#BUT THEN THE PICTURE ACTUALLY STARTED GLITCHING???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

3K notes · View notes

vln-vibes · 1 year

Text

Amity Park; Clone City ?

It started with a video.

Tim had been scrolling through social media, as one did when procrastinating doing boring paperwork for Wayne Enterprises. He found himself going down the rabbit hole and somehow ended up going down the Unreality/ARG path.

He had to appreciate the dedication to bringing these stories together, some of the stories could actually happen given all the shit he'd seen in his hero career. Anyway this ended in him getting fed back to back Not Real videos. At least that was until he found The Video.

The caption on the screen was the first thing that popped up in front of the face of a latina teen who was trying not to laugh; Imagine getting wrecked by a twink

The camera flipped two buff guys wearing red and white Leatherman jackets, one was on the grass with his head tilted to the side and a basketball next to him, the blonde guy was looking at his friend with tears in his eyes before turning red and turning to the side and yelling out.

"You're dead Weston!"

"I said sorry!"

The camera then did a sharp turn to zoom in on a lanky ginger teen. It looked as though the blonde was about to go beat the shit out of the guy before the ground shook and the sky turned momentarily green.

"Ah shit, must be Skullker"

The audio began to glitch before the cameragirl began to run, the blonde could be seen carrying his companion, the ginger guy running besides them. A sudden cry came from behind as they could hear what seemed to be a girl trip.

"Star!"

The video started to glitch again and the camera fell from the girl's hand. As the girl picked up her phone the video showed that the ground where the blonde fell was now charred. When the girl panned to the side he could see that the ginger guy had tackled her.

"Are you guys okay?" her slightly accented voice could be heard with a weird echo, the ginger guy had his head back to the camera as he helped the girl up.

"Ugh Skullker's the worst, I still can't believe Ember dates him" the girl groaned. She looked up;

Kara?

"At least Phantom's already on it" the ginger guy turned around.

Wally?

The video ended and Tim found himself rewatching it over and over again--- There was no doubt that those two were Kara and Wally. Sure they looked younger but it was them.

There had to be more to this, was this really some sort of ARG? The explosions and the weird glitches, was that just all some part of a gimmick? Also why were there two younger versions of prominent heroes? Were they clones? Was Cadmus involved?

If it was clones then Cadmus was definitely involved.

He clicked on the girl's profile--- PaulinaxPhantom<3

Most of it was blank, not in a 'She doesn't really post much' sort of way, like her photos and video were whited off. He could see a sporadic picture and video here and there but they were divided by blank pictures that never loaded or video that crashed without ever showing anything.

He knew it had nothing to do with his connection so what the hell was going on. Could it be something with the site?

On a recent picture it was a selfie of herself with 'Star'/Kara with a link to 'Star's' profile.

Same thing as Paulina; pictures and videos surrounded by never loading and permanently whited out.

He checked the blonde jock's, Dash, and had the same result. Apparently the guy he’d been carrying was named Kwan—

Was that Garth? Sure he was a lot bulkier but he had an uncanny resemblance to the Atlantean.

Then he found 'Wally' again, or Wes apparently; Wally West and Wes Weston? It wasn't giving him much hope.

Wes was apparently part of Casper High's journalism club given his video about trying to meet the deadline and ranting about how annoying 'Boxie' had been, having trashed their clubroom and making them pick up after him.

"Stop complaining and actually pick up the slack Weston" a female voice spoke up from behind him.

"Yes, yes Chief Editor Manson"

Raven!?

Another video had him in a local food joint where the waitress was taking an order from a black haired customer, scowling as she noted the camera on her and flipped him off as the camera zoomed in on her, which was a dick move on the guy's part (as if service industry workers didn't have to deal with shit customers in the first place). The customer she was helping didn't even look back and also flipped him off.

"Get a life Weston"

Karen?

Oh holy hell bats! Was that Dick!?

Oh crap. Oh motherhecking heck!

This was bad.

Fumbling off of his bed and out of his room with a single drive to get to the Batcave, where he knew Bruce would be at the time and be able to assemble an Emergency Meeting with the League, he only had one thing in mind.

Why the hell would they hide clones in the middle of bumfuck Nowhere Illinois?

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Batpham #dp x dc crossover #Amity park is weird #They suspect secret clones #thats how the JL find out about the GIW #counterparts #danny fenton & dick grayson #Wes weston & wally west #Sam Manson & Raven #Tim is spiraling #Tim is panicking #Is everyone a clone???#Jazz fenton & Barbara gordan

2K notes · View notes

matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Text

Troubles Unforeseen

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Wowowowow- I did not realize my story would be so well received hahaha, I'm honestly grateful you guys like it so much. Anyways- here's the loooong awaited continuation to the series and I hope you all enjoy this installment as much as you've enjoyed the past ones. Happy reading!

A/N: To say this was looong overdue is a friggin understatement since it's literally just been chilling in my drafts like no one's business hahahaha. I'm posting it now so people can start writing ideas about what to do after Reader dies, but go ahead and feel free to keep posting HCs about Reader still being alive. It's an AU at this point and I'll keep writing about it like one HAHAHAHA!

To say Vox paid more attention to you now was slightly an understatement.

You were both practically connected by the hip digitally.

Even your friend group noticed how much time you'd spent just chatting whoever was on the receiving end of your shenanigans.

Not that they knew what kind of peculiar situation was always on the other side of the screen.

In fact, Vox was aware he probably should've been paying more attention to the meeting he was in-

It just so happens that you interested him more than any typical business ever could.

All the more when you'd told him you were getting ready for a party.

"It's just a birthday celebration Vox, it's not like I'm going to a club or anything."

"If there's any booze try not to get shitfaced, or will you drive yourself there?"

You could only giggle at his worry, taking a glance at your phone as it continued to buzz from his messages.

You clipped on the new earrings you'd bought just a few days ago to go with your outfit.

Even if you had gone shopping with your friends-

You still sent Vox pictures, asking what look he preferred.

He was in the middle of spying on Alastor when you once again swiped up all his attention.

Aaaaaand he actually thought you looked great in all of the outfits.

A warm feeling spread through him upon seeing your cheeky grin and silly poses.

Ah whatever, at this point it was nothing new.

But he did finally end up picking the one which bore a striking resemblance to his color scheme.

You didn't even notice at first when you bought the outfit.

Only when you saw the small desktop companion Vox made for you while doing assignments did you realize the subconscious decision your overlord buddy had made.

You teased him about it for a while too, much to his chagrin.

"I'll be with my friends, you don't have anything to worry about."

"The same friends that caused how we met? Doll, I have every right to be concerned."

Vox had nothing against the chaotic nature of your friends.

After all they always brought out the best-

And the worst-

In you, no matter what you were doing.

Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very... off.

Like an ominous shadow just looming over his shoulder.

He didn't make any mention of it though, thinking he was just being paranoid.

Besides, he didn't want to rain on your parade.

You'd gone the whole nine yards to pretty yourself up for the party.

He wouldn't want your efforts to be in vain.

Vox felt a twinge of jealousy towards the fact others would be able to admire how nice you were in real time, he only had pictures.

Wait what-

Okay, there was definitely something still wrong with him.

"I might not be as active for a few hours because of the party so go and actually focus on the things you gotta do."

"Are you insinuating that I don't do that already?"

"When you spam memes and talk to me nearly all the time can you blame me for not thinking you're always distracted?"

Vox mumbled cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes and glancing back up to check if the boring meeting was over.

Ugh... were they even halfway done discussing this shit?

"Yeah whatever, enjoy your party dollface. Don't get too hammered."

"Hahaha love you too dumbass, I'll keep you updated."

The overlord glitched slightly reading your reply.

His stomach definitely did a flip when he first saw what you typed.

Vox already knew it was probably just a: "I love you as a really close friend" thing-

But that didn't stop his systems from freaking out about it anyhow.

He decided it would be best to stop thinking about it anyways, placing his phone down and finally placing his attention back on the meeting.

Like it should've been the entire time-

Vox didn't really give a fuck though.

On your end, you were going to be picked up by your friends before you all headed to the party.

You guys decided it would be smarter to carpool so most of you guys could actually drink and unwind.

"Heeeeey bitch! Wow! Your outfit slays!"

You rolled your eyes before climbing into shotgun.

"I had some help picking out the look, any good?"

"(Y/N) you are going to break necks with how fast heads will turn, are you kidding me??"

That just reminded you of something Vox said when you showed him the pictures of your completed outfit.

'They're going to turn their heads so fast it'll give them whiplash! You look stunning darling!'

Vox's knack for petnames sometimes embarrassed you, especially when it sometimes seemed a little more than friendly.

Though- that was probably not the case, he was just being the charming idiot TV telecaster that he was with his sweet talk.

You often caught yourself wondering if he ever meant his words, or if it was just the persona Vox played up.

You partly hoped he meant it, even if you didn't know why.

That was until the not-so-subtle snickering of your friends popped the thought bubble you were in.

"Ooookay, what's so funny?"

"Who are you thinking about~? That digital 'friend' of yours?"

You audibly groaned from the situation your friends were insinuating.

They never really believed that you were just chatting with a friend when you were on the phone with Vox.

Despite the multiple times you'd blatantly mentioned that he really was just that.

A friend, a companion-

He wasn't supposed to be anything more than that right?

A blush was creeping up your neck as your friends continued to prod and tease at you for it, fanning your own face slightly to try and calm down the raging embarrassment.

Of course, it would always be fun and games-

Until it wasn't.

Everything happened so fast.

You were just joking with your friends in one moment-

And now you were coughing up blood in the next.

You remembered your friends screaming, some bright headlights, the brakes screeching then metal crunching.

You couldn't even move.

The entire front of the car had been shoved backwards into the front seats.

Even if the paramedics got here in time, you doubted they could save you.

The coppery tang of blood stained your tongue.

You'd gotten all dolled up for the party too.

It's unfortunate that now you'd never be able to go.

Heh... you probably wouldn't even be able to get drunk now either.

Wait-

Oh shit-

Vox!!

You wanted to reach for your phone but both your arms were fucked up in the crash.

The only thing you could really move was your head.

Even then, darkness was already starting to creep into your vision.

It didn't matter how valiantly you fought to keep your eyes open.

You lost too much blood, by the time the paramedics had arrived-

They announced you dead and took you away in a body bag.

The lower half of you had gotten entirely mangled from the accident that you surviving seemed bleak to begin with.

You thought you were done for when you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only when you opened them again- you were somewhere else entirely.

What...?

The skies were blood red, there was practically fire and murder everywhere you turned-

And oh ew- it even smelled like rotten burning corpses.

Where the fuck were you??

Was this supposed to be hell???

You carefully wandered around, hesitating here and there before stumbling across a large building.

Hazbin Hotel...?

Huh, you had no where else to go.

Might as well give it a shot.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

433 notes · View notes

iateyourparents · 5 months

Text

new girl | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: colby goes live on instagram but not everything goes as planned.

warnings: nothing really, just bad writing and grammar(sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: colby was pacing so much on his ig live and it gave me this idea <3

pictures are from pinterest and colby’s snap:)

Your and Colby’s relationship was still somewhat fresh. And mostly important, hidden from his fans.

It wasn’t that you wanted to keep it hidden forever but you were together for seven months so you both didn’t feel ready for viewers reaction.

You knew he had many fangirls and some of them would probably eat you alive but you were ready for that and didn’t really care, but it didn’t change the fact that hiding it was making it even more exciting for you two, more special. So you didn’t rush to announce it although sometimes you wished you could just say to world he’s yours.

Currently you and Colby were sitting in the living room of your airbnb, waiting for ordered food while Sam was sleeping upstairs.

“I think I will go live on instagram for a few minutes.” Colby told you but didn’t move from his place under you on a couch.

“Okay, do you want me to go to our room?” you asked grazing his bare chest with your fingers.

“No, you can sit here. I will be careful to not show you.” he promised and you smirked at him.

“You better do, I’m not sure if your fans would be happy with some girl wearing only your hoodie.” you both laughed and you rolled of him so he could get up. He quickly kissed your lips and told you that he would start live on the balcony.

You were sitting silently on your phone, sometimes looking at Colby and listening to him answering people’s questions. He moved from outside and now was pacing around the room trying to not show you on his phone.

You started reading something on your phone only giving half of your attention to Colby’s words.

“Let Sam sleep.” he laughed and he didn’t even noticed his mistake, but fans surely did. The little, short flash of you lying on the couch in black hoodie was visible for his viewers for only a second but it was enough for them, they still caught it and started asking about you.

Colby noticed the comments and cursed himself but tried to act like there’s no comments about you. Until there were only comments about you and he just had to adress that.

“What?” he acted surprised “I’m alone here guys.” he looked at the couch where you finally looked at him and immediately understood what happend so you quickly but silently got up and went upstairs “Look, there’s no one on the couch. Maybe it was just a screen glitch or something.” he laughed.

Next day whole fandom was talking about mysterious girl on Colby’s live and him trying to play it off.

“You are screwed.” Sam laughed looking at tweets “Or maybe not. Some girl’s theory says it’s prank, like the one we did with Jake.”

“Maybe Sam could act like your girlfriend again and we would just act like it’s actually a prank again?” you offered looking at Colby.

You knew he was worried that the hate you would get after announcing your relationship would scare you off, so you didn’t want to press him into announcing even if you felt like you wanted to just go in public with him holding your hand and kiss him freely whenever you felt like it.

“We should think about it.” Colby agreed “Would you do that Sam?”

“Sure bro.” Sam shrugged and announced he’s heading to the store.

“Do you think we should do that?” you asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Colby looked at you after placing kiss on your forehead.

“Wouldn’t you want to announce it already?” you squeezed his hand “I know you’re scared I won’t be able to handle the hate but I’m afraid I even more won’t be able to handle not being able to kiss you in public, hold your hand and hug you.”

“You’re sure?” he looked at you with a hope “I really want to tell the world you’re mine girl but I don’t want you to be hated on by my fans, it would kill me.” he placed his forehead on yours.

“I’m sure love. I love you and I don’t care what your fans think about me as long as I have you on my side.” at your words Colby smiled widely.

“I love you baby.” he kissed you “I’m sure Sam will be sad he’s no longer have to be my girlfriend.” you both laughed.

“How do you want to announce it?” you tilted your head looking at him and playing with his rings on his fingers.

“We are supposed to be exploring a house this weekend, would you like to go with us?” he smirked and you nodded with a smile.

“Sounds fun.” after a moment of silence you added “I hope your fangirls won’t be haunting me after the announcement.”

Colby laughed at that.

“I’m sure they will love you, you are just impossible to not love.” he kissed your nose.

“Yeah but they also hoped to be your girl some day.” you giggled.

“Well, this place isn’t available anymore, sorry.” he shrugged “Let’s watch something.”

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #snc #colby #katrina stuart #samuel golbach #sam golbach

657 notes · View notes

unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Okay so @willowworkswithwords sent me this fucking perfect prompt about Steve casually mentioning how much of an asshole his dad is is during a movie night at the Munsons and Wayne immediately shifting into Concerned mode, and I almost finished the thing but then tumblr glitched and i lost it to the void forever. I learned my lesson to never save anything to tumblr without backup ever again, buuut here it finally is:

Wayne first met Steve Harrington long before Eddie officially started dating the boy. He figured out that his nephew was head over heels before Eddie himself did. He hadn't been too thrilled about it, at first. In his experience, boys like Steve Harrington, with his big car and neatly ironed polo shirts, could only want two things from boys like his Eddie: drugs and secret encounters in the dark before he'd finally follow the path that was perfectly mapped out for him by his parents. But it didn't take him too long before he admitted that he had misjudged the boy. He noticed it even before Eddie himself did: Steve Harrington had fallen like a brick for his nephew, and he was in it for the long run.

He mostly met the boy in passing, whenever he'd come home from his night shift while Steve was just leaving the trailer park, or when he'd be heading out to get to work at the same time as Steve came by to pick up Eddie for a date or to hang out with that group of freshmen that Eddie would never stop talking about. The boy was always perfectly polite to him, calling him things like Sir and Mister, apologizing for being in his space and thanking him for the most ridiculous little things. Wayne thought it was a bit much, but he supposed that it was just how the boy had been raised, all formal and uptight. There was something behind it, however, a certain guarded look in his eyes, that always gave Wayne this uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He didn't quite understand what that was all about – until the three of them were having a movie night in the trailer on one of Wayne's nights off.

The two boys were all over each other on the couch, their legs entangled and their fingers intertwined, with their heads as close together as if they'd die if they wouldn't be breathing the exact same air. It made Wayne wish he had a camera on him; instead, he tried to imprint the picture into his memory.

He didn't care too much for the movie, which was about some rich teenage girl trying to break free from the restrictive uptown life that was suffocating her by getting herself some no-good boyfriend in a leather jacket – who Steve and Eddie enthusiastically agreed was a “hot piece of ass.” The main bad guy was the girl's dad, a character who checked off all the rich asshole dad stereotypes: suit that made him look bigger than he actually was, wife who let herself be bossed around by him at all times, and that kind of undefinable charisma, which made everyone else feel like all the air had left the room whenever he'd walk in.

'He kinda reminds me of my dad,' said Steve while leaning forward to get himself a handful of popcorn. It was just an innocent, offhand remark, and sounded perfectly nonchalant – but as he said it, the camera zoomed in on the girl's face to convey one single emotion: fear.

Steve leaned back into the couch and stuffed his mouth full of popcorn, getting crumbs all over his shirt and seemingly not noticing how both Wayne and Eddie had frozen by his remark.

Wayne met his nephew's wide-eyed gaze over the top of Steve's big hair. Wayne wasn't exactly a talkative person, and over the years in which Eddie had been living with him, they had perfected the art of silent communication, not needing more than some looks and gestures to have complete conversations with each other.

Wayne raised an eyebrow at Eddie, which meant something along the lines of Did you know about this?

Eddie responded with a barely-visible nod.

Wayne made a sideways movement with his head. Why didn't you tell me?

Eddie shrugged. It wasn't my place to tell, that meant.

Wayne nodded at him and turned his gaze back to the screen, but he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to properly shift his attention back to the plot.

'You wanna stay over?' Eddie asked Steve when the movie was finished.

Steve's eyes immediately flashed to Wayne's corner, that familiar guarded look in them. 'Um... Would you – would it be okay if I stayed the night, sir?'

'You can stay whenever you like, son,' said Wayne. 'And stop calling me sir, alright?'

'Alright, yeah, okay, sorry sir,' Steve stammered, which made Eddie burst into loud laughter. Wayne merely shook his head and got up from his chair.

He never sat Steve down for some official talk about his asshole dad – that wasn't his style anyway. He preferred conveying the message by little gestures: calling him “son” whenever he had the chance, refusing to be called “sir” ever again, giving him a key to the trailer, inviting him over to watch basketball together, taking him fishing when they both had a day off work... After a while, that guarded look finally disappeared from the boy's face. But it returned a couple months later, when Steve accidentally called Wayne “dad” in a distracted moment. Wayne didn't say anything about it; he merely gave the boy a pat on his shoulder to let him know it was okay. He didn't mind getting called “dad” by Steve Harrington for one bit.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #willow thank you so much for sending me this prompt i really loved it #wayne munson my beloved #ficlet #stranger things #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fruity ficlet

5K notes · View notes

theoreticaltranstherian · 2 months

Text

Jumping on the bandwagon woo-hoo

no spam reblog or spam comment ;P

For every 100 reblogs I'll drink another bottle of water

Update: Ive drank almost 2 whole water bottles in the last 3 days which isn't much proportionally but for one, I'd probably not even drink one if it wasn't for the internet critters in my phone telling me to and also, yk, thats alot of water compared to my last few weeks getting all my fluids from food

10 reblogs: Go to bed before midnight tonight

50 reblogs: I'll make my bed in the mornings for a week

Update: I found out that my bed being made kinda stresses me out for some reason, it's just so neat I get scared, and so instead I am putting away 3 pieces of clothing that have been clean for months and i just haven't touched every morning :D

75 reblogs: I'll work on getting accommodations for my autism at school

Update: I don't have the required "proof of diagnosis" and I'd have to wait 2 years or so to get it and I won't be in school anymore at that point, so I'm working with my counselors to see what they can do aside from official autism accommodations

125 reblogs: I'll work in upping my failing grade in math

Update: Math test retake on the 12tg, wish me luck!

150 reblogs: I'll work on my dopamine addiction and get help

Update: Hooooooly shit addictions are hard. I'm going to start a timer for time between uses of YouTube shorts or Instagram reels in an effort to reduce my need for instant gratification and try to replace every time I pick my phone up with drawing or reading or talking to people around me.

200 reblogs: I'll post my art that I've been self conscious about posting

Update: I am really happy for this, it's finally an excuse for me to make myself post my art :D it's probably gonna be 1-2 drawings per post with a little background with each :3

300k reblogs: I'll start cleaning up my room

400k reblogs: I'll clean out my bag (God pls don't get to 400 yall T T)

500: I'll get sharp objects out of my room

1k reblogs: I'll be really happy :0

Edit; Added more goals

2k reblogs: I'll start streaming on twitch again!!!

3k reblogs: I'll empty out my drafts

5k: I come out as trans to my parents (I don't know if they're transphobic so to speak, but they are of the mindset that "do whatever you want once you're out of our house but until then you are our kid" but I wanna be like um no actually-)

5.5k: I come out as trans to my non-transphobic grandma

6k: I come out as trans to my transphobic grandma

Edit 2; Yo same picture of the earth reblogged me?!? the picverse found this?!?! that's insane xd

Edit 4; I added some coming out goals because I'm not gonna do it if I don't have the pressure from hundreds of little things in my phone cheering me on xd

Pinging moots so there's at least a small chance of any of these happening xd

@calimewzz @annotated-catastrophe @glitched-out-dusk @life-is-okay-rn

#now I can blame my personal failures on a lack of internet fame #instead of my own inability to function properly #>:D

307 notes · View notes

mingoooossii · 2 months

Text

Love.

Yunho x reader

Synopsis: so reader gets shit from work and stuff happens and they make up.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, insecurities, fear of abandonment(?),self-hatred(kind of). fluff at the end and some kisses. Might be a Lil awkward since I can't do emotions. Also it's long, idk how many words but it's long. Typos maybe?

"Babe!"

The soft glow of the television flickered across the room as Yunho entered.

"Have you seen my hoodie? The grey on-"

But his question died in his throat as his gaze landed on his partner.

You sat huddled on the couch, the phone pressed tightly to your ear, brow furrowed in a picture of distress. Yunho's smile faded, concern gnawing at him.

He stepped closer, his voice soft. "Everything okay?"

You flinched at the sound of his voice, quickly ending the call. You took a deep breath, trying to mask your distress with a weak smile. "Yeah, just work stuff." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Yunho wasn't convinced. He knew you better than that. Your "work stuff" rarely left you this visibly shaken. He sat beside you his hand hovering over yours, offering silent support.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You hesitated, then sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "They called," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "About the project."

Yunho's stomach clenched. He remembered how much time and effort you had poured into your current project, how excited you were about it. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them pleasant.

"It's gone." you said, voice cracking. "Deleted. Apparently, a system glitch. And now I how to redo it in 3 days."

Anger sparked within Yunho. "That's ridiculous! It's not your fault, and expecting you to pull that off in that time…"

His words were cut short by a sharp look from you. "Don't." you snapped, your voice thick with unshed tears. "You wouldn't understand."

Yunho recoiled, his heart sinking. "What do you mean I wouldn't understand?" His tone softened, replaced by confusion.

Tears streamed down your face. "You're good at everything, Yunho." you whispered, voice laced with self-hatred. "You're talented, it's all natural to you. I'm not like that i..." You paused, wiping your tears away desperately.

"I'm not talented like you and... this is the one thing that I'm good at and...if I can't even do that, then what good am i?" You sobbed, wiping your face, frustrated at the non-stopping tears, breaking his heart further.

Your words hit him like a physical blow. He had never realized how you perceived him, or how it made you feel. The truth was, he admired your dedication, your resilience, the sheer amount of effort you poured into everything you did.

"That's not true..." Yunho started, a hint of desperation as he reached out to you. "You're wrong. You're much more than you think you-"

"I don't need you to appease me." You cut him off with a bitter tone, picking up your laptop. "Yunho, leave me alone." You looked away from him, reserving yourself to the office room. He watched as the door shut close with a sickening thud, resonating with his heartbeat.

Three days crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the growing distance between them. You were a whirlwind of activity, fueled by adrenaline and exhaustion. Your eyes, once bright with passion, were now shadowed with determination, bordering on desperation. Meals were quick, silent affairs, your focus solely on the screen illuminating you.

The frustration gnawed at him, but he knew pushing wouldn't help. This was your battle, and you had to fight it your way. Instead, he chose to show his support in quieter ways.

He stocked the fridge with your favorite snacks, left a fresh mug of tea outside your door, and even attempted to fold a few stray shirts (with predictably disastrous results).

He knew deep down that you weren't shutting him out, you were shutting yourself in. All he could do was be the ground beneath your feet, a constant presence even when you couldn't see him.

'i did it...i actually did it!' Three days. After 72 excruciatingly long hours, you finally did it. You finally pushed back from your desk, your eyes stinging from exhaustion but a flicker of triumph lighting them. The project was done.

But the elation was short-lived, choked by the hollowness that echoed within you. Guilt, suffocating and heavy, settled on your chest. The memory of your cold words, the slammed doors, the silent treatment you had inflicted on him all came rushing back. Shame burned your cheeks. In your single-minded pursuit of finishing the project, you had pushed away the very person who loved and supported you the most.

With trembling legs, you walked towards the living room, your voice thick with fear and regret. "Yunho?" You called out, voice barely a whisper. Silence. You tried again, louder this time, voice laced with desperation. Still nothing.

He usually came back from the company at this time except for...today.

Then he left...you?

Panic clawed at your throat at the thought. Tears streamed down your face, carving hot tracks on your cold cheeks. You sank to your knees, the weight of your actions crushing your spirit.

'He finally had enough of your selfishness and left you..' Your mind spun, conjuring scenarios, each bleaker than the last. You sobbed into your hands, not noticing the door opening.

Yunho stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. The grocery shopping took longer than he thought. He hummed a low tune as he walked into the living room, freezing when he spotted you, on the floor.

Panic settled within him at the racking sobs that escaped you. Dropping the bags, he was instantly by your side, cradling you into his arms. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Startled, you whirled around expecting the worst but instead, you found his concerned eyes.

Relief washed over you, a tidal wave threatening to drown you. But before you could speak, Yunho's face crumpled with worry, holding your face gently. "Honey, What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

His concern, so genuine and unwavering, broke the dam of your emotions. You collapsed into his arms, the sobs returning with renewed intensity. All the guilt, the fear, the shame poured out in a torrent of broken words. "I thought you left me..."

"Why would I leave you?" He asked, voice gently but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

''I thought you got sick of me and left." You sobbed, your voice barely a whisper. I'm so sorry for being so selfish and i pushed you away and I-"

Yunho cupped your face, cutting you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. He wiped away your tears with his thumbs. His gaze was soft, filled with love, so much love.

"I was worried sick, Y/n. " he admitted. "But I understand. You were going through so much, and I…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I just wanted to be there for you, but I pushed too hard. I should have listened more."

He held you tighter, his heart clenching at the fear in your embrace. "You must've panicked because I was late."

He pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there. "I just went grocery shopping to stock up. I should've told you earlier, I'm sorry, love."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, but all you saw was love and concern. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. How could you have doubted him like this?

"I'm so sorry." you whispered, voice trembling. "I was awful. I shut you out, and then…my stupid thoughts…"

Yunho shook his head, cradling you close to him,his voice soft. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault. But I'm never letting you go through that again."

Yunho pulled back, gently stroking your hair, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "But you really thought I was going to leave you? Never, you're stuck with me forever." He said, voice gentle yet firm. "You know how obsessed i am with you."

A choked laugh escaped your lips. "You're impossible." you mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Yunho grinned, holding you close. "Maybe. But I'm your impossible, and you're mine. That'll never change."

A weak smile adorned your face. "Promise?"you whispered, voice barely a breath.

"Promise!" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "And that's a seal! Now..."

He swept you off your feet. "Let's get you something to eat. You haven't eaten properly these days."

As he carried you to the kitchen, the tension that had coiled within you began to unwind. The weight of your insecurities and fears vanishing entirely by the warmth of his presence and the unwavering certainty of his love.

#yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez imagines #hurt/comfort #yunho angst #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot

166 notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 3 months

Note

For the celebration (congrats btw!!) could we see the first time that it came up in conversation that Jake had a crush on a mystery girl? However you pictured it happening! Unless it’s too early to reveal it or if you have other plans for it! You can completely ignore this!!

I love your work!!

Aww thank you so much, darling! I love love love this request! I imagine this conversation happening between part 6 and 7 :D Hope you like it!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - Off Limits

Jake Seresin x Reader

“What’s the matter with you?”

Jake looks up from his drink, a little dazed. “What do you mean?”

Bradley gives him a pointed look. “Well, you didn’t even notice the two chicks we passed on the patio on our way in. Twins. You let me crush you at Mortal Kombat. Twice. You’ve barely touched your beer. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t listening to my rant about the pickles.”

“The pickles?” Jake cocks his head in confusion.

Bradley nods. “Mm-hm, the pickles that are supposed to be on this burger.” He gestures at his half-eaten meal.

Jake stares at Bradley for a moment. “Can’t believe I almost missed that.”

Bradley purses his lips sourly and returns his attention to his food. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re distracted.”

Jake looks down at his own plate and mutely picks up a fry.

Bradley, who’s about to take a bite, slowly lowers his burger, watching Jake zone out again as he chews. Bradley smirks, setting his burger down. “Spill,” he demands.

Jake cringes. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Bradley starts chortling. “Who is she?”

Jake sighs uneasily and finally meets Bradley’s gaze. “Uh, you don’t know her.”

“You bang her yet?”

Jake tries not to wince. “No. She… doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” But after two seconds of contemplation, Bradley leans into the table excitedly. “Are you telling me you’re hung up on a chick who has no clue that you’re into her?”

Jake swallows uncomfortably. “Looks like it,” he responds miserably.

“Why haven’t you asked her out?”

Jake glances up at his friend, doing his best not to appear overly guilty. “She’s bad news.”

Bradley’s grin broadens. “I like the sound of that.”

Jake suppresses a groan. “No, it’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

Jake grimaces, staring into his fizzing beer. “I just mean… she’s not an option.”

“Because?” Bradley raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Jake shifts in his seat and looks back up warily. The truth is, he wouldn’t mind talking about you at all. In fact, he’s dying to tell his best friend about the emotional turmoil he’s been contending with since he realized he had feelings for you. But, as luck would have it, Bradley is actually the root of the problem, and consequently the last person Jake should be sharing with. Still, Jake really can’t resist talking about you, given how much he’s lately been keeping to himself. “Because she’s” – off limits – “taken.”

Bradley nods sympathetically. “Been there.”

Jake grips his beer stein and lifts it off the table. “Her boyfriend is a real piece of work, too.”

“So, show her that you’re better. Easy.”

Jake sets his beer back down without taking a drink. “Am I?”

Bradley leans back in his seat with a chuckle. “Oh no,” he says.

“What?”

“You fucking like her, dude.”

“I told you, I like her.”

“No.” Bradley shakes his head. “No, no. You don’t just like her, man. You like her.”

Jake is watching Bradley impassively. “Are you fucking glitching?”

Bradley laughs. “Admit it!”

Jake opens his mouth to protest that he already has, but then closes it again because obviously Bradley is right. “Yes, I fucking like her, Bradshaw. I like her enough to know that she shouldn’t be with me.”

Bradley’s obnoxious cackle has fizzled to a merry chuckle now and he shakes his head with a loud, theatrical sigh. “My boy is growing up!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m so proud of you, man.”

“I said, shut the fuck up, Bradshaw.”

Bradley raises his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he says giddily. “So, tell me about her.”

5k Celly

337 notes · View notes

spctrsgf · 9 months

Text

mi luz

based off of this comment i wrote on tiktok: “he looks like he could use a hug and a shoulder to cry on.”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nonspidey!reader, language, hurt to comfort fic (miguel needs a break. like a sabbatical or something)

a/n: ngl, i'm not too happy with how this turned out, probably because i wrote it all on a plane and it's not beta read, but i need more soft miguel fics in my life!!!

He’s tired.

He’s tired and he’s missing you. The boring, monotonous walls of his office harshly remind him of his place, the jubilant orange glow of his monitors tell him of just how much more work he’s got left before he can finally retire to your world.

Lyla, lounging atop one of his screens, watches him and his glossed over eyes, knowing exactly what the lazy flick of his fingers meant. She sighs, glitching over to bring one of his screens forward. “Miguel!” She yells, scaring the poor man out of his thoughts and momentarily extending his claws. “Lyla, what the fu- what the hell?” He growls, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“No kids are here, you don’t have to keep it PG.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, you got work to do, and if you don’t finish it soon, it'll be too late to get in some quality time with this lovely human,” she shoves the digitized photo of you up and into his face. “Before your next mission.”

He sighs, knowing she was right.

“Daydreaming about it isn’t gonna get you there any quicker,” she flickers to be right in front of his face, slapping a hand onto his nose as if she could actually touch him. “GET YOUR SHIT DONE.”

“Fine, fine! Get out of my face.” He grumbles the second sentence, swatting her away and strolling back up to his screens. His eyes catch on your photo, and he reaches to enlarge it in front of him, but—

“No,” Lyla dissipates the photo before he can even get to it, face twisted in disappointment. “No. Not until you finish working.”

“Hey! Who’s the boss here?”

“Me. Now work.” Lyla glitches out of view with a triumphant huff.

He huffs dramatically, pouting as he pulls himself together. He lets his emotions drop from his face and slides into his stoic mask, resuming the work on his screen. It’s hypnotizing as soon as he gets into it; Lyla must’ve done something to keep him focused, he supposes. She always does have a trick up her sleeve.

In what feels like no time at all, he’s done with his work. With a final, defiant tap to close down his screens, he spins on his heel, ready to leave and go home. Ready to hop in through your window— as much as you hate when he does that— and rest his head atop yours, caging you into where you’re surely stirring something on the stove.

But as he turns, he’s face to face with none other than Hobart Brown. A look to the left reveals his partners in crime; and Miguel knows he’s in for a ride. At least a ten minute detour, as it always is with the four of them.

“What?” His hands come to rest on his hips naturally, trying to become bigger to them as if it would make the next words out of their mouth more blunt and less angering. “We have a slight problem—” Gwen starts, before Pav butts in.

“It's not slight. It’s a pretty big deal!”

“Mate,” Hobie huffs. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m trying my best!”

"Yeah, and that's going great-"

“Okay, stop it, all of you,” Miguel interrupts before they can go down the rabbit hole, trying to keep his already strung thin patience steady. “What’s going on?”

“There’s another fight going on.” Hobie gives the answer blunt, to Miguel’s satisfaction.

“Cafeteria?”

“Main hall. Sector D.”

The huff that erupts from his lips draws a colorful picture of his current emotions as he hops off of his elevated platform. “I’ll fix it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Miles brings himself to stand in front of the man. “We’re not gonna hurt anyone, right?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He brushes past the kid, dismissing him with a shake of the head.

“Miguel. Don’t take your anger out on them–” Gwen tries, but all it gets is his recoil and daunting stalk towards her.

“I will do whatever the–” the swear word is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “I will do whatever is needed, but violence is not my first course of action.”

“Please be nice to everyone,” Pav says, peeking over Gwen’s shoulder. “It’s been a long week for all of us too.”

Miguel sighs and brushes past them, saying nothing. He brushes off their words in silent agreement. He didn’t really want to hurt anyone either.

By the time he reaches where he'd been informed the fight was, there was a mosh pit encircling the brawl, a mass of blue and red and spidermen. He approaches from behind, the tide parting for him as each person registers his presence.

When he meets the pearl in the oyster, the hotheaded spiderman hasn’t noticed him quite yet. He’s got the other spidey— one of the many spiderwomen— beneath him, gnarly fist raised to land another punch. Miguel sighs, grabs the back of the man’s elbow, and dragssss him off.

“Everyone get away now.” His tone squeezes the air out of the room and leaves no room for discussion, not that anyone would dare to object. The spidermen flee the scene before he can even finish his sentence, and by the time he’s turned back to the perpetrators of it all, they’re gone too.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, murmuring a low cálmate under his breath as he moves to regain his bearings. “Lyla,” he waves the said woman near. “Find those spidermen and remind me to get to them when I come back.” She sputters to focus in front of him, dipping her head in an obliged nod before sputtering off again to wherever she found herself needed.

Miguel shakes and unclenches the fist he’s made with his free hand and stalks back to his office, rubbing the palm of his hand where his claws had taken purchase amidst anger.

Sometimes, he regrets putting himself in charge of all of this… shit.

But… he’s the only one who can do it. No one had the vigor, the dedication, the understanding of why and what had to be done to keep the multiverses in line and make sure what happened to him never happened again.

It’s tiring. It takes his nights and his days and chips at his brain until he’s sure there’s nothing left in the expanse of his head. For someone who appears naturally angry, he’s quite good at keeping all the real anger in.

The downside of this: he bottles it all up. But the bottle isn’t big enough, doesn’t last forever, cracks at the seams, and then shatters in a explosion of tears. It enjoys crumpling him into the floor, loves the way his hands shiver in the cold breeze, shakes him to the core and, for all his confidence, makes him doubt.

Lyla’s only seen him like this once, when he couldn’t get away and instead had to sequester himself into his office, not quite getting to hardwiring her nosy personnel to do something else.

No, he doesn’t rely on her, as he normally would with other problems. He doesn’t trust her, he doesn’t even trust himself with post breakdown Miguel, no.

He goes to you.

You. The lovely, kind person he’s had the great privilege of calling his. His love, his support, his everything, or better yet; mi luz. My light. The light at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the world, when he feels like the walls are caving in and there’s really nowhere else to go and nothing more to lose.

You calm him, like you always do. Effortlessly caring, eternally so. Never afraid to give, to let him take and take until he’s stuffed whole. You know little things about him, take the time to learn them. Like where to get his favorite empanadas— much better than the ones in the spidey cafeteria— and that he loves when you press your fingers into his shoulder blades. He loves your massages.

He loves you.

Tapping insistently at the shitty gadget on his wrist, he mindlessly pulls up the coordinates for your dimension. Second nature. He’s walked himself into some obscure corner of the building, but he isn’t processing such mundane things at the moment. He can feel himself slipping, the mask fracturing. He can’t be left alone right now.

You.

The portal is up now, flashing and glitching in an assortment of colors, beckoning him in with its delectable light, like a halo. Miguel wastes no time giving in, diving into the portal and tucking himself tight like a torpedo.

Multiverses zoom by as he glides through hexagons and hexagons, thousands of people in each. Worlds that he keeps steady, safe, perfect. Normally, he’d stop to smell the flowers, observe and appreciate the sereneness of every special home in front of him. Pride himself in the fact that there was a special home for someone to come home to.

But not this time. No, this time he keeps his eyes screwed shut, he wouldn’t, couldn’t get distracted by the novelty. The bottle is cracking now, cracking into long and sharp spikes aching to slice across his chest. He’s so close, all he could get himself to do was focus on his breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out—

The abrupt warning of your multiverse approaching pinches his wrist, reminding him that this whole mess was very much real. He stumbles into your living room with a not so quiet thud, startling you. You drop the spoon you were stirring something with— smells like some sort of sauce, yum— and whip your head towards him.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you before you can even process that it's him, burying himself in your neck and inhaling the calm scent of you, a mix of your perfume and your detergent, so very you.

“Miguel.” You sigh into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist as the initial shock of his intrusion wears off.

He slumps into you, only trusting himself to let out a low grumble of your name.

“What’s going— oh,” your brain puts two and two together. “Oh, Miguel, shh. It’s okay, I got you.”

And he breaks. Because he knows you mean it. He knows you have him. You always do.

The tears are bubbling over the rims of his eyes and splashing down his cheeks, his hands are twisted up in your loose shirt. He’s sure his claws have made an entrance too. One of your hands reaches to turn off the stove, the other rubbing incandescent patterns into his back.

You were always so careful. Never leave the stove on, Miggy. Don’t wanna burn the food. He loves that about you.

“Hey,” your voice wisps in through the fog of his mental breakdown, of the end of the world. “Hey. It’s me. Just me. Your absolute favorite person on this planet.”

“Multiverse.” He manages through sob induced hiccups.

“Multiverse,” You smile, breathing out a soft laugh as you toil him in closer. “Breathe, my love. I have you. Nobody is here but me, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

He nods, lets himself weigh more onto you.

“That’s it, I got you,” you coax. “Get it out of your system.”

He gives all the tears he has to give. He’s sandwiching you between the counter and his stature, but you don’t seem to mind. Your spilling words, mindlessly, talking until he’s done and ready to attach himself to them, the soft baritone of your voice.

And it takes time, but he gets there. He’s in the tunnel, the walls are caving in, he’s believing he's given all he has to give, but you’re there, and you’re telling him no, no you have not. You don’t get to lose, because you have SO much more life to live.

His light.

The tunnel lets up, opens up the walls, lets him bathe in you, in the way your arms are still hooked tight around his waist and you’re going on about how there was a new episode of your favorite show that he had to watch.

And of course he would watch it.

He’d do anything for you, anything you asked whenever you wanted. And he knows, in turn, that there wasn’t a damn thing in this god forsaken reality that would stop you from doing the same for him.

You tell him as much. To his face, into his hair, with the dance of your fingers on his back, in the way you guide him to the couch, when you place down some food and a cup of water— you just cried out your backup supply— and again when you place yourself down next to him.

“I’m so beyond lucky to have you.” He murmurs to you, some fifteen minutes into the episode of your show, something about this dude with a metal helmet and a green baby? He can’t recall the name.

You turn, a smile gracing your features. “You deserve me. You deserve everything the multiverse has to offer and more. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have one less person bothering you.”

“Ah, yes,” you laugh, swatting his cheek. “Like you’re such a nuisance.”

He laughs, actually laughs. It’s nice.

You tilt your head onto the girth of his shoulder, snuggling in tight as your attention is again sucked into the screen.

He smiles dazedly at you, finally feeling at peace.

Mi luz. My light.

is anyone else still obsessed with him or is that just me

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara fluff #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x you #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac imagine #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spider verse

552 notes · View notes

inknopewetrust · 10 months

Text

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #fanficition #x reader #x fem reader #fanfic #x female reader #x female y/n #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac

624 notes · View notes

wonipeun · 10 months

Text

ㅤ ༉‧₊˚ how would enhypen members text you as your boyfriends ?

pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader | genre: fluff, as always! warnings: none! | wordcount: 1.2k words

✶﹒author's note: i'm back, yayyy!!! long time no see huhu,,, i've recently been thinking of writing some headcanons of how enhypen would text when dating, so here it is!! hope you enjoy it!! (*˘︶˘*)♡ there is some kind of glitch with the small font? there are random letters that are bigger, sorry about that, i have tried to fix it like 10 times and it keeps popping up smh. hope it's not too much trouble!!!!

ㅤ

이희승 · lee heeseung ‧₊˚

oh my god heeseung is so in love it's embarassing.

i can literally see him sending flirty texts like "thinking about me?" with the stupidest grin on his mouth, and when you reply with a "yes" he'll start kicking his feet on the bed.

i dont really see him using pet names over text, probably he has you on his contacts as "y/n" and some cute emoji that reminds him of you.

"can i call you?" is probably the text he sends you the most.

heeseung prefers calling over texting, but he's shy about facetiming, especially when you have just started dating.

although he's a bit blunt over text, on calls he's a very veryyyy sweet boyfriend. his smitten voice gives away his love for you completely!!! (>᎑<๑)/♡ even when he tries to keep that "cool guy" image, he just can't do that with you-

"i've missed you" "you did?" "mhm"

oh he is blushing hard!!!!

and so are you!!

you both giggling and all- thisissocuteimsobbing.

ㅤ

박종성 · park jongseong ೀ

he's so well spoken???

he sends you a looong text every morning to remember you everything you have to remember, wish you a good day and say i love you, ofc.

"good morning y/n, have you slept well? remember you have a dentist appointment at 5 o'clock today. i love you 💗"

"good morning my love, sorry for leaving so early today! your breakfast is on the fridge, hope you enjoy it! have a nice day, see you tonight. i love you 💕"

no because park jongseong is the epitome of husband material.

randomly sends you selcas to let you know where he is and what he is doing. and sends another message right after. like "bowling 🎳" or something (pls- 😭).

"have fun!!"

no. wrong answer.

send him your photo. match his energy.

that's the only correct answer.

"*insert your photo here* cooking dinner👩🏻‍🍳"

the moment he sees the photo he's smiling right away! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

"new wallpaper, hehe~" "NO JAY STOP NOT THAT ONE"

ㅤ

심재윤 · sim jaeyun ˖ ࣪ ⭑

jake is clingy even over text it's amazing actually

uses a lot of emojis, but he's starting to use ":))" and "ㅠㅠ" recently as well!

"jake" "i miss youuu" "wru??"

the average waiting time for jake to respond to you is about 2.058 seconds, i.e., the time it takes for the phone to unlock and open your chat.

"omw!!!!" "i'll be there in 5 mins!" "i miss you too my love <333" "wait for me!!"

will always, always make sure to show you how much he cares about you, whether in person or over text. that's why he sends several messages a day, although sometimes he has to hold back to avoid being a burden,,,, (pls tell him he's not he just loves you sm).

the most effective way to make jake happy? send him selcas!! at any time! it will take him a few seconds to answer so he can calm his heartbeat and type correctly, but his answer will always make you flustered!! ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ '⸝⸝ ₎ა

"wow" "woah" "baby omg you're beautiful" "how can you be so pretty?" "and mine" "i'm so luckyyyy" "i love you i love you i love you"

he's the cutest i just cannot handle this

ㅤ

박성훈 · park sunghoon ⊹ ࣪

sunghoon gives me the same vibes as heeseung

but hoon is,,, cuter???

he sends you cute gifs and think is hilarious 😭

"y/n look at this"

probably a picture of a hedgehog wearing a santa claus hat but he's laughing so hard laying literally next to you.

so you can't help but start laughing as well.

he turns around and looks at you with his pretty sparkly eyes and lovely smile.

"it's funny, isn't it?"

tell him it's funny!! he loves to make you laugh <;33

sunghoon is not that expressive when texting, so you can consider his adorable gifs as his virtual displays of affection!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

doesn't want to tell you but he has you on his contacts as "my beautiful girlfriend" or something like that because this man is very much in love.

he tries to be discreet and not look too desperate, but when you both are apart for several days he sends more messages than usual…

"y/n" "i just had lunch" "did you?" "i did" "good" "i miss you" "but not to much" "just a little bit" "i miss you too..?"

he has no idea how to express affection by text please bear with him.

ㅤ

김선우 · kim sunoo ౨ৎㅤ۫ ㅤ֪

you already know what's coming-

kim sunoo is INTENSE

"my baby y/nieeeeeee💗" "i missed you so much today😢" "shall we have lunch together????" "todays interview has been cancelled!" "i want to see you and kiss you and hug you💕💕💕" "right now😤" "so be ready!!!!"

texts cutely!! and uses a lot of emojis too, mostly pink hearts!!

your photo library is full of his selcas…

although it is true that he takes a lot of pictures for engene and posts them on twitter and weverse, he always saves the best one for you ૮꒰っ˃̵///˂̵c꒱ა

give him compliments!!

"you look so cuteeeeee<;3"

GIGGLES

"i do??" "really???" "but y/nnnn" "if you're saying i'm cute" "being you the cutest one on this world" "then i must be really really cute"

lowkey flirting as he confesses his undying love for you.

ㅤ

양정원 · yang jungwon ׅ ࣪ ✧

if jungwon is so active on weverse when talking with engenes, just think of the amount of messages you will receive from him in a single day.

wants and needs to tell you anything that happens in his life!!!

"y/n i've just tried this new restaurant" "everything is soooo good!!" "should we order from there next time??" "i want you to try it"

he really wants to involve you in every aspect of his life!! ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

loves loves loves facetiming before going to sleep!

my condolences to sunghoon, ni-ki and sunoo who will have to listen to your late-night love calls (they're kinda jealous because you both sound so in love ߹ᯅ߹)

sends lots of pictures of things he thinks are pretty or remind him of you.

"look this little kitten i just came across!!" "is so cute!!" "it looks just like you, so i thought of you right away" "like me??" "of course!!!!!!!!" "look at the eyes" "it looks like you!" "...right?" "maybe i just miss you"

he does.

ㅤ

にしむらりき · nishimura riki ♡ ֺ ׅ

he just loves to make fun of you even over text

"y/n" "why do you send me all this texts?" "you really miss me that much???"

he misses you more please keep texting him

has you in his contacts as "girlfriend" and you always ask him to change it because is so unaffectionate, but he loves it because it reminds him he can call you his girlfriend????!!!

"girlfriend has text you" yeah he's so proud of that

sends you 984569 tiktoks and gets upset if you don't reply to all of them individually. also doesn't like it when you react to his messages with a heart instead of sending it as a text!!!! >:(

"if you love me show it properly!!!" "IS ALSO A HEART" "IT'S NOT THE SAME"

sends you funny pictures of you late at night because that's when he checks his pictures of you and always ends up laughing so hard that the members have to scold him.

"nishimura riki" "delete that rn" "NEVERRRRRRRR"

instead you send him nice pictures of him on your dates but he always says he looks bad smh (っ- ‸ - ς)

"what. the hell. is that." "i look ugly" "wdym???" "you look cute" "really?" "yeah" "alright you can keep that one"

maybe he just wants your compliments... 🤭

ㅤ

taglist! (open): @love-4-keum @tyunni @lovr4lix

ㅤ

901 notes · View notes

matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Note

Hey I have an idea for "Get Off My Screen" what if Y/N starts talking to Vox less and less and he is so confused so he goes through her phone to try and figure it out and sees her Instagram announcing a new bf and Vox is soooo jealous but she basically ignores his protests and so life goes on as normal for them both until one day he gets nosy and checks her texts on her phone with her bf and finds nudes from her and then he gets annoyed and lectures her about it which leads to her getting angry and ignoring him but then a few weeks later he checks Y/N and the bf's chats again and sees him threatening her

On a completely unrelated note I luv this series and also definitely need a Vox of my own in my phone cause I can't write or spell for shit lol

You Could Do Better(With Me)

Protective!Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of Alcohol, Nudes, Blackmail, Manipulation

A/N: Okay this was actually pretty angsty, more on Vox's side because he's just dealing with a lot of emotional whiplash- most of which he doesn't really deal with well but he powers through it to be there for you. At this point in time he's kind of certain he likes you, but not that he loves you. Kind of like the: "Oh I'm really fond of this person, I want to make sure they're safe and happy." Without realizing the romantic implications nor how deep the level of attachment really is. So far, Reader's only kind of had a puppy-love crush on Vox but has blatantly disregarded it because well- Vox is fucking dead so what the hell are you supposed to do?? That and Vox constantly gets on Reader's nerves with his shenanigans so even if she gets the Cupid valentines filter when he cranks up the charisma- his stupid hijinks quickly do away with it and make him seem idiotic(cutely) again. The story also has a lot of emotional stuff so if you'd rather stick to the comedy feel free to skip this interlude and the one directly after it.

A/N: Either way, that's currently the pace these two are at- and this is a songfic! If you want to listen to the tune while reading- here it is! "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. The story itself is slightly different from the prompt since I made it centered around how Vox perceived things were going. As always, I hope y'all have fun and enjoy! Happy Reading!

youtube

Vox wanted to pretend everything was okay.

Walking through the halls of the Vee tower, he really wanted to play it off like nothing was bothering him.

And still, he found himself checking his phone for any updates or messages from you.

Day by day you were starting to slowly disappear from his routine.

He didn't notice it at first, how you were pulling away-

It was just the little things initially.

One word replies, emoji spam-

Vox figured you just weren't in the mood to listen or talk.

Did he do something that hurt you?

Up until the point that you both didn't really have any meaningful conversations anymore.

Which, as much as he tried to start anything proper-

It would always fall flat.

Were you still even trying?

He woke up one morning and followed his routine, shooting you a greeting before he started the day.

It just so happened that once he was finally able to check his phone to shoot you a wish goodnight-

You hadn't even replied to his morning message.

He was busy throughout the day, so he wasn't given the opportunity to worry about you.

But now, worry he did.

Vox quickly made his way towards his monitor room despite how late it was.

He went through your files, your pictures-

Wait.

Wait a goddamn minute.

Who the fuck was that?

He glitched slightly when he saw how that guy grinned in the picture.

It reminded him of his own, just so fucking fake.

Not to mention the air the person had around them.

They just exuded a great sense of showmanship and arrogance.

One Vox was all too familiar with.

That wasn't even the first picture you had with that person recently.

And the more the overlord looked, the more worked up he got.

He wasn't sure if it was anger, envy, irritation, or just a mix of everything under the sun.

Holding your waist, hugging you close, in some pictures your faces were so close together that you were almost kissing.

He was glitching in his chair from the emotional overload.

Who did this guy think he was to be able to treat you like that?!

Vox definitely punched a few screens from fury and jealousy.

Come the next day when he confronted you about it-

More like became a clear pain in the ass that you really couldn't ignore-

Making your computer practically unusable even-

Was when you revealed to him that you didn't mean to hide something like this.

You just simply forgot to say anything.

Vox didn't know if that was worse than if you tried to deceive him.

"Geez, so you have a boyfriend now?"

"Oh come on, you act like I'm not allowed to date. I'm a responsible adult Vox, not a kid."

The tech overlord only stared at the screen.

Was that really all you saw him as?

A digital guardian?

Just... someone who treated you like a kid?

He scoffed, he could count more times where he was the childish one.

That was stupid.

Besides that, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

What was this... horrible sinking feeling that was running through his systems?

It was like a weight that made him struggle breathing.

"Vox?"

"I'm still here. Can't believe you would forget to tell me something as important as this."

His claws dug into his armrests, he should've been happy you found yourself a partner.

If that partner just didn't remind him so much of himself.

"I'm sorry okay? I was really busy the last few days."

"The last few days? How long have you even been talking to this guy dollface?"

"Months? Probably? I've known him for a while now, he was the school crush when I was back in high school."

Vox wanted to convince you that this guy was bad news.

A walking red flag if you will.

He... should know.

Vox was at least aware of himself that much.

Still, he swallowed it all back and just replied to you again.

"I don't mind the fact you're off the market, hell- congratulations even! Just don't get into any sketchy shit. You know, anything that could be used against you as blackmail."

"Yeah yeah, I know what I'm doing Vox. Seriously, don't worry about it!"

You simply brushed off his worry, typical.

That just made the suffocating feeling even worse.

He didn't even know where it came from, or why.

"Oh yeah! I've got a boyfriend now!"

Those words replayed in his head like a bullet to the skull.

The day hadn't even started.

And Vox already wished it was over.

This just continued for a while, your presence in his schedule became negligible and Vox was falling back into his old vices.

He became snappy, irritable, just downright intolerable to be around.

The employees were feeling it, the Vees were collateral-

Not even Valentino could placate Vox's current horrid state.

It's been a week.

Vox stopped bothering to message you in the morning.

But he didn't stop checking if you would message him even once or twice.

It was pathetic.

And another.

Vox broke more than a dozen phones from just throwing them around.

He drank himself to sleep every night.

Valentino and Velvette were getting tired of having to dump his wasted ass on his bed every time.

And another.

Vox holed himself up in his monitor room whenever he wasn't needed.

No one could get him to come out.

Not even for food or water.

If he needed anything he would get it himself.

It was a long day of broadcasts and meetings, another monotonous cycle in his fast-paced life.

Vox intended to just drink until he passed out again, but he somehow found himself drunkenly stumbling through the halls of the Vee Tower into his monitor room.

He honestly didn't even know what he was doing this time.

The overlord fought to keep his own head up as he collapsed in his chair.

He glanced over to the side your computer's screen was connected to and let out a shaky sigh.

God, he fucking missed you.

Against his better judgement, Vox connected himself to your devices again.

He went straight to your playlist and just pressed start.

Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor~

Vox spun around in his chair, letting the music ebb and flow into his brain.

He took another swig from the bottle of alcohol in his other hand, squinting at the screens.

Everything was just kind of fuzzy.

Reaching for the phone cause, I can't fight it anymore...

It took him by surprise when one of the screens showed your living room.

Had you connected him to your TV again?

"Vox...? Are you there?"

And I wonder if I've ever crossed your mind?

He was too out of it to properly say anything, Vox couldn't recall if the words that stumbled out of him were even coherent.

"Dude... you look like shit."

Listening to your voice gave him a slight moment of sobriety.

"Likewise dollface."

For me it happens all the time...

"Are you wasted??"

"Erm, not really. Just buzzed."

He was able to take a good look at you then, your eyes were red and puffy like you'd just been crying.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now...

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Uh... well... you know that guy I was dating?"

Vox took a swig of alcohol before he replied, there was no way he was making it through his conversation unless he was drunk out of his circuits.

"My personality copycat? Yeah, what about?"

Said I wouldn't call, but I've lost all control-

"Your personality- what??"

"Dollface, do you seriously think I wouldn't notice how much of a walking red flag that asshole was?"

You paused as he took another swig of his drink, Vox didn't miss that look of guilt and pity in your eyes.

"But you just called him your copy."

"And? I know I'm a piece of shit. Takes one to know one."

And I need you now...

"Whatever, I don't think you'd stoop as low as he did."

"That's for me to judge, what did the bastard do?"

He saw the slight tremble in your posture, your voice cracked as if you were holding back sobs.

And I don't know how I can do without-

"I- I knew I should've listened to you. I sent him compromising pictures and he... he-"

"You sent him nudes and he used them to blackmail you didn't he?"

You flopped back down on the couch and his unfocused eyes met your watery ones.

So that's why you'd been crying.

I just need you now...

"It doesn't feel good to have your trust broken by someone you gave your heart to I'd reckon."

You scoffed at him, wiping away your tears as they continued to fall.

Vox so badly wanted to make it stop, but he didn't trust himself to be lucid enough to say the right words.

"Well wouldn't you know? I'd bet the women over there would throw themselves at your feet."

Another shot of whisky, can't stop looking at the door...

Vox couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not that made it seem like he heard jealousy in your voice.

There wasn't any reason for you to feel envious anyway.

He took another swig of alcohol before meeting your gaze once again.

Wishing you'd come sweeping, in the way you did before~

"So what if there are? I'm too busy to pursue a dedicated relationship. I mean- have you seen the amount of shit I have to deal with every day?"

You looked dejected by his answer, or at least that's what Vox thought.

Yeah, he was absolutely wasted.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

"So what did you do? Did you break up with the guy?"

"Can't. If I do, he'll release all my pictures online."

Vox hummed, pulling up a window on your computer for you to interact with.

He was a paranoid man as is, but this just proved it didn't hurt to have precautions in place.

For me it happens all the time...

"What is that?"

"Something I made for all your files months ago."

"What does it do?"

Vox took another swig from his bottle.

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now...

"A safeguard, all files you send from your devices can be irreversibly corrupted remotely. An encryption thing, I tried to tell you about it but you didn't respond."

He wasn't surprised that you pressed the prompt to start the file corruption process on those pictures you'd sent.

Hell, everything you sent the rat bastard that broke your heart.

Honestly, the fucker didn't even deserve you.

Neither did Vox if he had to be honest with himself.

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control-

The overlord stayed silent as he drank once more from his bottle of booze.

It was nearly empty at this point, not that he cared.

He could only assume you were watching the progress bar load which was why you didn't say anything.

And I need you now...

Vox just watched as you eventually got up and used your phone to call someone.

A smug smile worked onto his face when he realized who you were talking to.

After all, you'd only curse like a sailor when you were genuinely mad.

And I don't know how I can do without-

"You're kind of hot when you get angry you know?"

"Pfft, is that why you like to piss me off then?"

"Maybe, though I usually do just to get a reaction out of you anyways."

I just need you now...

Vox saw you roll your eyes, a smile finally gracing your face and he couldn't help but return it.

"I just became single again and you're already hitting on me huh?"

"Whaaaaat? I would never."

Vox humored you well into the morning hours.

The both of you talking once again like old times.

Like nothing even happened.

Eventually it got to the point you had fallen asleep on the couch right in front of the TV during one of Vox's stories.

The overlord let a soft genuine smile appear on his face at the sight.

At least you were okay again.

He swirled the remaining alcohol in the bottle and threw his head back as he downed the rest of it.

Finally feeling the exhaustion catch up to him, both emotionally and physically-

Vox's screen dimmed as he succumbed to slumber right alongside you in his chair.

A/N: HOOOOLY SHIT THIS CHAPTER IS LONG- this was an absolute UNIT of a segment but it gets better in the next one I promise, besides- I don't want to doom Vox and Reader by the narrative, that would just be a sucky ending. We'll still have more emotionally vulnerable stuff in the next interlude so if that's not your cup of tea feel free to skip it too.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

383 notes · View notes