#and they have heart holographic on them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sha-n-dowbannedlol · 2 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara — Love Sick

a/n: i've been slaving over genetics (and biochemistry) lately, and when i was scrolling on tiktok during my break i saw this one superbat imagine and thought of writing it with my favorite geneticist

cw: uh just fluff ig, miguel o'hara is not good with feelings, miguel o'hara is emotionally constipated

You haven't always had the best of luck in your life.

It wasn't so bad that it made you hit rock bottom, but you've had your fair share of moments where you ended up drawing the shortest end of the stick in the game we all call life.

And as you stare at Peter's hand balled to a fist, and yours with two of your fingers pointed out, his hand forming a rock and yours forming scissors, you quickly conclude that this is one of those moments.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't put losing to Peter in rock, paper, and scissors as top 5 of the worst moments of your life; however, this is different. To explain just how different it was, we need to go back to a few minutes ago, the reason why you and Peter had to play in the first place.

Not long ago, you received an alert from the Spider-Man 2099 himself asking for backup. You didn't bother to respond as Jess had already reassured you that she's got him—as it turns out, she, in fact, does not have him when she teleported back with an unconscious Miguel draped over her shoulder.

That, in itself, is already worrying enough. But what worried you more was Lyla's report on your boss' situation, relaying the information to Miguel's inner circle of most trusted Spider-people, including you.

"He's been hit with a love potion, an incredibly potent one at that," Lyla reports, her holographic form adjusting her heart glasses and typing away on her holographic computer. "It hasn't kicked in yet, but it will the moment he wakes up," Lyla adds before looking up from her computer, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the huddled-up spiders

"And when he does, he'll be head-over-heels in love with the first person he sees," The AI informed them in a serious tone, before grinning like the mischievous rascal she is.

"So... Who will the lucky person be?"

It has been decided amongst your group that whoever loses shall be the unfortunate soul that needs to deal with Miguel's affection until Lyla and the other Spiders have concocted an antidote for everyone's admired boss.

And now, you stare back at your hand, then at Peter's, and back at your own hand again. Silence fills Miguel's spacious office as all eyes land on you, and you can feel your cheeks already starting to warm up.

"Can't we just blindfold him?" You spoke before anyone else could, looking over at the holographic AI, who seemed a bit too pleased with the results. "Or lock him in a room or something?"

"Don't be so barbaric," Peter spoke with amusement in his voice.

"Right. Besides, it can't be that bad!" Lyla spoke, her voice with a hint of something that you can't quite put your finger on. Mischievousness? Teasing? Hinting at something she knows but you don't? You didn't know for sure.

"I think Miguel would prefer being locked in a room than being lovesick for an entire day." You respond with a sigh as Peter practically drags you toward where Miguel is currently lying unconscious, and you have no other choice but to let him.

You were a person of your word. You can't possibly back out now just because you lost.

You tense slightly as your spider sense alerts you that Miguel is starting to wake up, feet glued to the floor when he starts to stir.

"You'll be fine," Jess tried to comfort you with a poorly hidden amused smile on her face, followed by Peter patting your back, and you didn't have to turn around to sense that he'd already whipped his phone out to record the whole scene.

The whole room was tense, or perhaps it was just you. Ice ran through your veins the more Miguel moved, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as his hand moved to rub one eye before finally, finally.

His eyes flutter open.

Ruby red irises land on your form, and you can see a hint of your reflection from his intense gaze. The first person he saw as he awoke.

He stares at you in silence, gaze glued to yours, raking over your visibly tense form as you stare back at him. His face remains neutral, and you're already bracing yourself for his affection—may it be in the form of verbal affection or physical affection.

Miguel then leans forward to sit, before slowly standing up.

You watch as he takes steps toward you, his hand already rising and about to reach out. Your heart skips a few beats, trying to beat right out of your chest to meet his own halfway.

When he was closer to you, you tense up even more, ready to be pulled into his arms...

Except... he just slipped past you.

The hand he raised earlier ran through his hair, his eyes now on Jess.

"Mission report," Miguel demanded in his usual neutral, gruff tone as everyone looked at him with jaws dropped, all dumbfounded by his casualness.

The drowsiness seems to have left Miguel by then as he looks at everyone. He raises a brow in confusion as he notices everyone's stupified expressions and Peter's phone still pointed at him as if they were expecting something from him.

"What?" He asks, brow still raised.

"That's... This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Peter was the first to speak, begrudgingly putting his phone in his robe's pocket.

"Peter, I'm already not feeling well." Miguel responds, brow scrunched as he turns to face Peter, "I have no time for your antics, and that goes for you, too." He adds, pointing towards you on the last part.

Lyla's hologram hen shows up on Miguel's shoulder, bent over and examining Miguel's face, a hand on her chin as she hums. Her boss raises his brow again at this, trying to shoo her away, only for her to keep insisting.

"You were hit with a love potion, Miguel. Quite a potent one, too." Lyla informs the man who's looking at her with a skeptical look in his eyes as she continues, "I calculated its effects would include being down bad in love with the first person you see when you regain consciousness."

Miguel blinks at that, his eyes landing on you, and you recognize the flicker of understanding in his gaze as he does before looking back to Lyla and to the disappointed Peter and the less-visibly disappointed but still very much disappointed Jess.

"Well, it didn't work." Was his simple response, which caused a groan to resound from Peter and a shake of a head from Jess.

"Come on, not even a bit?" Peter asks, looking at Miguel with narrowed eyes. "Look at them, don't you feel like pulling them into your arms and kissing them until the sun sets?"

"First off, that's highly inappropriate," Miguel responds, his hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge in between his fingers to nurse a headache already starting to come up. He says your name exasperatedly, "Please don't mind him. You know how he is."

Before Peter can voice out the offense he took to Miguel's words, Jess speaks up with curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"But how come it didn't work?" Jess asks, her brows furrowing in confusion, looking at Miguel, whose face remained neutral despite her questioning. "Lyla was so sure it affected you, and it affected you enough that you lost consciousness, and suddenly it just... didn't have an effect?"

Miguel clears his throat at that, subtly looking to Lyla to give Jess an explanation that would sate her curiosity and make her suspicions die down, but you suddenly spoke to his rescue.

"Perhaps it has something to do with his DNA?" You infer, humming softly to yourself, "His DNA is different from ours, and most of the time, he's immune to potions and poisons because he isn't human enough to be affected by them. Right?"

Your eyes meet Miguel's as you ask for confirmation, and your breath hitches at the sheer intensity of his gaze as he looks back at you. Still, this wasn't anything new. Miguel can be kind of intense and intimidating, even if he doesn't mean to.

"Pretty much." It was Lyla who confirmed your theory on behalf of Miguel, and before anyone could speak, Miguel swiftly interjected.

"Alright, the show's over." He spoke, looking over at everyone and individually giving instructions in order to get all of you off of his back.

"Jess, I need that report before the end of the day. Peter, weren't you supposed to go home early today? Look after your pregnant wife." Miguel spoke before turning to look at you, "And you, I have a mission for you."

One by one, the three of you leave his office, with you being the last one after he briefs you on the mission with Lyla's assistance. Miguel's eyes were glued to your back as you left, much to your obliviousness.

"It worked, didn't it?" Lyla coos suddenly, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly and snap his eyes from your figure and towards his holographic AI.

"What worked?" Miguel tried to feign innocence, looking away from Lyla as he turned toward his many screens.

"The Love Potion. It worked." Lyla continues to tease him, grinning at him knowingly as she lays on her stomach in the air, kicking her feet. "You're just so in love with them already that it didn't make a difference."

Miguel remained silent for a while at her teasing words, but the reddish tint blooming on his tan cheeks was enough of an answer to the AI already. Besides, she's the one subjected to Miguel's eyes, always following you around like a lost puppy whenever you're in the room.

"If you tell anyone, I'm shutting you down."

"No, you're not."

".....No, I'm not."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

855 notes · View notes

peaachypie · 7 months

Text

Video

Warning :

(camgirl, masturbation male and female, mention of porn video)

Miguel is a stressed man.

Always working, doesn't have time to rest properly neither to go outside and have his way with women.

But it happen, sometime when finaly sit on his chair to have a small break.

Ding !

Turning his blood red eyes to his phone he stare at the notification.

"@.peachie♡ is on live ! Don't miss it ;) "

When he click on it, you were there all smiling and welcoming everyone with those revealing clothes. Even a blind person could see your nipple through the fabric of the shirt. You were smiling, saying how much you missed your fan.

" you're so pretty !"

" spread your legs for daddy sweet girl..."

" can't wait to see those tits bouncing "

It was the comment you always had. You never answers to them. If they wanted to, they need to pay and Miguel knew it.

Some people might say it's easy money, or dirty money but for you it was just money. Doesn't give a shit from who it's from and how you make it.

You were talking about thing most people don't listen but he did.

Miguel always listen, he never comment.

He just listen.

@.Miguel_Ohara send 2k to @.Peachie♡

" thanks you Miguel ! Aw so...so sweet !"

You clap your hands, bending over to " see " the notification. Your breast exposed from the position. Miguel doesn't use his money for himself ... why not for you ?

The night keep going with that.

Miguel send money and you show some part of yourself until it was interesting for him and the others viewer.

" h...haa...t...thanks Miguel...!"

You breath heavily, as your finger move inside your hole with wet sound coming out.

Miguel watch, sighing against his teeth before looking down at his crotch. His aching cock pulsing against his holographic suit.

The sound of your moan and whine echo in the empty office as he let his cock break free in a small whimper.

He comment in private. He doesn't want people to see his public comment. It wasn't the first time you talked with on in private chat and it was where he mostly ask his request. He doesn't let his need come often, but when he does. He does it good.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you read the paragraph he send you, the way he describe you and the dirty talk but in a polite way. It was a lot. It was too much. It was often odd for the viewer to see how you played with yourself when someone gave you money, almost like if it was boring for you but when it come to him, everything was so much better, so much powerfull.

They couldn't see what Miguel told you, but by the expression on your face, it was good.

Miguel moves his hand on his cock, his thumb stroking his tip as precum would slowly run down his lenght. His eyes were almost close, as he let escape some whimper from his lips. Bitting his bottom lips to hold himself.

Watching you pleasure yourself was so pretty to watch. Hearing you cry his name and the fast " thanksyouthanksyou " you said everytime you reach an orgasm was music to his ears.

His start moving faster on his throbbing cock. His was so desesperate, he wanted to come with you, to come in you.

To watch you cum in person as you would thanks him for giving you his hard cock.

He scratch his desk with his talons, his cum coming out on his hand and lower stomach.

When he turn back his eyes to the screen, you were breathless, making a heart with your hand.

" thanks you all for watching ! See you next time ♡"

The live end on this.

Miguel take some time to think, to have some rest from his lewd activity before his phone ring again.

Peachie♡ send you a message :

" You're one, even THE only one always here and you send me a lot. You're a good fan♡

I was thinking that ... If one day you want to make a video with me, it would be my pleasure ♡"

His eyes widden at this message.

A video with you ? Did he wish too hard ?

His face goes hard again when his holographic assistant appear.

" aw come on big guy, you could have dress yourself !"

" Lyla, shut up please. I'm tired."

" too tired to do a video ?"

She says with a teasing grin as he groan in a slightly annoyed expression.

" I don't have time for video or whatever it is."

He clean himself and dress up, standing ready to leave for his apartment in Nueva York.

" you have nothing on wednesday ..."

He turn his eyes to the " innocent " face of his assistant. He leave in silence.

@Miguel.Ohara : are you busy on wednesday ?

@.Peachie♡ : i can be busy with you :)

@.Miguel.Ohara : you're gonna be.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse

2K notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Text

🎊 twst 4th year anni ABEMA stream 🎉

***TWST JP news + anniversary spoilers below the cut!***

The stream starts with Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, and Sebek's VAs replying to a bunch of quiz questions. I think Ace or Deuce responds with "810" when asked how many items there are on the Heartslabyul lounge's coffee table. Sebek's VA also has a hilarious answer when asked how many Draconians (wakasama fans) there are, he pulls out some super absurdly high number with tons of zeros in it.

There is then a Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles-type section where the VAs decorate their own cake for TWST's anniversary. It’s a team effort! Ace and Deuce put on the cream, Sebek added cookies on top, and Jack and Ruggie did the final decorations. It ended up looking pretty cute ^^ (Ace's VA is the one that added all the whipped cream peaks; it was mostly thanks to Ruggie's VA that the cake still looked aesthetically pleasing at the end.)

Actual game-related news time!!! The SR Grim card for the 4th anniversary is... drumroll please...!! 🥁Apprentice Chef Grim!!! ABGKSKVUkvuDSQEVUOFDFIHAFVA HE'S SO CUTE, HE EVEN HAS A LIL TUNA CAN CAKE 😭

For anniversary, there will be a series of free items given out if you log in during the event period (11th to 25th), which includes THREE 10-pull keys (released on the 11th, 15th, and 18th, respectively). You can receive up to 12 days' worth of freebies. There will be an anniversary banner as per usual; you can earn tokens by pulling on this and then trade them in for a SR magical key (50 tokens) and/or past event-limited SSRs (150 tokens), including past years' birthday cards (100 tokens). There will be a new "Event Recollection" feature which allows you to experience events that you may have missed getting the initial chance to play through yourself.

Mr. S's Mystery Shop will sell items from past events such as limited Groovy materials and spell upgrade materials. This is called the "Memory Shop".

You will be able to mark (multiple) parts of the story as your "favorite". This will be indicated with a pink heart icon.

Battles will have a new feature which allows you to save team compositions for them. Up to 25 compositions may be saved at a time. You can also pin your supports, so you no longer have to scroll to find a specific friend's character to borrow.

There will be 3 new item gachas added to the "Item Lotto" of the shop (for Crewel, Vargas, and Trein). Previously, there was only Sam's. You use a new type of medal (obtained by taking classes) to roll on the teachers' lottos, and can pull items related to what you'd typically earn in each of their classes.

Crewel's gacha may provide an herbal tea which can be used to boost Buddy Levels, including those for characters that are otherwise unable to take Alchemy classes. That means Crowley, Rollo, etc. are fair game. (Yes, you can force feed them tea to obtain FRIENDSHIP✨) The tea may also drop during Special Lessons or Alchemy class.

We finally get magical key conversion! On the summoning screen, you can turn 10 single pull keys into one 10-pull key (which guarantees at least 1 SR; single keys do not have this benefit).

The Guest Room will receive a second floor to decorate. This will be unlocked once you reach a Guest Room rank of 31.

The Guest Room rank cap will be increased from 30 to 40. Additionally, all properties of floor 1 appears to carry over to floor 2. This means the same comfort level and attributes will be present across both.

New BGMs will be added to Mr. S's Mystery Shop. There will also be new voice lines added to Alchemy, Flying, and the outfit selection screen. The official TWST soundtrack will be released on the 29th of May, though preorders are tentatively open now. It is 140+ tracks (149, to be exact!) across 4 discs and goes for 4620 yen (inclusive of tax; without tax the soundtrack is 4200 yen). Japanese retailers are offering different dorms' A5 sized holographic sticker sheets as bonuses for preordering.

That's it for now, mostly quality of life changes! There will most likely be a 4th year anniversary PV/animated short on the actual anniversary day (the 18th)!

571 notes · View notes

lxkeee · 2 months

Text

IT'S BEEN SO LONG

-PART THREE

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Adopted! Fem angel! Reader [platonic!]

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

genre: fluff and cute

notes: a little bit short but meh

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR ❘ NAVIGATION

“Now... Where's that body...?” [y/n] muttered, looking at the golden holographic map that was coming out of her wrist watch, a blinking dot flickers on the holographic screen. She scrunched up her nose as the scent of smoke, dust, and blood fills her nostrils. I do hope my father is living somewhere far better than the streets of hell, this place is nasty. She thought before shaking her head.

She looked up ahead to see the hotel by the cliff, looking back at the hologram—it seems the body is somewhere by the hotel.

“You have got to be kidding me.” [y/n] muttered underneath her breath. She looked around—no one in sight, with a snap of her fingers, her angel wings disappeared along with her halo that transformed into a golden Laurel wreath that is on her head. Her usual white and gold dress transformed into a plain black one.

“There, I think this is a good camouflage.” she murmured to herself, adjusting her sling back before eventually beginning to trek the cliff towards the hotel.

Finally arriving, she got a good look at the name of the hotel—Hazbin Hotel, very witty, she thought.

“Isn't this the hotel Charlotte Morningstar made? If she's Lucifer's daughter, then does that mean she's my younger step sister?” she wondered before shrugging. Deciding not to knock on the hotel doors and go straight to where Adam's supposed dead body is—which is buried underneath a pile of rubble somewhere a few meters away from the hotel. Truly sad to see but the man got it coming—he was an asshole, to think he was the first man and the first soul to go to heaven but died in hell.

Why do we need to bring him back up again? Oh right... God's favorite.

[Y/n] sighs loudly, moving her hand over the hologram and a keyboard appears. Her fingers danced across the screen as she requested some angel workers to retrieve it.

She sighs, turning back to look at the hotel behind her. Now to get a report on what exactly happened, she thought. I wonder if dad is there? She wondered to herself, she really wanted to see him and hug him, she truly missed her father after all.

Her heels clicked the cement pavement as she walked back to the front of the hotel, climbing up the few steps of stairs till she finally reached the tinted glass front doors.

Maybe I should wear my halo? To let them know I'm from heaven?

She thought and hummed before nodding to herself, snapping her fingers and her halo was once more on top of her head, glowing in angelic pride and power.

She took a deep breath, I can do this. She thought before curling her fingers into her knuckles, bringing it up and then knocking on the glass doors.

Knock, knock, knock.

Charlie stopped talking to Vaggie and Alastor when they heard a knock from the front door, Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly. A visitor or perhaps a guest?!

“My~ it seems we have a guest, dear.” Alastor grins, leaning against his microphone, “Perhaps after the extermination, it gave hope to these hopeless sinners.” he added, his smirk widening.

Charlie grinned, she too hoped that would be the case.

Vaggie placed a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, giving Charlie a reassuring smile, “You got this, babe.” she says and Charlie nodded, adjusting her clothes to look presentable.

With a deep breath she walked towards the door, trying to calm her excited heart.

Charlie finally held the handle of the door, opened it and.... A woman slightly taller than her is standing outside, a smile on her face and wait a minute, is that a halo?!

Charlie's eyes widened, she can practically feel the woman's power radiating off her, dare she say it's stronger than Adam's.

She's nervous, almost scared even. What is an angel doing here?

“A pleasant evening, are you perhaps Charlotte Morningstar?” the woman asked, her voice gentle and smooth to the ear, it calms Charlie down. Making the princess of hell lower her guard a bit before she shakes her head. I need to be on guard, I don't know what she wants and I need to be ready.

Charlie took a deep breath before giving the angel a smile, “Yes, that is me! Is there something you need from me? I didn't know heaven would be sending someone today.” she says and the angelic woman chuckled.

“It was so sudden that we couldn't send an advance notice.” The angel chuckled softly and Charlie just looked at her in confusion.

“But to make things easier, I am here to collect Adam's body and also collect data to file a report of what exactly happened during the recent extermination.” The angel says, sighing and slumping her shoulders. Charlie could tell that the woman was annoyed by the situation.

Charlie looked at the woman with slight hesitancy, “Is that all...?” she asked, nervously and the angel nodded.

“Certainly,” She smiles before her eyes widened and she gives Charlie a small and short bow, “How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am [Y/n], one of heaven's messengers. It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Morningstar.” [Y/n] says with a smile, offering her hand for a handshake in which Charlie returned. Charlie shivered slightly as she felt how cold the angel's hands were.

The name certainly rings a bell to Charlie, she swore she heard that name before then her eyes widened, don't tell me..? The name, the very cold hands... Is this the girl her dad was talking about?

“Are you... My dad's adopted daughter...?” Charlie questioned, her voice almost a whisper and [Y/n]'s eyes softened.

So he does remember me. [Y/n] thought, a smile on her face.

“Yes, that is indeed me, so dad talked about me huh?” she answered and asked and Charlie's smile widened, her big sister is here!

Charlie chuckled, “Yeah, he told me about you recently.” she says with a shrug and [Y/n] giggles, “Well, at least he didn't forget about me.”

Charlie smiled, moving away from the door so [Y/n] can enter, “Of course, he didn't. Oh, please do come in.”

[Y/n] nodded with a smile, “Thank you.” she says and enters the hotel.

“Do you want me to tell him that you're here? Do you want to see him?” Charlie asked, guiding the angel through the hotel's hallway that leads to the lobby where the bar is.

[Y/n] smiled, “Please do, it's been ages since I've last seen him.” she says, almost pleading and Charlie smiled, whipping out her phone to text her dad before returning it back to her pocket. Her dad is back at the palace as he had some things to get from his room.

“I am sure he misses you too, how about we finish that report while we wait?” Charlie suggested and [Y/n] nodded, “That's a good idea.”

Lucifer was in his room, arranging some things into a box. He heard his phone beep and opened it to see a text from his daughter.

Come back to the hotel as soon as possible, someone wants to see you and it is someone important.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, wondering who could possibly be looking for him. He shrugs, they can wait.

He returned his phone back to his pocket and continued on putting the rubber ducks inside the boxes.

Another beep was heard and he sighed, opening to see another text from Charlie.

If you're wondering who could possibly be looking for you, their name is [Y/n];)

Lucifer never teleported so fast in his entire life.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @avitute @lbcreations-blog @dreamzaremyrealityy @des-deswain5621 @snoozewritezz @uiquz @randomuser-89 @flowerboy4eva @apollobeans @des-deswain5621 @sirenetheblogger @astitikeslay

#lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x female reader #lucifer morningstar x you #Lucifer morningstar x reader platonic #lxkeee writes

519 notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months

Note

maybe miguel with shy spider girl who never holds eye contact with him and he calls her to is office alone for info and she’s just a mess? idk 😭😭

“Miguel wants to see you.”

You smile at Peter B. Parker. It is not a natural nor authentic smile. “Sorry,” you say, “what?”

“Miguel, the big guy! He wants to see you. You reported that weird bubble on 265, right?” Peter’s chewing on gum obnoxiously, seemingly unwise to your panic. Mayday giggles in his arms. “He wants your opinion.”

“I've never spoken to him.”

Peter laughs jovially as Mayday climbs up his front and almost topples down the back of him. “He's a nice guy, you'll like him. Hey, you want some gum?”

You take a stick of gum but don't chew it, the strip of Juicy Fruit powdering your fingers as you ride the elevator up to Miguel's laboratory. You barely know where it is, only that it's in a general direction of which you've never walked in. You haunt the dorms and the library rather than the workshops, content in your quiet life (as quiet as it can be, considering). Every step you take down the red lit hall to his lab is brimming with the want to turn back.

There's a platform set on the floor decorated by computers. You can't tell what's holographic and what's physical, but Miguel O'Hara is undeniably solid. His shoulders alone look thick as a tree trunk where he stands in the midst of it all.

You know it will be less painful to just… say hello. You put your Juicy Fruit in your pocket and clear your throat quietly.

“Mr. O'Hara?”

He waves his hand at you without looking. “Miguel is better. Come here.”

You struggle up onto his raised laboratory. Would it have hurt to build a step?

“Spider-Girl from earth 1421. Yes?”

“Y/N,” you say. “Yeah, that's me.”

He looks up at that, like your name is a curse word, or a surprise. You meet his eyes for as long as you're able to before your gaze crawls to his chest.

“And you saw the distension on 265?”

“Distension… um, you mean when the air looked like it was bubbling?”

“What were you doing when it started? Just give me a run down.”

You clasp your hands together tightly. You feel silly in your suit because somebody convinced you that it was okay to wear stuff on top, so now you're in this big silly hoodie while Miguel stands waiting in his officials. You'd always thought it was nanotechnology, but closer it seems more like a fabric with chameleon technology, or—

“What were you doing when it started?” he asks again, softer now. “You're not in trouble, I just need to get a sense of what happened.”

“I know, I– we were there to– to–” You wince. “To capture an anomaly, Doc Ock 83.” Your hands start to tremble, you're so nervous. “But we had a hard time finding him, he wasn't doing much, and the– bubble started not long after getting there.”

“Was it a precursor to anything? Did something significant happen after it began?”

“Um–” You can't think. What happened? You'd been standing on the street between the last reported sighting of the anomaly with your small team. You're a competent bunch but you only ever get called in for the weak guys, and you weren't sure what to do when things got weird. “I'm sorry, I don't know.” You peek at him, worried he's going to snap at you.

“Just take some time to think about it.”

He smiles —Miguel smiles at you, a juxtaposition to every rumour you've ever heard about him— and takes a step toward you, gesturing at your hoodie. You freeze up, worse when his fingertips point at the hem of it.

“Do you have your drone?”

You flush a hundred degrees hot and pull your hoodie up your chest to click the panel of your drone where it dents over your heart. It breaks free, flying up into the air above your head on automatic. Miguel grabs it out of the air and takes it over to his computer, where he syncs the sim and looks through your recordings. He isn't so cruel as to play them without permission, deferring back to you.

You raise your hand and tap the file.

It starts with you talking to yourself. “There's no… what alley was he…” You scrub forward to the middle of the video, just before the distension begins. “Hey, do you see that?” you ask your teammates.

Miguel leans forward. He's standing very, very close to you, and he talks quietly so as not to overcloud the sound on screen, “Here. Does this jog your memory?” he asks.

You look away from him again. But, now he's asked, and now you've seen it, there was something unfamiliar. “After it appeared, the anomaly changed. Doc Ock didn't look like himself. I thought I was seeing things, but here–” You rewind the video and point at the outline of Doc Ock against the bubble. “See? He's different. He looks paler.”

Miguel glares at the screen in concentration. Your comparison must impress him, though it doesn't solve the problem. “Alright,” he says as he copies the file from your drone. You summon it back to your heart. “The next time one of these is reported, I want you to come with me.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Because six people went to that dimension and only one of them flagged this. You have a sharp eye. When you deign to use them.”

You bring your gaze up in a rush, “I– I'm just nervous–”

“I know.” He smiles at you again, not at all the prey versus predator grin you'd imagined, but a more private smile as though you're sharing a joke. He looks at once like a normal man. Is he flirting with you? “Keep your communicator on, hm? I'll call for you.”

“Okay.” You don't know what to do, so you offer him a smile of your own. “See you then.”

He chuckles into himself as though he knows something you don't. “See you, nerviosa.”

You wouldn't need to know Spanish to know he's teasing you.

978 notes · View notes

cheralith · 10 months

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all.

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble.

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals.

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired.

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight.

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening.

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them.

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh.

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week.

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions.

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity.

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event.

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity.

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely.

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue.

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly.

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again.

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight.

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 11 months

Note

STAR TRIPPING, blurbs ─── send in a character + a prompt from the lists above and I’ll write you a blurb!

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ + miguel o’hara

hiii angel! thank you sm for the request, I cheated again and changed the dialogue a bit just to fit his character more!! love you xxx

miguel o’hara x gn!spider-person!reader, fluff, ditzy!reader, miguel being a grumpy worrywart tbh

You’ve messed up on a mission more times than you can count. You’re clumsy, you’re a bit on the uncoordinated side despite being a spider-person. And Miguel talking in your ear every five seconds makes you flustered. He’s got a nice voice, rough around the edges but smooth and velvety where it counts. And he’s never on anyone’s case as much as he is on yours, so every time he utters a command into your earpiece or tells you to watch out for a falling piece of building you almost trip on your own feet.

After yet another mission where all you did was get in the way, you make your way defeatedly to Miguel’s lab for a post-mission briefing. You know for sure he’s gonna bring up the fact that you stopped to tie your shoes in the middle of a fight, and he’s definitely gonna mention how unprofessional and dangerous that was. But listen, having untied shoelaces is a danger in itself. Especially when you’re the type of person to trip on tied shoelaces.

Miguel’s back is to you when you enter his lab, orange and blue holographic screens projected in front of him and around him. You don’t get to glimpse what he’s watching because he swipes it away with one hand as soon as you’re close enough to see, the screen disappearing into thin air like magic.

“Hi, Miguel,” you sing, as charmingly as you can, hoping to get out of a scolding.

Miguel sighs audibly, like your very existence irks him. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Uh, oh-kay, you don’t sound happy to see me,” you say, mocking offence.

Miguel turns to face you. He’s extraordinarily handsome, even when he’s scowling like he is now. The urge to push your thumb between his brows and smooth out the grumpy wrinkle there grows stronger every day.

“You’re right, I’m not,” he agrees, completely stoic. “Who ties their shoelaces in the middle of a fight?”

You huff. “Uh, me? You know I could’ve tripped on them, right?”

“Why d’you even wear shoes in the first place? They just get in the way.”

You roll your eyes and skip over to his desk, ignoring his question and instead entertaining yourself by going through the stuff on his desk. He’s not messy but he doesn’t necessarily keep it organised — there’s papers and gadgets and devices all over it just begging to be dug through. “You’re so grouchy.”

“You’re so careless. Don’t touch that.”

You pull your hand away from the important looking device with about a million buttons on it that you were about to pick up, giggling to yourself. It’s fun, annoying him. He’s all bark and no bite, especially when it comes to you. Maybe only when it comes to you. He’ll gladly let you know how much of a nuisance you are but never seems to actually do anything about it. Peter B. says it’s because he’s deeply in love with you. You say he’s just a big softie at heart.

“Look, Y/N,” Miguel says, and you know he’s about to go on one of his telling-offs. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you sit in his spinning desk chair and sway it side to side, the toes of your shoes skimming over the floor. “You can’t be so careless. It’s stupid. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Yeah, right. Death by shoelace,” you murmur to your shoes.

Miguel groans loudly. You look up at him. He’s turned away from you, pinching his nose with his head ducked, mumbling to himself what sounds suspiciously like curse words in Spanish. Even though you can’t understand what he’s saying, you can tell by the tense in his shoulders that he really is annoyed, not just fake annoyed like he usually is with you.

You mull it over in your brain. You could either one, deny you made a mistake, probably annoying him further and getting yourself kicked out of his office, or two, admit you messed up, which would hopefully get him to stop being so grumpy for once, and you can stay here as long as you please. You sigh and decide to admit defeat.

“Miguel?” You say into the silence, sweet as you can.

“What?” He snaps, still with his back to you.

“I’m sorry for tying my shoe in the middle of a fight. It was dumb. And I’m sorry for … getting in the way all the time.” You hop up off your seat and walk towards him, hoping he’ll turn at your approaching footsteps. When he doesn’t, you add, “Would you look at me? I’m trying to apologise here.”

Miguel turns around then, swivelling on his heel to face you. You’re close, close enough that you could reach out and touch his abdomen, his chest. You don’t, though you’d like to. Instead you give him a soft smile and your best I’m sorry eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” you say sincerely. “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Miguel stares at you, completely stoic apart from his eyes, which are significantly softer than usual. His frown stays put but his eyes go all melty, like they’ve been glazed with honey, and the furrow in his brows softens just slightly. He looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth, changes his mind and closes it, then opens it again.

“Are you giving me puppy dog eyes?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “‘Cos that’s not gonna work on me.

“I’m not giving you puppy dog eyes,” you argue, even though you totally are. “I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Well, you’re forgiven,” Miguel says abruptly, shrugging his shoulders. “Just … please try to be more careful.”

You think he’s done with you until he reaches out and presses his thumb to your jaw in what you think is a show of affection, the pad of his thumb sliding down the length of your jaw, then a brush of the back of his fingers under your chin, a trail of burning hot stars left in his wake. You think your whole face might be on fire, but it’s over as soon as it starts, and Miguel goes right back to scowling. “And stop looking at me like that.”

He drops his hand and turns away from you abruptly, pulling up a holographic screen with a list of anomalies yet to be caught. You don’t comment on the implication that his last sentence has made — that your I’m sorry eyes really had been working quite well on him — but instead spend the next five minutes in a shocked sort of silence, the weight of his touch still present on your now burning face.

1K notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 11 months

Note

We are all reunited today , for one amazing cost. And that is. The web of secrets. We are starved children. We need to be feed. That is all I have say🫡

~🌊

Thank you so much for your comment little wavey 🌊 Here's a small lil' taste of part II Webs of Fate for you guys. Let me know what you think. ❤️🕷️

In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.

His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.

"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.

"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”

He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.

"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."

He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.

"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."

"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.

You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."

“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.

“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”

“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“To be forgotten,” you whisper.

He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.” He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.

Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence.

He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.

#miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #spider man #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #oscar isaac #spiderman fanfiction #sneak peak

2K notes · View notes

jymwahuwu · 7 months

Note

I was wondering. . What if scenario where darling finally escaped jing yuan by dying and jing yuan had felt all emotions at once anger, furry, sadness, despair, agony. He just cant move on from darling he waited and waited for her next reincarnation and. . Finally after so long of waiting she was finally here standing, breathing and alive

And his not so kind once he kidnapped darling once more and had locked her on his (their) shared bedroom then he just basically fucks darling to the hell and back after so long and he makes her cum and darling felt overstimulated and had kept crying to him to slow down and trying to push him away because who in the right mind would suddenly pull a strange onto some person's house then fucks them into oblivion?!

(Basically idk why im horny or maybe its because i have a period idk anymore-)

From Cloud anon!

thank you cloud anon<3 hesitant to write this…but i love the thirsty ending 🫣 for Jing Yuan, if his clingy and sweet side can't keep you… he doesn't mind getting rough…?

CW: yandere, angst, non-con, kidnapping, overstimulation, (mentioned) death in the past

(The relationship between the reader here and Jing Yuan’s past life is described in a rather vague way. Please DON’T send me requests and comments about angst and take revenge on yandere. I’m tired of receiving those 😭 Please read the rules.)

That's a really rare concept for long living species; life blooms in the spring and withers in the winter. Jing Yuan placed flowers on the coffin, and… still… worked and lived as usual, arranging Luofu's daily affairs at the seat of divine foresight. People whispered- they said, Look. The general is so ruthless. His only lover in centuries had withered like a flower, and he was unmoved.

Jing Yuan knows that he can still live as usual, but there is an empty gap in his heart, which often aches, but he still chooses to keep you in his heart instead of letting time pass by. No loss can cause Jing Yuan to stagnate, he just lives with wounds. He regretted not leaving more holographic records and replayed the few videos you had, over and over again. "mm- Jing Yuan-" Your lips parted slightly, a record of a time when you were so annoyed that you blocked the camera with your hands and giggled while eating ice cream. That was - that was when you liked him, right? The general sometimes wonders - are you tired of him pestering you like that? He apologized, apologized, apologized bitterly - but you wouldn't hear it again. In the end, he still couldn't keep you, you flowed away between his fingers like floating sand. What had hundreds of years left for him?

Reincarnation - Jing Yuan really found you, in another galaxy. In the dim light, you are standing on the street, laughing and chatting with your friends. A familiar frown and a sweet smile, and when talking about interesting topics, the clear and sweet laughter leaked out. Similar facial features, similar movements and expressions are the imprint of the same soul. Jing Yuan suppressed the urge to take you away immediately, knowing that he must first find out your identity in this life. He removes every possible obstacle and takes you away.

Locked up in a room, in the general's mansion. Since you didn't like being able to travel freely among the stars in your previous life.

To you, you who have no information, this is really the cage that abruptly descends. Be sent to the Xianzhou ship by the people of your planet. Your hands are locked with a bunch of locks made of solid space material, but they are wrapped in plush fabric as if to prevent your wrists from getting hurt. The burly man with long white hair, said to be a general named Jing Yuan, caresses your body desperately - desperately. Lots of sticky, dazzling kisses. His tongue dipped into your mouth to search. Tears…tears? This mysterious man doesn't shed tears when you look at him, it's like the tears have dried up. Your thighs and calves were tied together and spread apart, forcing you to expose your most private parts and squirt on his thick fingers for hours. Orgasm is no excuse to stop. After your struggles and twitches, those fingers didn't slow down at all. The cock is buried deep inside you without any suspense after the warm-up is completed. The tight walls contracted and the liquid spread outward.

You are confused - confused, orgasming in pleasure, wanting to push him away (but your hands are tied), asking who he is and why he treats you like this while still maintaining your senses, and all you get is silence. It was the silence of not wanting to repeat the old dreams. From behind, his entire crotch is pressed against your ass, and even your hands are pressed by him, rocking and pounding you back and forth, occasionally kissing your cheek in a daze. Face to face, staring into your eyes, the lower body is closely connected. On top, you were forced to ride him, swinging your waist. From the side, a strong arm lifts one of your legs and slowly inserts it. In front, sucking and servicing that cock for hours. Seed and fluid oozed from the connection. There are two trembling vibrators stuck to your nipples. What a mess.

After making up for some of the love he hadn't had in hundreds of years, the general felt more at ease. Jing Yuan's hands wrapped around your shoulders and waist. You wanted to hate him so much- hate him, but he read you bedtime stories and space. He prepares rich meals for you, toys to relieve your boredom, and kisses your forehead. He promises to take you out, but not now.

Not now.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

621 notes · View notes

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 3 months

Text

Do you long for having your heart interlinked? (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 2

Hiiii! Part two as promised, not proofread. Once again, heavily inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049. And there will not be a part 3, but enjoy regardless!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, Miguel being all mad scientisty at the beginning , Miguel being a bit of a perv at the beginning if you squint, talks about cutting of synthetic flesh, Miguel being a sad and desperate man if you squint a bit harder , Slight existentialism. lmk if I miss anything.

Word count: 2.2k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

“Miguel?”

His shoulders tensed up upon hearing your voice ring through his office, despite your inability to appear in the room, he always got nervous that one day you’ll end up just popping up in the middle of him working on your physical form.

“Yes?” His voice low, thick with concentration as wipes some sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief he had tossed to the side of his desk. Careful to not bump his glasses as he kept his eyes focused on wrapping the synthetic skin around your left hand, apart from the nails, it was the last bit of your arms that needed to be completed.

“It’s currently 2:24 am, you need to rest.”

“Tomorrow is my day off, I’m fine.” He replied, putting down his black marker and removing the faux skin from around the arm, placing it flat on the table as he picked up his exacto knife and began to prepare to slice off the excess skin. He needed to make sure to cut off the right amount, not wanting to cut off too little and having waste parts he could use on the rest of your body, it was almost as if he was vinyl wrapping a car.

“You still planned on going to HQ tomorrow, you need to rest.” Your words were only met with silence. “Miguel I’ll cut the power if you don’t leave that office of yours and go to bed, you’ll be insufferable tomorrow, you're even more cranky when you don’t get enough sleep.” You scolded him, Miguel’s lip twitched upwards at the mental image of your left hand on your hip with the other pointed a finger at him, your coding making non-existent wrinkle lines appear where your brows furrowed together, and next to your lips as you frown at his inability to take care of his own needs without you to remind him.

“Alright alright…” He mumbled, taking in a deep breath before blinking some sleep out of his eyes, you knew him so well. “Let me finish up, I’ll be out in twenty minutes, tops.” Instead of a verbal answer like he was expecting, he got the sound of your hologram being deactivated. Letting out a small amusement exhale from his nose when he realizes that you were physically waiting for him outside of his office door. How cute…

He was able to finish the arm up in sixteen minutes, placing the finished arm next to the other one, from the fingertips to the shoulder, packing them away properly in a briefcase that resembled those a musician would put their instrument in, he pondered on what part to work on next. Should he develop another external body part? Your legs, your torso? You’d be anatomically correct of course because he knows that’s how’d you’d want to be (and not for completely other unrelated reasons), or maybe on one of your internal “organs”, though completely made up of wiring and metal he wanted it to mimic the human body as much as he could.

“Miguel, it’s been twenty minutes.” Your voice apparently brought him out of his train of thought, making him rush to the door before you fulfill your threat of shutting the power, you’ve done it before on him.

“Alright, alright… I’m going…” he grumbled under his breath as he made his way to his room.

—

“I sent Hobie and Gwen to deal with that anomaly on Earth-A145… Jess wanted to speak to you about training for that new recruit you’ll be meeting tomorrow… and we’re gotten the thumbs up on reopening sector 6 again now that the repairs from last week are finished.” You read off your mini report from your holographic tablet, sitting on the edge of Miguel’s desk as you swung your feet as you looked back up at him. You were always in your smaller form around HQ, finding it easier for your system so you don’t get overwhelmed too quickly or easily.

Miguel replied back in a hum, his eyes trained on the screens in front of him, zoning in on watching the two spider-teens take down a Doc Ock variant pressing his lips together as he tries to keep his mind from wandering, he’s been having trouble with that recently. Letting out a grumble when he heard the faint sound of your screen dinging, internally groaning at the conversation you were both about to enter.

“Miguel…” You glanced at your tablet again, “your vitals are off again, Miguel.” You noted as you tapped around, your brows frowning together as you scowl lightly. “They’ve been like that for the past few weeks… did you want me to make an appointment with your doctor?” You asked as you looked back up at him, watching the way his nostrils expanded slightly as he exhaled out from them, shaking his head light.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not necessary.” He mumbled softly, lifting a hand in the air to wave off the concern, making you let out a huff of frustration, before phasing out and reappearing in front of him with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. Miguel went to wave his hand through you, it passed through your programming as he silently told you to go away, his frown growing slightly deeper when he realizes that wasn’t going to rid of you.

“Miguel, don't start. Ever since a few months ago when you started to lock yourself up in your office at home, I’ve been starting to worry about you.” After your sentence, the tablet dings again, his heart rate, but you didn’t even glance at it as you look up at him.

“You don’t have to say that.” He responds automatically, his go to respond when you express concerns about him or compliment him in a way a human would. It made his heart skip a beat and sink simultaneously. Despite him overriding your original code, you were still meant to simulate romantic emotions. No matter what, that would always still be attached to you, and it didn’t help Miguel’s rapidly worsening pining for you.

“I know, I want to.” You’d always reply.

If only you knew you were the reason behind your own concerns.

“I’m fine, I promise.” He reassured you in a clam yet commanding voice, his hand going to play with the little metal spider figure on his desk that Peter had brought him one time after a mission. Your eyes narrowed towards him for a split second, before going back to their neutral position, your lips twitching up in a smile, you choose to believe him.

“If you say so, Mig.” You said before phasing away.

He let out a small hum, his lips curving upwards slightly as his eyes shifted down to the metal spider. It would be a nice addition to the metal heart he was about to start building…

—

“Morning Miguel.” The sound of your voice always helped put a smile on his face before he even opened his eyes.

“Good morning.” He replied in that same raspy voice he always did, slowly getting up and out of bed to stretch before starting his morning ritual. Groaning slightly as he felt his vertebrae pop back into place.

“I’m already warming up your coffee,” You said as your coding developed in front of him in your full size, watching as he twisted his torso to pop his hips, before going off to his restroom to get ready for his morning. Today was one of those rare days where he was off from his normal day job at Alchemax, and although he never true gave himself a day off, spending those spare days brooding up in his secluded area up in the HQ tower, watching dozens of screens to make sure that the multiverse didn’t collapse under his watch, but today was special, so he had Jess watch over the society for the day.

“Today’s a special day, (Y/N). You know why?” He asked, sipping on his coffee, as he glances at your presence in his kitchen as he waits for his bagel to pop out from the toaster behind you, a plate already waiting next to the cream cheese and a spreading knife.

You just tilted your head to the side, that once-in -a-blue-moon look of confusion crosses your face as you quickly look over his digital calendar for the day in your internal system only to be met with nothing. Because he purposely left it off, just to see that adorable rare look on your digital features. It was written on a sticky note in his home office instead.

January 14, 2099. (Y/N)’s activation date.

That was two years ago now, exactly down to the day. Miguel finally let out a chuckle when you eventually shrugged your shoulders, waiting for him to tell you.

“Today is the two year anniversary of you being my assistant.” He said as the sound of his breakfast finally popping up, you moving aside to get out of Miguel’s pathway despite his ability to phase through you, knowing how he feels weird about it.

“Really? It doesn’t quite feel that long for me.” You comment as you watch him complete his meal before taking a bit out of the still steaming thing of bread, watching the way the cream cheese slowly starts to melt and drip down onto the plate from the hole in the center of the bagel.

The concept of time to you was a thing you really only understood in theory, it felt like almost… a bubble. On the inside was Miguel, or humans in general. They were born, they celebrate each year when the earth does a full rotation around the sky, they grow up, grow old then they eventually die. Everyday they walk up, usually around the same time, go about their day as they attempt to stick to a schedule before going to sleep. Miguel will leave to work around in the morning, stay till afternoon and slave himself away till tiredness seeps itself into his bones or until you nag him to sleep. Whereas for you, you just kind of… woke up one day for a lack of better words, not how Miguel does though, you don't get tired, you don’t need to rest. Sure, you could overworked your system, you “sleep”, but sleep for you was when you weren’t being useful to Miguel, it’s almost like how you’ve read up how humans experience sleep, expect when they’re minds become free to dream about whatever their hearts long for during their R.E.M cycles, you just become enveloped in nothingness. There is no pitch blackness, no foggy stretch of infinite void for you to wander. Just that, nothingness, and just like humans forget 90% percent of what they dream of at night, you forget what it feels like when you are temporarily shut off. Despite living outside of that bubble of a timeline, you attempted to mimic it when you could, just to indulge yourself from time to time. For him, it felt exactly like those 730 days had passed, to you only a few rips of the fabric of time and space. Time was a man-made concept after all.

Miguel has noticed you’ve been using the word feel more. Despite your lack of a psyche, it felt like you were only growing more sentient by the day with Miguel’s help, on occasion encouraging you to come up with an original thought or opinion when he could coax it out of you.

“It has.” He continued as he finished his breakfast, placing the dirty dishes in the skin and the food items back where they belonged in the fridge. “And, I got you a gift.” Your face returns to that wonder, making Miguel’s lip curl up into a smile.

“You did?” You asked as you watched Miguel leave the kitchen with a response, waiting a moment to see he’d come back, going to zap to his location when he didn't, only to be met with the sight of his office door instead. Frowning as you wait for him.

The frown quickly became replaced with shock when he finally opened the door only to be met with the sight of you, it was you in the form of a robot. You slowly bring your hand out to go and touch it once he brought it through the doorway, your holographic form glitching through your new physical one as you pass it through your face. Bright wide eyes going from it to Miguel as he speaks again, a soft smile covering his features as he looked down at it with pride, your robotic form, eyes closed, head dropped down in front of you and arms hanging loosely by your side, the same way moments before you were first were booted up two years ago.

“You can use it around the house or whenever you feel like when you want to accompany me on non-Spider-Man related errands. Around HQ or during my patrols though it would be best if you stayed in your digital form.” You stayed quiet as your hand ghost over the fabric of your outfit, he even made sure to replicate the one you’d always wore. He cleared his throat as his eyes shifted to you. “Did you want to try it out?”

“Please.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x ai reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #miguel ohara spiderman #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #Miguel O’Hara fanfic

253 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 7 months

Text

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

DAY ELEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

pairing: fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance

summary: you and tess go in to dismantle a cult, neither of you were expecting to find a rugged fallen angel being experimented on.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: possessive!joel, piv, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, violence

a/n: this was heavily inspired by miyazaki's on your mark music video! also we're almost add the end babes, only one more to go, isn't that exciting!

Ash sticks to your skin. The air is warm and damp, the scent of it churning your stomach and making you want to vomit. You observe the city as the aircraft inch closer to a particularly fancy and tall building. Purple and blue neons bleed into the night sky, blurring the sight of the stars. Both you and Tess are standing at the edge of the opening, ready to make the jump down below. You look at her and she nods with a fleeting smile.

“Let’s get these fuckers,” she says, her voice modulated as it echoes in your earpiece. “See you on the other side.”

She extends a fist and with your heart still beating madly in your chest, you bump it. Without speaking, she counts down, one finger going down at a time. Your gaze flits between the building and her hand, sweat building at your temples and sliding down your spine. You’ve heard of this place before. A religious cult famous for abducting people and in some extreme cases experimenting on them if they refused to follow the leader’s guidance.

The last finger goes down and you both jump in unison.

Your visor comes down, blocking the vicious wind from cutting your skin. Tess is slightly ahead of you, her helmet also fully materializing around her skull, brunette hair fluttering at her neck. The mission was simple. Go in and arrest who you can find, shoot those who resist.

The two of you touch down on the rooftop of the target building and quickly pull out your weapons. Tess leads the way as you both enter the building through a concealed access point. The interior pulses with a neon-laden atmosphere, where every corner is bathed in vibrant, shifting hues. Holographic information displays punctuate the surroundings, casting an ever-changing cascade of colors across the sleek, polished surfaces.

You and Tess navigate through the dimly lit corridors, guided by the faint hum of machinery and the eerie whispers of cult members echoing through the halls. The air is thick with tension, and every step feels like a potential trap. It almost feels like a labyrinth with the way the halls constantly turn and twist, you faintly hear Tess cursing from underneath her visor. You share her sentiment.

Moving deeper into the building, you finally encounter the cult's followers. They wear a strange blend of traditional robes and cybernetic enhancements, their faces obscured by eerie masks that display holographic symbols and patterns.

The confrontation escalates quickly. They don’t even have any weapons on them yet they jump you, before you can start shooting one of them gets the better of you and knocks you to the floor. Tess is there in an instant, a laser blade to the throat is all it takes for the person to go limp on top of you.

The room erupts in chaos but it doesn’t mean much to either you or Tess. This wasn’t your first mission together, and the two of you had adapted a fighting style that complimented each other’s strengths. The deafening blasts of energy illuminate the room with dazzling bursts of color. Bodies fall, and the cult's resistance begins to crumble.

You press on, determined to reach the heart of this twisted cult. Along the way, you discover hidden chambers filled with bizarre experiments and technology. You take a mental note to come back later on and investigate. The air is thick with the smell of chemicals and the unsettling hum of machinery. Tess makes a sharp turn and you follow, entering a dim room. More cult members attack you, they look like scientists, they fall just as easily as the rest.

“What the hell is this place?” Tess mutters, walking ahead and looking around. A blue hue coats the entirety of the room, the sound of liquids making up for most of the background noise.

You notice a table right in the middle and without a second thought you head towards it, ignoring Tess’s warnings to be careful. Something draws you to it. To him. Your pulse quickens as you notice a man lying on top of the metal surface, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. His chest is bare, the lower half of his body covered with a thin, dark pair of sweatpants.

He’s beautiful. Rugged features scorned with cuts and bruises, but still stunning. His hair is a mess, lips chapped. He’s barely breathing, a sudden worry surrounds your heart, turns your stomach sour.

“Hey, check it out,” Tess says, walking around the table. Her hand moves over a lifeless wing, feathered and dark as night. You hold your breath, eyes going wide. “Do you think these are real?”

You don’t touch the wings, feeling like it might be disrespectful to the handsome man. You eye them warily and think about all the things these maniacs must’ve done to him. “They look real to me,” you murmur. “What should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we bring him with us surely the government will experiment on him too,” you point out. “He’s been through enough.”

Tess drops the wing and raises an eyebrow, “You in love with him or something?” she shakes her head. “We really need to find you some good dick.”

“That’s not what this is,” you hiss, cheeks burning up. “You know it’s not right. He can stay at my place.”

“And you think they won’t come looking for him?”

“They can’t look for something they don’t know that exists.”

Tess contemplates your words for a moment and you worry this might be where she draws the line. Her kind eyes flit between you and the half-naked man, then her shoulders drop, yielding, she lifts her hands.

“Fine, let’s get this hunk of meat out of here.”

However, neither you nor Tess had calculated how heavy he would be.

“Holy fuck, how much does he weigh?” Tess groans, holding him by the ankles. You had your hands tucked under his armpits, barely keeping him from dropping to the steel ground.

“Maybe the wings add to it,” you answer, short of breath. Using the strength from your knees, you jerk him up so your arms can get a better grip. Sweat beads at your temples and slides down your cheeks. “Fuck—”

“He’s gonna suck your fridge dry,” Tess huffs. “All the gadgets in the world and not one to carry a heavy. . . what is he? A damn bird?” she shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.”

“If you could shut up for two seconds,” you say, gasping for air. “This might be easier. Besides, we’re at the door.”

“Oh fuck, we actually are.”

Tess manages to kick it open and you both peer down the rooftop, you hold on to the unconscious man tighter, scared he might fall.

“What now?” you shout from over the wind.

“Now,” Tess says, her gaze meeting yours, she flashes you a smirk. “We jump.”

Despite the multiple rules you’ve broken by taking in Joel—a fallen angel he’d explained when he woke up, much to your disbelief— to your home a week ago, your mornings start surprisingly calm. You have a small apartment and as you head to the kitchen, you watch the trickles of the morning light warming the floors. You enjoy these silent hours in the city. No bright neon light burning your eyes, no constant buzz of huge billboards humming in your ears; just the sun, the soft sound of birds chirping and soft wind carrying notes of clattering dishes.

You fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove, turning the flame on to let it slowly come to a boil. While waiting, you reach for your favorite coffee mug, the one with a chip on the handle that you can't bear to replace. As you retrieve the mocha pot from the cabinet, you notice a slight, fleeting shadow out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see Joel standing in the doorway, his wings tucked neatly against his back. He hadn’t been able to open his wings fully yet, his wounds too deep to heal.

A sudden anger simmers in your soul. The things he must’ve endured and all for what? For a bunch of people to feel good about themselves? For the to find out how to be immortal? All of it was absolute bullshit.

You pull out another mug.

His dark eyes meet yours and you swallow, a shudder rolling down your spine, “Good morning,” you choke out, pouring some ground coffee into the mocha pot's filter basket and assembling the pot. The soothing sound of the kettle on the stove fills the room as you watch Joel walk closer, his steps nearly soundless.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, standing right behind you. His presence frying your nerves and making your hands tremble. “What’s that?”

“Coffee,” you answer. You place it on the stove and turn on the heat. “I’m making you some too. You can try it,” then you turn, eyes going wide upon noticing just how close he is. His eyes bore into yours, observing your soul and every inch of your face. Your eyes trace the bridge of his nose and linger on his lips; so lush. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip entices you to come closer but you hold your ground. “Are you hungry?”

He nods, eyes untrusting.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I’ll make us breakfast. How are your wings feeling?”

He licks his lips, “Better.”

You nod and look towards the fridge, your lips pressed tightly together. He finally backs away, allowing you to prepare an omelet for the both of you.

Joel silently watches as you crack the eggs and mix in the basil, tomato, and cheese. He watches as you pour two cups of coffee and bring out the plates. He watches as you sit and finally turn to look at him; still standing in the kitchen, watching. . . observing.

“Come sit,” you say and pull back a second chair. “You watched me prepare it there’s no poison in it promise,” you give him a playful smile and you swear the corners of his lips twitch.

He sits and picks up his fork, you cut the omelet in half, sliding it over to his plate, “So since you never had coffee before I didn’t put any milk and sugar in it, you can taste it and if it’s too bitter I can add some.”

Joel picks up the mug, his wings slightly raising in alarm as he sniffs the hot beverage. He raises a brow, eyes meeting yours, “How do you drink yours?”

“With lots of milk.”

“I feel like that defeats the purpose,” he closes his eyes and takes a sip. He smacks his lips slowly, eyes fluttering open to give you a look. “Not bad,” he says. “I like how the taste alerts me.”

“Well,” you answer with a smile. “Don’t have too much of it or you’ll be up all night.”

“Who says I’m already not?”

You stiffen at the words, meant to be a playful quip turn real in mere seconds. Joel seems unaware of the sudden pressure forming in your shoulders, around your spine; he bites into his omelet, moaning at the taste—which adds a whole different kind of pressure. . . mostly gathered between your legs.

“Can’t you sleep?” you ask silently, looking down. “Because of. . . what they’ve done.”

Joel lowers his fork, lifting his gaze in hopes of meeting yours, he furrows his brows upon realizing your downward-looking lips and your eyes that don’t meet his.

“That’s a small part of it,” he says, the soft authority of his tone bringing your gaze back up. “I remember those moments in bits and pieces, they come and go. . . It’s the fall that still keeps me up at night. ”

“The fall from. . . heaven?”

“Yes.”

And that’s it. He continues to eat, continues to drink until all of it is wiped clean in front of him.

“Let me clean your wounds,” you say and stand up from the table. Joel hadn’t been able to fly at all since you and Tess busted him out of that hellhole. He had been reluctant to treatment but realized quickly that he needed modern medicine if he was going to get better. “I’ll be right back.”

When you come back you find him sitting on his usual stool. It was high enough so that his wings wouldn’t drag across the floor. He sits silently, eyes like those of a hawk as he watches you place the supplies on the coffee table. You start by delicately peeling off the old bandages, ensuring they don't cause any pain or pluck a feather. The only sign that he feels any discomfort is the rapid pace of his breathing

You find that you enjoy these moments of vulnerability. Some part of you doesn’t want him to go.

“Sorry,” you mumble, crumbling the old bandages and throwing them to the floor for later cleaning.

His spine straightens, “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” a moment of silence stretches between you before he speaks again. “You saved me.”

“Tess did too,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips. Those two had been butting heads as soon as Joel woke up.

“She told me on multiple occasions that she would’ve left me to rot.”

“That’s how Tess cares.”

“Humans still confuse me.”

You snort and begin cleaning the wound, he winces a bit, “We’re not all bad.”

You’re happy to see that he’s nearly completely healed. His red, wet wounds from before now a tender pink. Your eyes move up to his neck. You’ve always stared at his neck since the very beginning. It reminds you of the columns of old temples that now lay in ruin thanks to the new world. His sun-kissed skin is a temptation, your lips tingling with the need to feel bare skin, wondering if it’s as warm as you thought.

“I don’t think I should bandage up the wounds anymore, they should breathe,” you murmur, your voice coming out hoarser than you thought. “But still, you need to be careful.”

Joel doesn’t say a word but his wings twitch as if they can sense your sinful thoughts. Maybe they do. You have no idea how angel powers work, or if he has any.

He’ll leave soon, you remind yourself. You’ll be alone again.

You don’t know what it is that guides your hand, but you realize in shock that your fingers start to dance along the exposed skin of his nape. Indeed it is as warm as you thought. You feel the way muscles tense under your touch, hear his heavy breathing.

Reality comes crashing in and you pull away with a sudden flinch, an apology ready at your lips—

He’s fast. Inhumanly so. Joel takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you to his lap, you fall sideways with a sharp yelp. The angel doesn’t say a word and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You shudder at the touch of his lips. Whimper at the way he runs his nose down your collarbone.

“I can smell the arousal on your skin,” he drawls and tastes your skin with the flat of his tongue. “I can taste it too. Such a sinful little thing.”

“I—I’m—” You’re what? Sorry? You don’t feel sorry.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You don’t have to. . .”

Joel snorts, “I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he answers, he grips at your shirt and tugs you down while grinding up, the heft of his cock rubs against the swell of your ass. You both groan at the contact. “You feel that? You feel what you’re doin’ to me?”

Your heart leaping, you guide his hand to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes flashing with desire, he slips his fingers under the fabric, you shudder at the drag of his fingers between your folds. Joel burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his chest rattling with a growl.

“So wet,” he musters, the pads of his fingers stroking your throbbing clit.

“Now you know what you do to me.”

His wings suddenly stretch out from one side to the other, making him look even larger if possible. Your eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You imagine if you stare at them long enough you could see stars.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. He pulls his fingers out and holds your waist in an iron grip. You whimper at the loss. “You don’t know me. This ain’t a game.”

“That’s right I don’t,” you answer. “I only know what I feel. And what I feel, Joel, is something I’ve never felt before. Something that both excites me and makes me want to run and hide because soon enough, I’m going to have to deal with it all on my own. You’ll be gone and I’ll be here, trying to gather the pieces of my bleeding heart.”

You think you might be imagining it, but his wings become a shield, caging you in. His gaze seems almost broken. Distraught. He mumbles something inaudible. Your brows furrow and you ask him to repeat himself.

“My wings are healed. I lied to you.”

You think you misheard him but at the same time you know you hadn’t. You blink rapidly. You don’t understand, how can be healed?

“You can fly?”

“I can, sweetheart.” he pulls you closer, your covered nipples grazing against his firm chest. Your breath catches in your throat. “I lied to you because. . . I don’t want to go.”

“Joel. . .”

“You still want me?” he asks, cutting you off, voice rueful. “I’m selfish. I get what I want and do anythin’ to make it happen. Why do you think I was cast out? Not exactly one of god’s favorites.”

You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks. His voice deep, dripping like sweet molasses. You brush your lips together and his chest heaves, his grip on you tightens, his cock throbbing.

“You’re my favorite,” you whisper.

The dam breaks.

You find yourself bent over the low coffee table, the wood creaking under your weight, your cheek smooshed against it. Joel holds your arms behind your back, rutting against your ass like some wild animal in heat. Arousal pools between your legs and you feel a fresh wave of wetness spreading within the threads of your underwear.

“Do you even know how to fuck?” you ask, hoping to gain some kind of edge despite the obvious difference in strength.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d be surprised.”

He pulls down your sweats and the heft of his cock weighs heavily between your ass cheeks. Slick gathers between your folds. A soft whimper trembles in your throat. You can’t see him but you can imagine him looking down at you, seeing how desperate and needy you are. Joel parts your cheeks and presses forward, his cock gliding between your soaked tighs. He groan rattles in his chest and you feel the bulbous head of his cock stretching your entrance.

“Oh god. . . Joel. . .”

A choked-out sound drops from your lips as he wraps his fingers around your throat and pulls you up, it’s harder to breathe in this position, your body bent in a way so that your eyes can meet. He kisses your forehead.

“Not god,” he says, thrusting forward and filling you to the brim. Your face goes slack, brows pinching with pleasure and a hint of pain. Your moan is loud and long, your eyes still glued to his. You shudder at the intimacy. “It’s just me, sweetheart. No one else. I’m the only one that get’s to fuck this pussy—the only one that gets to see your face like that.”

You lick your lips and breathe heavily. When you nod, Joel releases you and you fall forward, bracing yourself with your elbows at the very last second.

“Look at you,” he groans, large hands stroking your cheeks. “Do you even know how soft and warm your insides are?”

He doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls back, your body is set a flame, pleasure building and winding you up like a doll. Your thighs shake, he just watches you drown in your lust. He’s intrigued, you think, because he just waits with the head of his cock still inside. You wiggle your ass, hoping for him to move, to fuck you senseless.

You’re reprimanded with a sharp smack to your ass but you welcome the pain, embrace it.

You can’t see it yet you feel it. The vicious drip of his spit on your stretched-out hole. You shiver and your eyes roll back into your skull, his thumb traces where you two connect, smearing his saliva, “J—Joel, please,” you beg but you know it’s futile. He’s going to take you apart only to piece back together.

“You still think I don’t know how to fuck?” he hisses, a cruel taunt you didn’t expect. You shake your head and close your eyes. Another smack follows, prompting the clench of your cunt. He groans.

Joel finally gives you what you want. What you need.

His pace is brutal, fast and hard, desperate, just like you feel. He knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust, the smack of his hips bruising. Joel has no shame in the voices he makes, he groans, moans and fucks you harder, forcing you to be loud with him. When you let out a particularly high-pitched whimper, he covers your body with his own like a blanket and ruts into you. His wings rustle and shake, the tip of it touching your lips before it moves away. You see bright starts when he grazes upon a particularly sensitive spot, your jaw dropping and body tensing. He mouths at your neck, hand sliding between your legs, the pads of his fingers brush against your puffy clit—

A knock. A loud one at that.

The sound startles you both into stillness, and you let out a hiss from under your breath. You’ve forgotten that Tess was going to come by. Apologetically you reach back and manage to squeeze Joel’s thigh, your fingers sliding over the muscle from sweat. Joel understands that this will have to wait but instead of letting you go like you expected, he lifts you up from the coffee table, your back flush against his chest. You both face the door and another knock follows, your body tensing.

“I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you for no one,” he groans, pushing even deeper. Your head falls to his shoulder and your nipples tight. “She can come back.”

“Joel, she might hear us,” you hiss but make no move to actually stop him. You feel him smirking against your skin. He slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you—hard. Your body jerks and you cover your mouth last second before a moan can slip out.

“That’s it, just keep quiet and she’ll be none the wiser.”

Tess’s voice calls out your name through the door and knocks again, louder this time. Your eyelids flutter, your orgasm rapidly building from the thought of being caught. If Tess decides to break the door, which you don’t put past her, she’d see you in your full naked glory; your breast swaying with every ruck of Joel’s hips, your face dazed as you attempt to keep your noises to yourself. . .

“You’re so fuckin’ wet—you’re turned on, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you like the idea of your best friend seein’ you gettin’ your brains fucked out?”

You don’t dare answer and instead, you just take it. His fingers toy with your clit, swirling and drawing shapes over and over until your entire body is trembling and your core is tight. Joel’s hips stutter, pacing frantic, “Yes yes yes yes—come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you so bad, come on, that’s it—that’s it—”

It happens both suddenly and torturingly slow. Your body locks up and you squeeze around him, gushing and moaning helplessly into your palms. Your nostrils flare. Joel holds you tight, preventing you from accidentally jerking away and falling face-first into the table, you think Tess is still knocking but it soon ends. Your body is quivering, slick dripping, and sliding down his length. He kisses your cheek, then drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin.

He starts to move again, “Joel,” you whimper and he stops, lips decorating your skin with more kisses. “I want you to come inside me.”

You swear his cock swells even more.

“Yeah?” he sounds amazed, almost. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up?”

“Please.”

“A’right sweet girl, I will, I will,” he bites the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips drilling into you even harder than before. Your brain short circuit. Your poor, sensitive cunt tingling with overstimulation. With every snap of his hips you feel slick gushing from your core and your hands fully drop from your mouth, your body pliant with pleasure.

It doesn’t take Joel long to come undone. He fucks into you one last time and keeps you still on his cock. Another orgasm rips from you at the pressure, his come filling you with violent, desperate spurts. His hips twitch. Joel licks the salt off your skin and then kisses the damp skin. You sigh with relief, hand dropping to your stomach. It feels good. So fucking good for him to claim you in such an intimate way.

“Mine,” he growls, fingers biting into the flesh of your stomach. Again, his wings form a shield around you, trapping you two together.

You smile and thread his fingers with your own, “Yours.”

Note to self, always go to the door when Tess comes over.

But honestly, how the hell were you supposed to know that she came over to warn you?

You’ve seen the text first. You were out on the street doing some quick shopping before you returned home to Joel, however, before you could process what she had written you were surrounded. Familiar symbols of the cult decorated their suits and before you knew it, your vision blacked out.

When you open your eyes once more, you notice that your hands are bound to the ceiling to keep you up. You hear the familiar buzz of the purple binds, much stronger and deadlier than regular rope. The back of your head throbs, an unpleasant pressure behind your eyes, you hiss and look down.

The door opens.

“Where is he?” a man with a white mask asks, stepping into the dingy cell.

You raise your gaze, “Who?”

You can’t see his face but you know he’s angry underneath the cheap plastic. He balls his hands into tight fists and before you know it, his knuckles hit you square in the jaw. You groan and spit up blood.

“Where. Is. He.”

You cough, the taste of iron overwhelming your taste blood. Still, you don’t yield. You look him straight in the eye and force a broken smile.

“Who?”

Joel knew all of it was too good to be true.

The good food, the sex, the woman who loved him despite what and who he was—it should’ve tipped them off that it was only the calm before the storm. The solitude before ruin. He’d seen it many times before, why had he ignored it now?

His eyes narrow and his wings fold, aiding his sharp dive to the building Tess had described. The wind slices at his cheeks, deafens him.

Joel knows why he ignored it.

It was because he was happy for the first time in forever.

He crashes through the glass ceiling, shards of it bursting across the hard marble floor. He sees familiar people in suits covered in symbols. Joel snarls at them, his wings close to him. They’re the same people that imprisoned him—and now they had found the only thing he cared about to lure him into the wolf's den. Well, his capture won’t be easy this time.

He’ll make them pay. He’ll make them all pay.

Joel spreads out his wings and watches the foot soldiers cower in fear. He feels the dark energy pulsing in his palms, adding to his strength, and without a second thought he unleashes it, sharp arrows of darkness spearing their hearts, making them see their worst nightmares before falling.

He kills, kills, and kills. They all feel his eternal pain before they fall, a fall that is much kinder than the one he had to endure. Joel leaves a trail of corpses on his way to you, his heart locked in fear of what might have happened to you.

Joel senses you—your fear, your pain, your hope. He follows those strong feelings. You lead him to a hard steel door, and with the flat of his palm, the door turns to dust.

Joel’s heart stops beating.

You’re strung to the ceiling, your temple caked with blood, your body battered and bruised. You can barely breathe, your lips parting with short gasps.

His rage is sudden and blinding. His shoulders raise with his wings, he sees the other man in the room with you, his gloved hands wet with your blood. The man turns to grab a weapon but Joel doesn’t grant him the favor. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of him, his hands on his jaw, he forces the snap of his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the small chamber.

He deserved something worse than death for hurting you, momentarily Joel regrets giving him the easy way out.

“Joel,” your voice drags him away from his thoughts, his heart breaks at how soft it is. “Is that you?”

Joel’s wings drop. He realizes his hands are wet with blood and shadows, he shakes the shadows off but the blood remains.

“Joel?” you say again, and this time he snaps out of it fully, making his way towards you. He cradles your cheeks, kisses you deep before shattering the cuffs around your wrists. You sigh when you feel the familiar broad chest against your cheek, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Joel.”

“It’s me,” he answers. “I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. In the end, you got here, didn’t you? That’s what matters.”

He should’ve come sooner. Shouldn’t have waited around for Tess, he should’ve broken into every building and burned this city down until he found you. Leaving the chamber, Joel is careful not to make any sudden movements. His eyes soften, a hard knot in his throat when you nuzzle into him while he carries you away.

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re safe,” his grip tightens around you. “I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you. Never again.”

His steps come to a sudden halt as he feels your weak touch on his cheek. Joel looks down in worry but you’re smiling, his chest lightens.

“Same goes for me,” you say, voice hoarse. “They can break every bone but I’ll never let them take you. Never again.”

Joel looks at your weathered body. Humans were always so fragile, so prone to death. You’re nothing but a speck of dust compared to the dangers that lurked in this world—compared to him. But human resilience has always been something that immortals had feared.

He smiles and nods.

Joel firmly believes, deep within his heart, that he is safe as long as you’re here with him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #fallen angel au #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

742 notes · View notes