, waving at your entrance. “The usual?”

You nodded as you smiled. “Yes, please. Just one though.” She nodded and went into the kitchen.

Doña Rosa’s husband pointed at you, confused. “Donde está ese chavo? Miguel, is it?”

As Doña Rosa finished packing up, she nodded. “Yeah mija! Something happened?”

You nodded. “It’s nothing! Don’t worry!”

Doña Rosa and her husband looked at each other and smiled at you.

“Whatever’s going on, I’m sure everything will be alright!”

“Hopefully, señora…Hopefully.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stopped munching on your empanada as you felt your Spider sense go off, but ignored it, thinking it was a bird.

That is, until you saw two web shots in a scarlet orange in your direction.

“Y/L/N!” Your body froze as you heard that familiar scream from behind you. He sounded so angry.

You had your suit but had a sweater on top. Which happened to be his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to give it back and it’s really comfortable.

You stood up and backed away.

He had his suit, except his mask, revealing his angry face.

Maybe you were being delusional again but it looked like he was crying.

“Miguel-“

He went over to you and hugged you, stuffing his face in your hair. He’s always liked the smell of your hair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really really sorry.” he muttered, hugging you tighter.

You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there frozen.

“I- I just didn’t want you hurt and what I did was selfish but I didn’t know how hurt you felt until you did the same to me. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

You felt him tremble a bit, maybe because he was crying again. You heard his voice crack again.

“Please forgive me…” You patted his back and smiled.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry too.”

He smiled. “I see you’re wearing my sweater,” he pulled on the drawstring and laughed.

“It’s just comforting, don’t take it to heart, O’Hara-“

Lyla popped out and rolled her eyes. “Just kiss at this point. It shouldn’t be hard considering you two did other things. Or might I say, each ot-“

Miguel pulled back and rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, Lyla.”

Lyla looked at you. “It wasn’t hard to also find you since your watch had a different signal than the others and-“

“LYLA!”

She scoffed. “Geez okay!”

He looked back at you with sorrow written on his face. He finally held out his hand in front of you and smiled.

“Are you willing to give us a shot?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

y’all choose your ending xo 😘

idk what I j wrote here but woo hoo! gone is finally complete!

pls pls pls send in writing requests in my profileeee!!! thank you <3

tags ❤️‍🔥 -

@viriexo @voldemort-is-bi @catr4dora @ushygushybaby @leftcupcakedefendor

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

Send me your fav fics, like, the ones u keep rereading at all times.

I'm mostly interested in the artists/characters tagged, but if u have something mindblowing that's from another fandom, feel free to send it to me.

Here are some of my favorite fics. The ones with a (!) Include smut. (Although I'm pretty sure most of you won't care lol.)

BTS >

BTS Hogwarts AU Masterlist - @btsinned (idk if the tag works, the link should)

Every member has their own one shot, definitely worth reading if you're in love with Hogwarts like me : ).

BTS Masterlist - @imaginekpoplikethis

I have been in love with this blog since I found it. All of their work is worth reading, especially Mixing It Up ( completed series, featuring bad boy Min Yoongi falling in live with his lil detective Y/N.) And 7 Years, (completed series, featuring bad boy Jungkook falling for Y/N, the first fic I fell in love with ever.)

Crush (JK oneshot) (!) - @jungxk

Where Reader has lost her memory and Jungkook and her fall in love all over again. I've read this so often, holy shit.

Just Make Room (Jk Drabble/one shot) - @jjksblackgf

There's not much to describe, just a quick cute read, to make you feel giddy.

Anpanman (JK Oneshot) (!)- @honeymoonjin

In which you and your best friend Jungkook go to a marriage therapist,, without being married.

[ Pls send me Jin fics, I love his quirky personaily but I haven't really found stuff I'd like to reread again and again yet. ]

Stray Kids >

The Coffee Shop Series - @hanjisick

All members have their own one shot, very cute.

Miguel O'Hara -

El Trato (The Deal) - @messylustt

A short series featuring you (a weak human) in which your boss, the leader of the Spider Society, falls in love with you. (!) Only the last/second to last chapter includes smut but there's tension in most chapters.

This is just a random bit of the amount of stuff I reread ( I have a idk-how-many-pages note on my phone with even more links lol.) But like, enjoy.

And send me ur own faves : ).

OH ALSO FOR THE YANDERE/FANTASY LOVERS-

Undying Love - @minuyu

Yandere prince x fortune teller reader. Legit the best book I've read in my entire life. The link will bring you to quotev, as she did not post this story on Tumblr, but you can read it on Wattpad too. It's not completed yet, as she's rewriting it, but I trust it will be.

I don't want to spoil anything, so no description, but holy shit the way it's written is so beautiful. Definitely worth your time.

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part II

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 3,943

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part two of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.

“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin.

And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly truck you in.”

You hang up your phone with a smug grin. So this Dr. Townsend thought he could intimidate you? Fuck that. You weren’t about to let that happen, and you’d made sure to give a fake last name, fake address (that you verified to make sure it wasn’t easily google-abley false), and left a fake phone number. It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this—you’d made up fake names in bars when you saw creeps hitting on women (and men) who were clearly uncomfortable. One time you’d made up a whole elaborate backstory about being the adopted sister of a woman who was being harassed and that was why you looked so drastically different. The drunken creeps had bought your little story, and the woman had been so grateful for the help.

You’d scheduled the fake appointment with Dr. Townsend for a week from now, and you had such a great time imagining the pissed-off expression on his face when you never showed and he found that he’d wasted his time on you. Why the hell had he been so adamant about you meeting him, anyway? You didn’t need a therapist; if anyone did, it was Betty, who was already on the rebound with a guy she met on tinder. You loved your friend, but by God, she needed to take some time to figure herself out. Maybe she’d do that when she went to her parents’ place for the rest of the summer.

Life goes on, and you put Dr. Townsend out of your mind as you work your job at the bookstore and come back home to the apartment you and Betty share to work on your creative writing coursework. Your latest course assignments consist of reading multiple books in your preferred genre of writing, but they all have to be by different authors. You also have to keep a journal that you write in first thing in the morning, three pages, and a few things involving figuring out what your goals are as a creative person and what kinds of thoughts hold you back. It’s all very introspective, which was hokey at first, but you’ve learned some things about yourself, and you find that you actually enjoy the exercises…even if they feel silly at times.

You come home from work on Thursday to an unfamiliar car parked in front. That alone is enough to send your nerves tingling, but the real shocker is when you step into the apartment to see Betty sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea…with Dr. Townsend seated across from her.

What the actual fuck? you think as you stare at the scene before you. As if he’d read your mind, Dr. Townsend turns his head to look at you, a warm smile on his face that does not reach his eyes in any way, shape, or form. “Oh, hello there, (Y/N)! Betty was just filling me in on her latest boy toy problems. Man, that James sounds like such a wonderful fella, doesn’t he?”

From what you’ve heard of James, you already hated the guy, but you weren’t about to declare that in front of Betty. You’re not sure what your face looks like, but whatever expression you have seems to give Dr. Townsend some form of satisfaction because he leans back in the small wooden chair and takes another long draught of his cup of tea.

“Yes, Dr. Townsend was telling me that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge guys by their profiles,” Betty said with a wide smile. Hers is authentic, you note grumpily. “I know that you said I should investigate James some more, but Dr. Townsend thinks I shouldn’t be afraid to take chances and explore the unknown instead of going into a relationship knowing everything about a guy.”

“Please, call me Leland,” Dr. Townsend says, flashing what seems to be a friendly smile in Betty’s direction.

Betty titters, a weird sound that you do not like hearing from your best friend. Oh, God, she’d better not be crushing on this asshole. It’d be just like her to fall for his charm and try to hit on him, even with the age gap.

“Alright, Leland,” she repeats, her cheeks pinking. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but you need to stop this conversation right now.

“Betty, don’t you have to get to your Zumba class?” you say, your eyes darting to the stove clock. Her Zumba class isn’t until 5:30, but it’s close enough to now that she should be leaving, especially if she’s hoping to chat with her buddies in the class.

Betty jumps up from her chair, the legs scraping the floor as she turns her head towards the clock. “Oh, shit! Yeah, I gotta go!” She gives you an exasperated look. “I’m not even ready for it yet! Danny is gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

“Then GTFO,” you tell her, glad that she’ll be leaving the apartment. Of course, that means that you and Dr. Townsend—Leland—will be alone, but you can handle him. You just don’t want Betty to be collateral damage.

Leland the Loser keeps the smile on his face, but you doubt that Betty noticed that it never reaches his eyes, which are icy and fixed on you. You walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter to wait for Betty’s footsteps to head into her room. Leland opens his mouth to speak, but you hold up a sharp finger at him, and he clamps his mouth shut, though he looks irritated about being cut off.

You refuse to say anything until Betty’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her as she rushes out. The moment the door closes, you whip your head at Leland. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand as you glare at him. 

Leland tilts his head at you innocently. “You never showed up to your appointment yesterday, (Y/N),” he replies in a honeyed voice. “I was concerned.”

And that is very fucking disconcerting. You’d given his office a fake address, a fake name. How the hell had he found you? “I think we both know I had absolutely no intention of meeting with you, Dr. Townsend,” you say in a flat tone.

“Please, call me Leland.”

“Fine, Leland. How the hell do you know where I live, anyway?”

His face changes. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s there, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “Ahh, yes. You gave my secretary a false address, false name, the whole dang shebang, didn’t ya?” That eerie glitter is back in his eyes. They’re just so damn blue. They’re not even a light blue; they’re dark and that makes them all the more off-putting. “It might’ve taken me much longer to track you down, but you made the mistake of using your own cell phone to call in.”

Oh, shit, you realize. “You tracked my cell phone?”

Leland smirks. “No, I just asked.” He doesn’t sound apologetic about it, not one whit. “I admire the effort, though. Not that it matters that much. If I wanted to find you, I would’ve found you.”

“Clearly,” you mutter as you scoot along the counter edge. Your kitchen knives are by the microwave, and something tells you that you might want them close. If this guy is so determined that he’s willing to figure out where you live and coerce your friend into letting him into the apartment…then he’s dangerous. 

His eyes catch your movement, and in less than a second, the smile is gone, replaced by a sneer. “You mind telling me why you’re so determined to avoid me, (Y/N)? Why you’re so…” his eyes dart to the knives and his lips curl, “afraid?”

You stop. You’re closer to the knives, but you’re also closer to him. What if he’s fast enough to get to you before you can grab a knife? You need a new plan. You mentally catalogue everything in your kitchen that you can use as a weapon. How fast can you unplug the microwave and throw it? “Well, you were pretty weirdly insistent at the coffee shop, and now you’re sitting in my kitchen. I think that’s reason enough to be suspicious of you,” you reply.

“Don’t tell me that you’re actually afraid of little old me?”

He sounds like he wants you to say yes, to admit that his presence makes you very, very afraid. Like hell you’re gonna admit that, especially if that’s what he wants.

“Concerned? Sure. Afraid, though?” You force yourself to chuckle. “What is there to be afraid of?”

He doesn’t respond, and the silence says volumes. You feel the goosebumps prickle again, but at least this time, you’ve got a light sweater on, a habit from your workplace. You’ve never been so grateful that the bookshop is kept at a freezing temperature as you are now.

Who the hell is this guy? You start to cross your arms but stop, knowing it would only make you look more defensive. Instead you put them on your hips. “The hell do you want with me?”

Leland adjusts the chair so that he can face you, and you curse internally at him. He knows you’re going for the knives and he’s telling you that he’s watching. “Like I said—I think we could do great things together.” He sets his mug down. “I’ve heard some interesting stories about you, you know.”

You purse your lips. “From who?” you ask.

He smiles, but there’s no kindness in it. “Oh, from some associates of mine here and there. They’ve hinted that you’re…quite imaginative when it comes to hurting people.”

“I don’t hurt people,” you snap. “I don’t do shit like that.”

Leland doesn’t look bothered by this revelation at all. “Alright, so then you don’t torment the men who hurt your friends? You’ve never done anything to the assholes who break your heart?” He raises his eyebrows, and you feel your breath catch.

How the hell does he know about that? Not even Betty, your best friend in the whole wide world, knows the extent of what you’ve done, the psychological vengeance you’ve exacted on each and every one of those dickwads. It’s almost a game at this point—you rank the men on how easy it is to scare them, on how elaborate your schemes need to be to terrify them. You’ve already started working on plans for James if he turns out to be just as shady as you expect him to be.

“No,” you lie, and Leland’s face twitches, like he expected you to do that. But how could he possibly know? You’re excellent at covering your tracks. There’s a reason you’ve never been caught by any of the exes.

“Why are you lying, (Y/N)?” he asks in a silky voice. “You’ve done some fun stuff. You’re allowed to brag about it. This is a safe space.” He waves his hands at your kitchen and you scowl.

“No, it’s fucking not,” you reply, a touch too aggressively.

Leland sighs dramatically and rises to his feet. You ready yourself for—for what? Is he gonna attack you in your own kitchen? “What would it take to get you to come to an appointment, (Y/N)?” he asks, and there’s an odd wistfulness to his voice. You’re confused. You barely know the guy. Why does he care so much? Why do you matter to him? “I’m serious—I think you’d be surprised at how beneficial it could be for you.”

He’s just…standing there, waiting for you.

So you take a step forward in the hopes that maybe you can scare him off. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t even look nervous. 

“Nothing—I repeat, nothing—is gonna make me come to an appointment with you,” you tell him, your voice firm.

He sighs again, looks away from you for a moment as he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. “Alright, then. What about this?” He looks back at you, and you do not like the way he’s looking at you. You want to back up, but backing up would mean giving in, even if it might be safer to do that. “How about you come to an appointment, and I don’t slip into here in the middle of the night—or day, I’m not picky—and slit your friend’s throat?” He nods his head towards the empty chair that Betty had been sitting in when you’d arrived home.

His tone is amicable, pleasant, but the words are jarring enough that you do take a step back. “Uhm, what?” You say, certain that you must’ve misheard him.

He gives you a cordial smile, and his entire face is lit up with glee at garnering a reaction from you at last. “I mean, unless you want me to. God knows she’s a whiney little bitch who really needs to make better choices in men. It’s probably a lotta work keeping her protected from all the assholes of the world.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d prefer it if she was gone. I can get rid of her body, too. Easy-peasy.”

There’s a queasy feeling churning in your stomach. Your heart is racing, and you’re trying to keep your breathing steady, but it’s hard when he’s talking like that—he’s fucking talking about murdering Betty, for Chrissakes! You have to breath in through your nose to keep it from shuddering.

You take another step back, this time on purpose. You need those knives now.

“What? You don’t like that idea?” Leland takes a step towards you, his face contorted into a mockery of concern. “You don’t like the idea of coming home to find that your roommate has disappeared without a trace?”

Your mouth opens and closes. You don’t know what to say, but you need to think of something, and fast, or else he’s gonna realize you’re feeling behind you for the knives. What would a final girl say? What would they say in the movies? “Uhm…thanks, but no thanks?” You say. Your voice is faint, and you hate it, because it’s betraying how worried you are. You suck in a shuddering breath. “I, uhm.” You shake your head in the hopes that it’ll clear your thoughts. It helps, if only a modicum. “As annoying as Betty might be at times, I’d, uh, appreciate it if you don’t, you know, murder her. Rent in New York is a real bitch.”

Alright, that works, you think to yourself. That’s morbidly funny, right?

Leland snorts in amusement, and you relax juuuuuuust a hair. He hasn’t yet noticed that you’re feeling around for the knives, and your fingers brush up against the wooden knife holder. “Great! So I’ll see you next Thursday at 3?” He chirps.

You blink as you lick your lips. “I, uhm. I work until 4:30.”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. “Fine. Five, then.”

You nod. “Sure. Five.”

He holds up a finger at you. “Thursday! Don’t be late!”

You flash him the biggest smile you can muster as your hands wrap around one of the knives. “Thursday at five. I’ll underline it on my calendar.” You nod your head towards the magnetic calendar that’s hanging on your fridge, and when Leland glances at it, you strike.

On second thought, charging at the man probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, but the fuck else are you supposed to do when he’s casually talking about killing your best friend?! It’s clumsy and dumb, but it’s too late; you’re committed to this. You lunge at him, the knife turned outwards. You’re really not sure what you’re meaning to do—intimate him? Slice him? Kill him yourself?—but it doesn’t even matter, because Leland has weirdly fast reflexes and he slaps the knife out of your hand easily. It doesn’t even fricking graze him, the son of a bitch.

The knife clatters to the floor. You try to duck down to grab it, but he grabs your arm and pins it to the table. You swipe at him with your other arm, but he manages to avoid it and pin that arm down, too. Now you’re both face-to-face, glaring at each other. You do the only other thing you can think of—you headbutt him, hard. He yelps in pain, but that wasn’t the best choice ever either because now your head hurts, too.

He releases your arms, but at the same time, he’s got the wherewithal to kick the knife away, and somehow you two have rotated in the kitchen so that he’s the one with his back to the rest of the knives and you’re the one with no other weapons.

Plus your head hurts like hell.

You’re huffing, breathing heavily, and he’s doing the same, but there’s laughter mingled in as Leland catches his breath. “Alright, that was fun! Not how I wanted our first session to go, but…” He raises a hand to you, not in retaliation, and you see that there’s red across his nose where your headbutt pushed his glasses into his nose.

You stare at him, dumbstruck, heart thudding in your ears. You’re genuinely not sure if you need to run away. You probably should, in all honesty, but then Leland moves, and you get ready to fight him again if you need to. 

But Leland doesn’t show any signs of wanting to keep fighting. Instead he reaches up to his cut nose, dips his finger in the red blood, and brings the finger to his mouth, where he slowly licks his own blood off of his finger.

And dammit all to hell, as fucked up as it is, it’s kinda sexy. You immediately shut down that line of thinking because what the fuck, brain, he just threatened Betty and for all you know, he might be planning to murder you after you just attacked him, you should not under any circumstances be attracted to that!

There’s warmth pooling in your lower belly as you watch him, and you have to wrench your face into an expression of horror to hide your true thoughts. God, what the hell was that?

Leland finishes licking his blood off of his finger and gives you a sultry, smug grin. “Oh, yeah, this is gonna be really fun,” he drawls, and there’s something in his voice that makes you flush, and you hate it. Betty is the one who falls for the shitheads. You’re the one who protects her from them. You do not put up with this kind of crap.

“Get out of my apartment,” you growl in a low voice, ignoring the throbbing in your forehead. You’re gonna have a lump there, you can tell.

His grin widens, and you catch a little splash of red on his teeth. He adjusts his glasses, wipes his nose. There’s no blood on the back of his hand, which means you didn’t headbutt him hard enough to break his nose. That’s unfortunate. “I can’t wait to see how next week goes. Maybe we’ll get to talk about Jordan.”

The name drop is casual, but the sensual warmth that you’d felt vanishes in a split second at the mention of your ex. You’ve been single for six months now, almost seven—Jordan was a disaster that fucked you up for a solid month and a half. How the hell does Leland know about him, though? You’ve taken great care to delete any and all traces of him. 

You don’t have time to ask that—not that you want to know, either. Leland Townsend has done his research on you and you hate it, but the sooner he’s out of your apartment, the sooner you can do some research on him.

“Get out,” you snarl. 

Leland looks pleased that he’s touched a nerve. “What’s the magic word?”

You glare at him. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing yourself to sound sweet. “I meant to say, ‘Please get the fuck out’.”

Leland laughs at that. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.” He turns his back on you, and you’re tempted to lunge for the knives and just stab him in his stupid creepy back, but he probably wants you to try that, and you can’t risk his stupidly fast reflexes, so you don’t. You stand in your spot, stiff, unblinking, only moving to make sure he’s actually going out the door and not trying to stay behind. “See you next week at five!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter. He flashes you yet another wide grin, one that you return in the most shit-eating way possible. His eyes are still cool, but they’re tinged with amusement. He enjoys your anger, the sicko. 

The moment the door shuts behind him, you rush to it and lock it. You also go to the window and watch him get into his car. He turns his head towards you as he opens the door and gives you a wave, which you return with a middle finger and another falsely bright smile. You see him laugh at you before he climbs into the car and drives away.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” you ask as his car grows smaller and smaller, the distance between you and him growing greater. “What the fuck is going on with me?”

You turn away from the window and take a seat at the kitchen table, your eyes landing on the knife on the floor. You kick it, sending it spinning across the kitchen and under the fridge, which makes you groan in frustration as you drop to your knees to retrieve it.

When you’ve tossed it into the sink, you turn to the rest of the kitchen. Leland’s empty mug is still sitting there on the table, and you scowl at the sight. You’d love nothing more than to smash the mug, but it’s your favorite one. How the hell had he wound up with that mug, of all the coffee mugs in this place? It’s like he somehow knew that you’d want to smash it when he left, like this is some kind of sick test of your self-control.

Well, screw that bullshit. You’re not gonna smash your mug, but you’re not gonna take this lying down, either. You’re gonna research the hell outta this guy, and then once you figure out his weaknesses, you’re gonna scare the fuck out of him before he can do the same to you.

You make yourself pick up the mug and put it gently into the sink. There’s a smear of red on the rim, and you’re reminded of the way he’d looked at you as he’d sucked the blood off of his finger.

That warm feeling returns, and you hate yourself for being just a little turned on by the memory.

To stop yourself from reminiscing any further (you will not catch feelings for this psychopath), you turn to your writing assignments. Maybe writing about you feelings will get them out of your system, and then you can turn your full attention to researching this blue-eyed bastard.

You’re also gonna have to give Betty a talk about letting strangers into the apartment. A very strict talk.

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said

They never, never wake again, who rest upon your bed!”

————————————————

Part Three

[nilsavatar]

DAY 4 - SPANKING

Parings: Jake x Fem!avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, SMUT in the end, P in V, spanking, use of pet names (baby girl, sir), dom Jake, age gap, mentor-student relationship (difference in power), one night stand, cheating, mention of Lo'ak x oc, Spider has a crush on her. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Aubree (reader) has just arrived on Pandora, her lifelong dream finally coming true. But a series of misfortunes will lead her to share a passionate moment with the sexy Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya. Starting with a broken shower.

Inside you will find a hint of Lo'ak x OC. Let me know if you would like a version with him as well.

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist - Request a fic

“So, it is settled? There will be new entries in the AVTR Program. I don’t like the sound of it.” The last part was said in a whisper that Norm heard anyway, thanks to the amplified senses of his Na’vi-like body. “We’re understaffed, Jake. They’re trusted people, among the best minds on Earth, who love this moon just as much as we do.” “You love it so much that you rejected Faanì’s advances,” he chuckled. “That woman terrifies me. She is so…” “Confident, go-getter?” “‘Encroaching, pushy.” “Hey, it’s the Omatikaya ways,” he shrugged his shoulders. “They’re used to being straightforward, and taking what they want.” “Ignoring her isn’t direct enough?” “Evidently, their extreme sincerity doesn’t let them acknowledge the hidden meaning behind your evasiveness. Also, Faanì has several suitors; your coldness will be the reason for her apparent obsession.”“Apparent, really?” “Admit it, you’re at least a little pleased. She’s a stunner, and she’s totally into you. Come on, loosen up a bit. It’s fine to have fun sometimes. You're the last unmated dreamwalker and one of the few who didn't opt for the permanent consciousness transfer. Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about…” His silence was as loud as a scream. “It won’t bring her back. And that's not what she'd have wanted. You know that, right? Anyway, when are they getting here?” “In a week.”

“I thought you would make the first link with your avatar as soon. ”When her fingers touched the cold, metallic handle, she almost exulted. Dusk was fast approaching, and she longed to rid herself of the sticky, humid rainforest heat by jumping into the shower. Her head bent to hold her cell between ear and shoulder, a clipboard wedged under her armpit, and her badge lined up haphazardly toward the lector on the door.

"That's not how it rolls," she said, holding back a chuckle. “They put me through some tests first. Linkage can be risky if you're not in tip-top shape. I was in cryo for six years and woke up on a whole new world. You should know better than me, doc.” The woman on the other end of the phone chortled. “What can I say? I’m a therapist. Mind’s my thing; the rest is in the hands of you geniuses.”

The unlocking beep was covered by the resounding clapping of the paperwork that slipped from under her arm. Great. She rolled her eyes at the ceiling, opening the door and pushing the fallen papers in with one foot. Then she disposed of her purse and badge, leaving them on the shelf at the entrance. Aubree was about to answer her, but her voice lost its importance the moment the trill of an incoming email rose from the small monitor on the desk.

“It’s Max. My exams are ready. Tomorrow's the big day! My avatar's coming out of the incubator and I'm making my first connection.” “Amazing! Go freshen up, grab a good meal, and hit the hay early. Tomorrow’s gonna be a tiring day and the experience of the first link may be traumatic.” “Are you speaking as a friend or a psychologist?” “As both?” “Consider it done, Liv. Rest assured.” “And tomorrow night we’re going to have a momentous hangover. To celebrate.” The scientist smiled. “Doesn’t sound like very professional advice.” “Hey, I've been waiting for you on Pandora for a year! You finally got your doctorate, and you're not gonna party? You're the worst, you know that?” “Technically, I got it six years ago.” “But for you, it’s like it was yesterday. It’s a lot to process. What do you think we therapists are here for?” “Norm’s not gonna be so happy.” She heard her exclaim, “Can’t wait! Tomorrow it is! And eat.” “Aye, aye. See you tomorrow,” she signed off before hanging up.

She huffed as she laid the papers neatly on the desk, went to the bathroom, and hurriedly undressed, opening the jet. As soon as the cold water rained down on her heated skin, she let out a sigh of relief. Aubree hated the hot weather, the bugs, the sweaty clothes. All things she hadn’t considered moving here, but still wouldn’t make a difference. In the summer, on weekdays, she took two showers a day, sometimes one even at night when the mugginess prevented her from sleeping. Occasionally, she wondered where she found the strength to get out of bed at three in the morning to shower.

Out of the blue, as she was soaping her hair, the jet went off. She tried to turn it back on a couple of times, before walking out of the stall cursing, grabbing a towel to rub her skin and hair. Then she put on the first thing that came her way and left the room at a brisk pace. She refused to skip her beloved evening shower.

The girl walked down the long corridor until it opened onto the link beds wing, where she knew she would find Norm. And indeed, there he was, emerging from his pod; a tired expression painted on his face. Waiting for him, besides the medical team, was a tall Na’vi in warrior garb who struggled to keep his back straight because of his size. Just further away, another pair of natives who appeared noticeably younger, her peers presumably, but equally warriors judging by the cummerbund that wrapped around their ribcage. They whispered and nudged each other while laughing at something only they knew.

Their somber vociferation was abruptly ceased at the entrance of the girl, who, if she had not been so stymied, would have noticed the astonished stares and the sudden muteness filling the room. With the soles of her bare feet flapping in stride, her hair glossy with shampoo, her clothes clinging to the non-dry skin and showing off more than they should, and a livid expression, she planted herself in front of Norm, who stared at her with some embarrassment and intimidation, although the woman was noticeably smaller than him.

And the same could have been said for poor Jake, who tried to focus on everything else as long as he did not look down at her cleavage. The damp fabric not only perfectly outlined her breasts but also highlighted her air-conditioned nipples. The darker areolas showing through the white material, pointing at him like a pair of eyes.

“Norm.” She called caustically, and for a moment Jake swore he sensed him trembling under the accusatory tone with which she pronounced his name. Shit, he himself had felt an electric shock run down his spine and pour into his lower abdomen. "This is the third time in two weeks," she accused, arms crossed, foot tapping. That simple gesture lifted her chest just enough to knock the corporal’s breath away, the loincloth getting tighter and tighter. She was a sassy one. ”Something's definitely wrong with the hydraulics. We can't keep this up.”

At those words for a moment, the man felt pulled in, as if she was referring to his own plumbing problem. Well hidden between his legs, thank goodness.

“We will arrange it.” “We’d better.” At that point, Jake cleared his throat to signal that, yes, he was still there. “Um, Aubree, this is Jake Sully. Jake, Aubree Young, our fresh addition to the Avatar Program.” “Aubree, the PhD student. Nice to meet you.” She had to suppress a groan hearing the syllables of her name roll across his tongue; it was almost like feeling them tickle her back, spoken in that muted, persuasive voice. The girl was petrified under his impassive gaze (Jake was a talented actor); she had seen him portrayed several times. He was practically a rock star, but he didn’t look so handsome in pictures, which just didn’t do him justice — especially to those eyes. He extended his large hand toward her, however, she responded by bringing two fingers to the center of her forehead to draw an arc, bowing in respect. “Olo’eyktan, smon nìprrte’ (nice to meet you).”

Fuck, did she have to bow like that? From that angle, he could see her bosom in all its youthful splendor. A woman in her prime. Deliciously round and full against the thin material.

“Holy shit!” burst out a voice behind them. Spider. “What the heck happened to you?”

Like a bucket of ice water, finally, the revelation of her scant coverage crashed over her. She looked down at her body, realizing that she had her breasts basically sticking out, and a muffled sigh left her lips. In a magnanimous gesture, a colleague offered her his gown, which she fastened onto the very last button, mortified.

The lips of the Na’vi boy with the shaved right side of his head tensed in a thin grin, and a subtle — or rather, sadistic — gleam animated his eyes, not even deigning to move them from just below her face. “You do seem to have a conflictual relationship with underwear,” he subtilized wryly. Aubree wished the floor would have swallowed her all: she had forgotten her bra. “Lo’ak!” the other two Na’vi called back to him in unison, and he turned away without showing the slightest touch. “We’ve raised you better than that.” Jake wished he could have been more severe in his rebuke, but it was undeniable that his little dig had affected him.

What did he mean by that? The girl had a habit of publicly displaying herself in such an… unbecoming way? More likely she was just a hothead. Annoyance had driven her out of her room in that attire.

“Still the broken shower,” Spider guessed. “Yeah,” in all her awkwardness, still a hint of irritation shone through from the young woman’s mumbling. “My offer is still on the table until things get sorted.” "Thanks, but I don't want to be a burden. Liv said I can shower at her place. Anyway, Norm, please do me a favor and find a solution.” The man nodded, sensing more than well what she implied: ‘For your sake and peace of mind.’ She would haunt him until her bathroom was repaired.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Liv blocked a forkful halfway through to look up at her. ”I’d prefer that, trust me.” “Did you show up in front of the olo’eyktan and his sons drenched from head to toe, and with your tits out?” “I didn’t have my tits out!” “They weren’t in place either, though.” Her friend sighed, chewing quietly. “So, what do you plan to do?” “Ignore it?” ”Acting like it didn't happen won't make it go away.” “I will not humiliate myself further by going to apologize. I won't have many chances to meet with them, anyway.” “Probably not the clan leader or his eldest. But Lo’ak…” the tone in which she mentioned him did not please the doctoral student at all. “Speak.” ”He's a total jerk. He'll make your life a living hell after that. Avoid him at all costs.”

Aubree could add nothing else, not sure she could trust her voice as she settled what a mess she had just gotten herself into. She had come to Pandora to chase her dream, to make a difference and find her place in the universe, not to be gratuitously humiliated and mocked by an overgrown kid. No way she would allow that, not at twenty-seven.

With the addition of avatars as potential new clan members among the Omatikaya, a new rite of passage emerged - the Introduction. In general, it was comparable to the period when native adolescents were ready to embark on the path of rebirth. A night festival was dedicated to them in which dreamwalkers presented themselves to the people. It had been unofficially established for a few years now and usually coincided with the avatar’s optimal body mastery. It had taken Aubree a couple of weeks, a period when Lo’ak had not exactly spared her from prying and equivocal jokes and glances, but now that she was officially an avatar in training to become Omatikaya, things could only get worse.

Lo’ak was her assigned mentor.

To describe that being formed by the youngest Sully son was awful was an understatement. It was pure torture.His sole purpose was to torment her from the moment she stepped outside Hell’s Gate until the moment she put it back in. From sunrise to sunset, seven days a week - excluding a few sporadic days of freedom. Usually spent doing the work for which she had come to Pandora. Studying.

Fatigue marked her face to where it was impossible not to notice, and Lo’ak was keen to let her know he had noticed.

“Trouble sleeping, princess? Did they stick a pea under your mattress? Or maybe you had a wild night out. Bummer I couldn’t be there. I wouldn't mind seeing those pretty little boobies again.”

Asshole.

One day, dealing with the guy had become particularly untenable. Aubree needed to do something, and fast.

She interrupted the day's training and rushed back to headquarters to confront Norm and the olo'eyktan. Too bad the latter intercepted her first.

“Wuo-oh-oh, what’s going on here? Where you off to?” “I can’t take it anymore,” she confessed, almost breathlessly. “Your son is...is...” She would have had many unkind epithets to call him, one meaner than the other, convinced that Lo’ak deserved them all, from first to last, but in front of his father, she bit her tongue, merely grunting. “Lo’ak can be... difficult,” he said it as if an entire ecosystem was encapsulated in that simple word. And to some extent, it fulfilled its purpose, but simultaneously, it fell short. “What if we switch places?” “Excuse me?” “Since things aren’t going smoothly between the two of you, I’ll mentor you from now on.”

That was the beginning of the end.

*

Jake was a good karyu (teacher). Patient and understanding, aware of Aubree’s limited physical abilities. The girl was not a soldier; she was a lab rat, a bookworm, and going too hard on training made no sense. The man had a kindness towards her he had never shown, even to his daughters. Almost too permissive, and this made the Ph.D. student forget he was not just anyone. 

Jake was the olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

This made her bold and overconfident. The formal tone disappeared with his title, replaced by more casual conversations, banters, and wry remarks. Sometimes even unmistakable glances. The boundaries of their teacher-student relationship were blurring into something unknown and dangerous. It was unseemly for Aubree to have a crush on him.

The girl took pains to hide her true emotions. He was a committed man; she repeated to herself, complete with children, and he was at least twice her age. She couldn't help but think about the man's age, which was old enough to be her father. But damn, she had never seen a hotter dad. He was smoking hot.

Shit, stop it right NOW.

“Are you still with me?” “Pardon?” “Stop daydreaming. Let's be honest, you do it often. It doesn’t work. Not if you aspire to be one of us.”

One of them. She wondered if she had what it took to give up her humanity. She shouldn’t desire someone else’s man to begin with.

“Let’s get back into position. Back straight, one foot back, hold your breath and draw your bow.” Jake stood behind her. “Your arms are too stiff.” His hands slipped from her shoulders and reached for her pelvis to turn it properly, but that made her gasp. He frowned as if to scold her for losing her posture. 

He seemed to be in a foul mood today. The usual patience he seemed to reserve for her was gone. Aubree couldn’t see the growing frustration that had been eating at him since he had met her. She had no inkling of the thoughts that were gnawing at his soul. His mind kept wandering to the forbidden scenarios he dreamed up. Fantasies he should not have had, not about her. He was about to say something biting, but when he saw her face, the words vanished.

She had shiny round eyes, blushing cheeks and nose, and inviting parted lips. A purplish hue was about to invade her neck. 

If he had kept staring, she would have seen him coming for sure. Instead, he ran right into her. With barely a rustle in the air, he forcefully lifted her face with his hand and imprinted his mouth onto hers. She stumbled backward, her head slamming against the tree bark. The impact left her momentarily dazed and a sharp pain shot through her skull. Closing her eyes or making any movement was impossible, as he had a vice-like grip on her cheek and neck. She tried to wriggle out of that almost grotesque contact. 

What was it? A kiss? His lips were sealed, his body tense against hers and his forehead contracted. The grip mean. She pushed him away harder with the sudden urge to scream at him and finally broke away. She caught a flash of something in his eyes. Perhaps it was anger and welcomed it as a reflection of her own. The hand snapped automatically, and the acute pop on his cheek was as liberating as the burning in her palm. Aubree did not speak, still furious, and Jake took a few seconds to turn his face toward her.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said, seemingly calm despite his clenched jaw and flashing gaze. She dared not answer, which only caused a sinister smile to cripple the man’s handsome face. “You’re in big trouble, baby girl.”

“Where are we?” ”The old shack." “But you said—.” “I know what I said,” he snapped. She bit her lip to stifle any giggles and we entered the abandoned, silent mobile laboratory, uncertain whether to say anything. Suddenly, the boldness she had had up to that moment seemed to disappear under the flickering neon light of the links section.

Aubree took courage and ventured to lift her head. It was like flipping a switch. The tension grew, and the door leading to the food court opened. At least a dozen scenes played out in slow motion in her mind, as they looked at each other reflected in the mirrored wall that outlined one side of the small room. But Jake didn’t look intent on taking her there. Not right away, at least.

Why wasn’t he talking? His lips were tight and his posture tense. Perhaps she had misinterpreted and was not attracted to her.

In silence, they reached one last door, which must have been broken down, because Jake had to force it open. He stepped aside to let her in, and with a hint of anxiety, she stepped forward into the dimly lit interior. The woman could distinguish a couch, a series of monitors on the wall, a few photos. The sound of the door closing behind her made her jerk, and she turned toward him, truncating him, already watching her.

“Jake.” Was he not going to turn on the light?

He approached her with an indecipherable expression, her heart beat faster in her chest, but she sighed with relief when she smelled his scent again. A million questions clogged her throat.

“Jake.” “Hmm?” “Do you want me?” she asked him in a thread of voice. His lips brushed her forehead, and she felt him smile in the darkness. “If I want you...” he said, leaving the sentence hanging. He grabbed her by the arm, making her turn around, and pushed her against the door. Then he made her body cling to his and whispered in her ear, “You’re having fun, aren’t you, little girl?” She felt goose bumps forming where his breath blew. “Doing what?” she asked, resting her head against the metal surface of the door. “To challenge me,” he said, rubbing his lips on her neck in an imaginary path. “That’s all you’ve been doing since I met you.”  His rough voice was setting her on fire. “In that little white dress, without a bra, I’ve been thinking about it for days.” “I thought Na’vi didn’t mind nudity,” she provoked him. 

I’m not Na’vi.

Jake closed his hands over her breasts and in response she bent her neck back, parting her lips to gather more oxygen. He lifted his arm, but before she could touch him, he grabbed both her wrists and locked them above her head. Then his lips were on her again, more firmly this time. She could distinctly feel the contours, the softness, the moist saliva that impregnated them. He found a flap under her earlobe and took it between his teeth, sucking lasciviously; Aubree stifled a moan and tried to move against him. It was not enough for her; she wanted more, much more. The fire was raging.

“Come,” he said, barely moving away. “Huh?” she mumbled, confusedly. He detached himself from her without letting go of her wrists and guided her to the sofa he had been eyeing earlier. Aubree would have liked to look at his face to see what he was up to, but she dared not to talk back. “Hands on the backrest.” The authoritative tone, the deep voice, left no room; this was the Olo’eyktan speaking. She swallowed and slowly placed her palms on the solid cushions. “Bend over,” he ordered again, and she shuddered as a strange instinct was surfacing within her. The scientist obeyed silently and turned her head, resting her left cheek, surely flushed, on the fabric. She could feel her heart pulsing against her rib cage and the edge of the couch pressing against her sternum. 

She felt his hands curve over her hips and slide down to the fastening of her shorts. “From now on, these clothes are banned. You wanna be Omatikaya? Be Omatikaya.” With a powerful tug, he pulled them down. Aubree distinctly heard the fibers tearing. “You can keep these instead,” he asserted, running his fingers along the fabric of her lace panties. The woman held her breath as his icy fingers caressingly furrowed the flesh of her bottom.

As he thought about it, Jake realized that the delicate fiber and intricate designs of Earth women's lingerie were something he missed.

“No shenanigans to throw? You are so quiet,” he provoked her, and she exhaled an eager giggle. “On the other hand, you are talkative, sir.”

A harsh, searing pain shot through her the moment his hand spanked her; the air choked in her throat and she squinted. She licked her dry lips and let out a hiss.

“Say my name,” he ordered peremptorily, and she realized he had done it on purpose. He wanted her to answer him so that he could continue. Aubree didn’t really know the direction she was going, but she heard how a voice called to her like a muse. “Ma’olo’eyktan?” she ventured, and clenched her jaw, wincing at his second slap. She felt the vibration of his palm transmit throughout her body and the girl had no more doubts. The rush of glee that had electrified her brain was caused precisely by him. “Mr. Sul—.” He changed angles swiftly and she could not hold back the trembling moan that rang out perfectly clear in the silence. His hand caressed the burning skin and bent over her. “Don’t hold back,” he told her before another clapper echoed through the air. Her legs trembled, and this time, her cunt pulsed in response. Aubree moved her arms and clutched the edges of the pillows, searching for any foothold as she felt lost in a completely unfamiliar ocean of dire pleasure. 

The fifth spank made her neck tense, and her lips twisted into a mute and perfect O, still trying to suppress any sound. She waited for a handful of seconds for his hand, which did not come, and relaxed her muscles. The pop came unexpectedly and louder than the previous ones. She groaned, caught by surprise.

She heard him click his tongue and his feet spread her legs; the embarrassment of being totally exposed suddenly rained down on her, but she could not move a muscle. His hand slipped between her thighs and peeled back the texture of her thong; his fingers grazed her glistening intimacy, and he moved them slowly, before slipping one in with disarming ease. She opened her eyes wide at that single touch and moaned even louder.

“Oh, come on, I barely grazed you...” his voice was hoarse, mocking, and he went deeper, beginning to kiss her back. Aubree hated the camisole that separated his lips from her skin. Her thoughts now disconnected, and arched her spine as she reached an exceptionally sensitive spot.

“Jake, please,” she gasped, and he bit her shoulder, now completely spread-eagled on her. Aubree sensed his erection pressing against her thigh and levered her arms up. She couldn’t take it anymore. She forced him up and turned away, ignoring the dizziness that rose from that sudden movement.

It must have surprised him, because he did not react immediately. She looked at him, scarcely illuminated by the moonlight glow peeking through the window. He was so handsome it was sickening. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him, pushing him backward toward the couch. He grabbed her neck with his hand and pulled her away, stiffening. She could not look into his eyes, but she could hear his breath catch.

What was he thinking about? Were the kisses too intimate? Was this something reserved for Neytiri? He could fuck others like concubines, but he couldn’t romance? Was he going to punish her again?

She would never have known, but a few seconds later, it no longer mattered; Jake fiercely brought his mouth together with hers. His warm tongue explored the watery interior, the groove of teeth, rubbing against its twin. He took her head in his hands and she felt as light as a balloon, as if she had been drugged. She encircled him with her arms to hold him close, but the man reversed the situation and she found herself lying on the couch.

He stood for a few seconds and she looked down at her without a word as he unbuckled his warrior waistband, then abandoned on the floor somewhere. He was on top of her and Aubree soured on his scent, kissing any spot she could reach, hearing him swear at the loincloth.

His movements became eager. He carelessly slipped off her panties and spread her legs apart, tracing her body with his palms and then bringing her wrists over her head. The man entered her all the way, without warning, and she stifled a gasping sob in response to his choked sigh; he took a fast, pounding rhythm right away and the slight initial discomfort soon vanished. She encircled his waist with her legs, pinning him against her, without registering that her thong was sagging to her ankle, and tried to go at him with her pelvis.

Each mighty thrust was a jab into the bowels and then invest a violent sensation of enjoyment. The scientist murmured something incoherent as she felt the thrusts become erratic; he bent over her, felt her labored breath in his hair and branded her neck with the outline of his canines. She emitted a hoarse wail and realized she was close.

“Let m-my ... arms,” sounded more like a plea. The desire to hold him had become irresistible and disruptive. “Forget it. Come for me, baby girl.” The arching sound of that nickname set her on fire permanently. Liquid waves swept over her, clouding her thoughts, and her vocal cords made it inexorably clear, echoing through the hall like an echo.

He sank into her again, two, three, four strokes, before emitting a low moan and coming out of her, spilling onto her belly.

Aubree could not tell how long they stood listening to each other’s heart relaxed. Jake slumped to her side, releasing her wrists, and she brought a hand between his dark dreadlocks: they were softer and smoother than one might imagine. As she re-emerged from that velvet bamboozlement, she felt him rise from her. 

Noises came from somewhere in the old, abandoned workshop. Then his figure came back into her field of vision, leaning over her to gently clean her abdomen. The woman was grateful because she felt as if sucked out of all energy. 

She had not felt so deeply fulfilled in a very long time and wanted to enjoy that feeling to the fullest.

“You good to go back to HQ on your own?” he asked her, finishing removing his traces from her, breaking the magic. “Yes,” she murmured in a whisper, slightly intimidated and incredibly embarrassed now that reality was shattering over her.

It had been a quickie, a onetime thing consummated with the urgency of provocation getting the better on common sense.

Jake was Olo’eyktan, a family man with a spouse to whom he owed his devotion. An episode like that would never happen again, and Aubree clung to it as if that memory was worth her life.

The memory of the day she had really gotten into big, big trouble.

Notes: this fanfic did not turn out at all as I had wished, it should have been much longer, with a richer storyline, but I wanted to share it with you anyway. Hope you liked it💕

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[cemeteryspider]

Just A Little Mysterious

Mysterio!/Quentin Beck x Vigilante!/ Wife! Reader

*Set during the events of Spiderman 2*

Summary: What-if Quentin Beck had a wife during the events of Spider-Man 2, and helped Miles fix the situation

Trigger Warning: Kidnapping, Unconsciousness, Violence, and Emotional Distress

Word Count: 1243 Words

Quentin Beck was rushing to the main Mysterium in the Coney Island Fair. A work of art expertly designed by him and his team.

Although hesitant at first of using the Mysterio name and image to advertise and promote the new form of entertainment, Betsey and Cole told him that they were remaking his image and showing the world that he is not a bad guy, just that he had done bad things in the past. When his lovely wife Y/n got hold of this information she just about burst.

~~~

"God, they can't just force you to be someone you're not anymore. This is ridiculous. You are Quentin Beck not some super-villain. You've done so much to move past that life and to dredge that up for some ad-revenue, it's sickening"

She furiously started typing on her phone presumably to Betsey or Cole or both. Carefully I removed the phone from her frenzied hands and turned it off.

"Sweetheart it's okay. I think it will be good to give a new life to Mysterio. Show the world that people can change. Maybe inspire some others to change along the way"

Quentin wrapped his arms around her gently and started to sway. He could feel her anger drip away with every deep breath she took.

He knew she learned this technique from the same therapist he was court mandated. When she was calm enough she gave him a big squeeze signaling she was ready to talk and that she wasn't going to speak out of anger.

"Sorry, I just know how hard you've worked to separate Mysterio from Quentin. I just don't want to you lose progress over some buisness decision someone forced upon you"

"I know but I understand that Mysterio is an act I will put on to help the world now. Quentin is the man behind the mask who deals with the paperwork and who has a loving wife to come home to"

She smiled up at him with her soft lips. He leaned down to give her a quick peck.

"As long as you always come home to me"

"There is no one else in the world that I rather would"

~~~

He should have listened to her that day. Took himself and his former villain name off the menu. Now he was running to save his wife from what ever mess he had got her into in the first place.

Once Beck arrived at the Mysterium he was swiftly deal with. Told to put handcuffs on and his (now former) business partners would lead him to Y/n.

Only, once he was standing in a maintenance closet, and he turned around to demand to know where his wife was, he was swiftly knocked out with the butt of a gun and his head smacked against the cabinet beside him.

He could only hope his wife was okay wherever she was.

~~~

Inside a stupid snow globe of New York with nothing to do except hope to find a way out. Which for however long Y/n was in there, she couldn't find.

Frustration brewing, she preemptively started her breathing exercises. She wanted to call out to Quentin, but knowing exactly who was behind the mystery now it seemed useless.

Her friend Miles Morales asked for her help with solving the cases with the Mysteriums, which she happily obliged. She knew this would help Quentin and Spider-Man solve the case laid out before them. However, the more they uncovered the more her husband seemed to be the culprit, but she knew him like no one else.

She saw him cry when he came home from work, and get frustrated at the technology as well as his co-founders. Never angry enough to do the things the dev tapes insinuated.

Then she thought back to the day when she lost her cool in front of Beck. He calmed her down and everything was starting to make sense. Then she went to confront the two women, Quentin had once called friends, and she landed here.

In a snow globe.

Just as she was starting to lose hope Miles crashed into the tiny New York City and a fight ensued.

She knew what Miles thought, after all he dismissed her help and told her to stop looking into the case. "Conflict of interest", he stated. But went he saw her in the same predicament as him, he understood he had the situation pegged wrong.

She gave him a little wave and they got to work. He was taking out the Mysterio floating around while she was taking out the green goons on the ground with a baton and her Red Room training.

Once Miles turned Mysterio to green mist, he grabbed her hand and we swung towards the portal. Her hair swung around as they whipped through an upside down New York City.

When they swung through the next portal Quentin Beck was standing there holding his chest and breathing heavily in his Mysterio costume.

"Baby"

Y/n was running towards him and held him up a little. He smiled at her and brushed a strand of hair behind her hear.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Darling" He quietly whispered in her ear.

He did his best to turn to Spider-Man, and said the best advice he could,

"Keep fighting. Keep doubting. It is the only way to defeat him"

After a bright flash of purple both Y/n and Miles were in a Coney Island graveyard facing multiple Mysterios. Together they made quick work of the copies finally facing the 'true' Mysterio. The fight was happening fast and Mysterio held Y/n is a chokehold and threw her into a gravestone.

While worried about her the fight for their lives continued. In one final punch Mysterio disappeared and they were in the main room once again.

The illusion broke for the final time, and Miles finally saw Y/n sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. Quickly, he broke the door down to reveal Cole furiously typing on a computer and Betsey yelling to get the illusion back on.

Miles made quick work webbing them up, and inspecting the bumps coming from the closet door.

"I knew you'd find us"

~~~

As the police took Betsey and Cole away. Quentin took Y/n to a nearby ambulance, which she was trying to resist but eventually gave into.

Miles rested on top on the Mysterium roof. When Y/n was getting checked out Quentin appeared on the roof next to him.

"still have a lot of questions"

"this should clear things up"

"so can I tell everyone Mysterio's a good guy now?"

A small laugh escaped Beck's mouth.

"Mysterio will always be a villain. Just as Spider-Man always be a hero. It's when you start looking at the people behind the masks that things get messy"

They both looked at Y/n who was laughing at Quentin's jokes, and when Miles turned to look at Beck he was gone.

~~~

"Are you truly okay Darling?" Quentin asked as they closed the door to their apartment.

"Yeah I promise I'm doing just fine"

He looked deep into Y/n's eyes and held her close to him. He breathed in the scent of her hair which mingled with sweat and blood.

"I almost lost you"

That's when the tears started to make their way down his face. She held him a little tighter.

"I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

[marzmeltdown]

Familiar Taste of Poison - PT 2

⌦ Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader ⌦ Genre(s): series,, angst,, fluff ⌦ chapter specific genre: fluff,, angst ⌦ Warning(s): !!TW:Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse, mentions of depression!!, reader kinda uses Wonwoo, a lot of this will be in multiple pov's(I will clarify when it changes pov's), some mention of being sick, swearing, ⌦ Word count: 1.39k ⌦ Summary: You and Wonwoo have been friends since childhood, though you're both a little estranged from one another, the only contact being when you call Wonwoo for help. ⌦ A/N: If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:) ⌦ I have attached a link to a website with help hotlines around the world, this series has heavy themes of mental health and substance abuse. This link will be added to every chapter.⌦ International Mental Health hotlines ⌦ Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

⌦ (Wonwoo's POV) Wonwoo hadn't heard from you for a few days after you had called him for help, and to be honest, he wasn't too upset about it. Not that he didn't enjoy your company, or your friendship for that matter, but because he'd finally accepted his worth when it came to your relationship. So to say he was surprised to hear from you on a Wednesday afternoon before 5:00 p.m. was nothing short of an understatement.

Wonwoo glanced down at his phone when it began to ring, seeing the caller ID of the two of you in some goofy pose with your name at the top being displayed on the screen. He paused the video game he was playing and answered the phone, leaning back in his gaming chair, preparing himself to have to roleplay as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"Hey, y/n, what's up?" He asked, pushing his keyboard farther up the desk so he could play with the corners of the mouse pad he used to decorate his desk.

"Hey, Wonwoo, are you busy?" You asked. It was odd that Wonwoo's packed schedule had suddenly become a cause for concern, but for once he was free. Wonwoo had to move the phone from his ear to double check who had called him, and just as he suspected, the caller ID was his childhood nickname for you.

"Uh, I'm just playing a video game at the moment; why?" He asked once he had placed the phone back to his ear. His heart began pounding like a drum as his mind began to wander to the multiple scenarios that you could have found yourself in. Most, if not all of them, were related to being cross-faded and stranded at some party in the early hours of the morning. At one point, he almost asked you to move in with him because he had picked you up so much.

"My parents have pissed me off, and I just need to get my mind off things." You sighed, and he chewed on his bottom lip as he thought, should he get involved this time? Or should he let you fall on your face? Who was he kidding? He was always going to be your knight in shining armor.

"Okay, I can be there in like 30 minutes," he said, knowing he would be getting an earful from you about how your parents don't know what you're talking about and that it's 'not alcoholism until you graduate college.' Which is probably the most confusing thing Wonwoo has ever had the displeasure of hearing; obviously, you as well as everyone else knew that wasn't how that worked. But he wasn't there to be your therapist; his job was to be the shoulder you cry on regardless of the time of day, or night, rather.

"Awesome, I'll be in the backyard when you get here. If I have to hear my dad compare my lifestyle to one of his patients one more time, I think I might combust," you said, the sound of a sliding glass door opening and shutting following shortly behind your voice.

"I don't think you'll combust," Wonwoo laughed, turning off his PC as he got around to leave.

"I just might," you joked, making an explosion noise with your mouth to emphasize your point, to which Wonwoo replied with another laugh.

"Whatever, I'll be there soon," Wonwoo said before hanging up the phone.

⌦ (Reader's POV) Waiting for your best friend to show up had to be the longest 30 minutes of your life. You had decided to occupy yourself by pulling pieces off gras out of the ground only to toss them right next to where they had once lived unprovoked. It was barely 5:00 pm and you were already buzzed, if you had to be honest, there almost never was a time where you were sober.

That was a thought you pushed out of your head as soon as you heard your mother's screaming voice announcing Wonwoo's presence. You snapped your head up from the patch of grass you were ruthlessly attacking and to your childhood best friend, he smiled softly and sat next to you.

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo whispered, knowing your mother was only an ear shot away. She had always been within earshot of the two of you from the day you two met in the fifth grade and he had come over for your eleventh birthday party.

"I'll be better when we get out of here," you whispered back, wiping any stray pieces of grass and dirt from your hands as you stood and doing the same to the back of your pants. Judging by your glossed-over eyes, uneven balance, and slurred words, Wonwoo could tell that your parents concerns were valid.

"Alright, do you have any places in mind?" Wonwoo asked, following your actions. You didn't have any plans in mind; you almost never did. Everything you did was spontaneous, which is part of the reason why you had only one reliable friend. If you could call him a friend, for that matter.

You weren't sure why Wonwoo had insisted on holding your elbow as he walked you to your car, you were perfectly fine to your knowledge at least.

"We should get ice cream and then go back to your house," you suggested after Wonwoo had started driving.

Wonwoo didn't say anything as he drove to a small ice cream parlor in town. The parlor had been open since you two were knee-high to a grasshopper. Your order had been the same since you were five: a small twist with a cone in a cup and sprinkles. Wonwoo always gave you a funny look when you ordered such a childish form of the desert, but you'd rather order what you enjoy than a plain chocolate shake.

You were on ice cream-holding duty, following Wonwoo to a picnic table that sat under an old oak tree.

"So, are you going to tell me why your parents made you upset, or am I supposed to guess?" Wonwoo asked as soon as the both of you sat down. You looked at him for a moment, almost taken aback by his bluntness. He sipped on his milkshake for a moment, awaiting your answer.

"Uh, my parents' are concerned about how much I party." You said it softly, looking down at your rainbow-sprinkled ice cream and moving the spoon around to mix the sprinkles in with the ice cream.

"And?" He asked again.

"I told them I didn't need to go; I don't have a problem," you said, looking up from your ice cream and back to your best friend. "Do you think I have a problem?"

"When has my opinion ever mattered?" He asked, and his words felt sharp against your chest. You'd grown used to having friends that encouraged your destructive behavior, so the honesty was a shock of reality.

"What's that mean?" You asked, and your body started to tremble with irritation.

"I'm just saying, ever since we decided to go to separate colleges, my opinion holds no value to you anymore," he shrugged, poking his straw around the inside of his cup in order to loosen up some of the ice cream that was still too thick to flow through the straw easily.

"I care about your opinion!" You said you were offended that he thought that. Why would he think that? His opinion has always meant so much to you.

"When it's what you want to hear," he said, his voice still so calm, which only irritated you more. How could he be so calm in this situation?

You decided you had enough of Wonwoo's third degree, furiously standing up to storm off. You'd gotten halfway to the parking lot before stalking your angry self back to the picnic table. You snatched the ice cream cup from the table and turned around without a word, continuing your journey to, well, wherever you ended up.

You grabbed your phone from your back pocket, opening the messaging app and then the group chat you had with some college friends. You already had a message from them.

⌦ Yejun: Wanna go out tonight? (read 4:29 pm)

⌦ You: Yea, we can get ready at my place (read 4:30 pm)

⌦ Yujin: Great, we'll meet you there. (read 4:32 pm)