#any feedback is very VERY much appreciated

[gxtfictx]

52 pick up - Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader

Summary: So basically this is a Emily x reader one shot based on ep 4x9 because I really wanted to read one but I could not find ANYTHING so I guess I had to write it myself *sighs*

TW: spoilers for 4x09, Fem!reader, (very poorly written) smut, mutual masturbation, fingering (this might be so bad I’m sorry in advance if it is) I think that’s it but let me know if I miss anything

A/n: very new fanfic writer so please be gentle and any feedback is appreciated 🙏 English is not my first language so sorry for the possible mistakes

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

“we need to study his style up close and personal. It’s gonna take someone that he’s already attracted to” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive tone, soon enough, Morgan and Hotch are also looking at Emily, and you are too, only to realize what they’re trying to say

“oh… oh this is really gonna suck” Emily complains when she realizes she’s the one who will have to approach Viper.

You really didn’t like this idea. You weren’t obviously happy to let your girlfriend get in the line just to be approached by that same asshole who had already been extremely inappropriate to her, objectifying her, suggesting he could “make her do whatever he wanted”. Only if he knew if there was anybody in the world capable of making Emily Prentiss do anything was you.

All of that was true, but why was also true, and you wouldn’t admit, was how unreasonably jealous that thought made you.

You knew for sure Emily would never cheat on you, or do anything to deliberately hurt you in any way, and there was also the fact that she was a lesbian, so there is no way she would be attracted to that guy in any way, however it did make you feel jealous, just the idea of your beautiful, sexy girlfriend walking into that bar, as a literal decoy, her, all dressed up as any other night she would do, to go out with you and the rest for a BAU party night, but instead getting there by herself just with the aim to be eye-fucked by that disgusting misogynist of a man.

“ok but you’re not going by yourself, I’m going with you. It could be more effective is we approach him as a couple, isn’t that what our unsub has been doing anyway?”

You wait for your boss’ response, he frowns as he considers the idea

“You’re right, it could be more effective that way. Go get ready” He finally admits, and you go get your go bag

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

You enter the room while Emily is already changing in, opening the door slightly just to take a peek so you can surprise her. She is already unbuttoning her work shirt.

“would you like me to finish that for you?”

You ask her, a she startles

“jeez y/n! you scared me, I didn’t know you were there!”

“Sorry, honey” you say as you enter the room and close it behind you

“are you excited to go clubbing or are you mad that I offered to go with you? I just really hated the idea of you approaching that asshole by yourself” you walk up to her, surrounding her waist with your arms, resting your hands on her sides, softly caressing the skin there

“yes…well about that” she surrounds your neck with her arms, twirling little strands of your hair with her fingers there

“you actually got mad?”

“no, no it’s not that… Hotch just came in and we talked about Jordan, and I kind of suggested she came with me”

“so basically I’m not going?”

“it’s just…she’s really trying hard to be a part of the team, and I can’t help it”

“you see yourself in her? Ems…” you knew how good she meant but you couldn’t help to think that she was being too nice to her, plus you weren’t so sure you liked Jordan that much. Maybe it was because you missed JJ, or maybe you just didn’t really like the way she looked at her sometimes.

“I just don’t want her to feel left alone now”

“I know, baby and I love you for that, but you were not like her, you did your best ever since the first day, you never needed to prove yourself by lying or anything like that

“Yes, but I did feel very left out at times, and I will never forget how comforted it made me feel that you included me and asked me for help at times”

“yes, but that was because I was trying to get in your pants” she laughs and closes her eyes slightly as in “I can’t believe you’re saying that” way.

It’s sometimes surprising how shy Emily can get specially considering her confidence in the bedroom, and also how she would slip some suggestive comments about your relationship in front of the team from time to time mostly to surprise them, but you loved both sides of her, and you though her shyness was adorable, so you laugh with her.

“I know it’s important for you, and it’s just so cute how you want to help her, so I’ll forget about it and just stick with Morgan and Reid, but if he touches you, remember I’m armed.”

She smiles, softly, looking at your lips, and she kisses you softly, and you gently kiss her back.

“I promise I’ll compensate you”

“I will hold you on for that one”

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

It can feel strange to be dressed in your casual work clothes in the middle of a bar but there you are, handing in flyers with Morgan and Reid, you can’t help but to look among all the faces trying to find Emily, completely aware of how bad this could affect her cover, but you can’t help it.

She should be here already, what’s taking her so long?

Someone is suddenly standing behind you, you turn hopeful to see Emily but disappointed to see it’s just Morgan

“is pretty girl looking for her girlfriend?” he teases you

“shouldn't they be here already?” You ask him, ignoring the teasing

“relax beautiful, or you’re gonna blow up their cover, and even Pretty boy here has handed in more flyers than you, don’t get so distracted” he advices you, but you don’t really listen, you just keep walking around until you catch a glimpse of someone standing on a table, you can instantly recognize Emily, wearing a beautiful black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her breasts and making her look more beautiful if that was even possible already.

Almost immediately you can see Viper approaching her, he looks so confident in his “alpha male” appearance but you’re certain it will take Emily mere seconds to destroy him.

Then Jordan arrives, she has also dressed up for the occasion but she doesn’t look nearly as hot as your girlfriend. They both engage in a conversation with Viper, visibly suggestive. At the beginning you can tell his confident, he has done this a million times, but as time passes, and the conversation goes on, every time one of her talks he also gets more and more insecure.

You observe how Emily teases him, at one point she gets so close to his mouth you actually believe he’s going to kiss her but she just laughs it off and his body language changes again.

Looking at your beautiful girlfriend interacting in this way from afar was making you feel more and more aroused it even embarrassed you that it was turning you on, but you couldn’t help it. I mean, how could you when she just looked like that? You couldn’t even blame yourself every time you looked at her mouth and how her lipstick suited her perfectly.

Everything happens quicker than you thought, first thing you notice is how their face expressions change, and suddenly they’re walking away, leaving Viper there, and picking up the phone probably to call Hotch. You look for Morgan and Reid and tell them it’s time to leave.

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Back at the precinct you catch Emily when she’s entering the changing room again, you check that Jordan isn’t inside too, and get in with her.

“you look… wow” it’s the first thing you say to her. She’s looking straight at you, with a smile on her face, hinting she probably has something in mind for you

“you liked it?”

“Em, you look so beautiful”

“I could see you there in the back you know?” she grabs you by the waist, gently pushing your back against the lockers, you surround her with your arms for support, she keeps talking seductively, with her face so close you yours that your lips could crush if you just moved a bit closer. Instead you both just remain there, as Emily talks, just millimeters away from kissing

“really?” you ask, it’s a stupid question but you’re too surprised to say something coherent right now.

“really, yeah, you were practically drooling, was I doing that to you baby? “

“yes, god Emily yes”

She closes the space between us, her lips crashing against yours, practically devouring you, softly, full of lust.

Emily’s kisses were like that, no matter how much they lasted she always left you wanting more.

Her hands pull your waist to hers, grabbing your flesh desperately, anywhere she could find it. You run your finger through her soft black curls. Her tongue finds yours in a matter of seconds and suddenly the kiss turns into something bigger, her hands travel down to find your ass giving it a gentle squeeze because you know how much I love that she grabs your ass and how much it turns you on

You hear a knock on the door interrupting the scene, and you fly away from each other in less than a second

“Come in!” Emily just says a bit too loud. Her cheeks are red, and when Jordan enters she notices

“sorry, am I interrupting something?” she says, but it’s not a real apology

“no, sorry I was already leaving” you reply maybe a little too fast, and with one last look to Emily, you leave.

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

After a case is closed you always feel like an eternity has passed. You are way so tired you can barely stand anymore, but at least you’re glad you got there in time to save the last woman the unsub had taken before something horrible happened to her.

You enter your hotel room, the one you shared with Emily. You started sharing rooms during cases after you made your relationship public, Hotch thought it was for the better since you wouldn’t be sneaking out of your rooms every night, and technically you were saving money.

“my feet are killing me, maybe those heels weren’t such a great idea as I thought” she sits on the bed, and you help her take her shoes off

“if I remember correctly, you had promised something to me” she grabs you by the waist, getting you closer to her, looking up from where she’s sitting

She simply smiles, looking up at you

“you know me. Im a woman of my word” she starts unzipping your pants, pulling them off your legs, she leaves a little kiss right on top of your underwear, she grabs them and pulls them down just like she did with your pants.

You start unbuttoning your shirt, and she does the same thing, but before she can finish you interrupt her

“you’ve undressed many times today already, let me be the one who takes you clothes off now” you move to sit next to her and you take her shirt off, then to unzipping her pants. It doesn’t take muck more for Emily to take the lead. She pushes you down so your back is laying flat on the bed, just to finish unbuttoning your shirt and opening it to discover you’re not wearing a bra underneath

“look at what we have here!” she teases you

“you look beautiful like this baby, did you enjoy the little act on the bar today? Because I think it turned you on, you couldn’t take your eyes off of me could you?” she says positioning herself on top of you, straddling you, lowering her face to kiss your cheek, then your neck, leaving soft and wet kisses all over your jaw.

“Yes, Em god yes” you say completely out of breath

“was my baby jealous?” she asks, alternating kisses between words

“I was” you admit, completely at her mercy, and very turned on by how her fingers trace all around your stomach, your chest, how she whispers in your ear and kisses everywhere she can reach.

“you’re mine, baby” she whispers in your ear, and moves to bite of on your earlobe

“I’m yours” you answer, and you can feel her smile forming on her lips against the tender skin right behind your jaw where she was kissing you

She started her trip down your body, leaving wet kisses all along your skin, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear. She put her hair between her ears and instead of going on to where you wanted her, she began kissing her way up your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin there which you were sure will leave small purple marks tomorrow that you were too ashamed to admit you loved carrying with your for the whom day, watching them on your own reflection on the mirror, tracing with your fingers the same path her lips had made hours ago.

She reached closer to your centre, lingering right where your thighs ended and met the elastic on your underwear. This had you bucking up your waist to her face, which caused a giggle from her

“someone’s eager”

“Em you’ve teased me enough already, just please” you say out of breath, begging her to get where you wanted her the most

“I can’t say no to you” she kisses you right in the middle of your underwear, the sudden contact making you moan in pleasure

“Fuck. Em” your hands practically flew to wrap your fingers between her hair.

She uses her own mouth to lower your underwear with her teeth, and taking them all the way off using her right hand, the other one never leaving its place. Other times Emily would simply move your underwear enough to get exactly what she wanted, but tonight she needed you naked, nothing more than you on her head.

Before you could complain on her slow pace, her lips crashed against yours, she moaned in your mouth and you did the same, simultaneously she cupped you, a slight cry in pleasure leaving your lips

“Emily please, just ple-“ Emily cut you off by burying two fingers inside you, the sudden pleasure causing a long, loud moan escape your lips.

You were both always so vocal about your time together even when staying at hotels, so you could count that Morgan would be teasing you about it tomorrow since he was the one sharing a wall with you. But you could not be bothered.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked with genuine concern on her eyes.

“No, it’s perfect just don’t stop” she smiled against your lips. You decided to take advantage of the situation, and moved the one hand that wasn’t wrapped on her hair, to meet her centre, and gently run your finger through her.

“Fuck. Don’t stop” she breathed before kissing you again.

She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed

One last hard press against it had you coming undone, Emily let you ride your orgasm, although it doesn’t take her long to reach her high as well and she comes apart collapsing on top of you.

The heavy breaths filled the silent room, you caressed her hair, and she gave you a last peck on the lips before getting off of you, moving so you could face each other, she wraps her arm around your waist and brings you as close to her as possible.

“I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you today” you admit

“How she looked at me? Don’t you mean he?” She asks

“I mean both of them, Viper and Jordan”

“Oh c’mon, you’re not being serious” she laughs it off

“I’m serious, I really think she’s into you”

“You’re not even jealous anymore, you are being completely unreasonable now”

“Ok, whatever you say, just remember, my gay radar never fails” you tell her to make her laugh, but you’re not totally joking

“Just so you know, Viper was right. I did have someone in my mind”

“Oh? And who might that be?” You say teasingly

“Try and guess” she says, going for another kiss that you reciprocate with a big smile on your lips.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily Prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #Emily Prentiss x you #criminal minds x reader #Emily Prentiss imagine #Emily Prentiss wlw #emily prentiss lesbian #bisexual reader #cm 4x09 #criminal minds 4x09 #cm 52 pickup

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

SORRY - Chapter 4

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

WORDCOUNT: 802

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

As Dominique was walking towards the Gorilla position, she ran into Trinity and any other day Dom would have given her a friendly wave but today Dominique couldn’t help the glare that made its way on her face.. Trinity immediately held her hands up. 

“I come in peace.” She tried to joke, but Dominique didn’t find it funny, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay..” Trinity muttered before clearing her throat. “I just wanted to say that nothing happened between me and Jon. He was drunk and came to my hotel room this morning, but nothing happened.” 

Dominique let out a sigh and dropped her arms. “Good to know. Listen, I have to go..” She tried to walk past but Trinity grabbed her arm. 

“Wait, he’s really sorry. He told me what happened at the club and while it was very stupid of him, he’s hurting and - “ Dominique didn’t want to hear anymore. She snatched her arm out of Trinity’s grasp. 

“I have no problem with you Trinity. Let's try to keep it that way.” Trinity scoffed. 

“I’m not the enemy -” 

“No, you are the enemy” Dominique cut her off. “ Just because shit didn’t work out with y’all doesn’t mean that you can try to swoop in and try to get him back while we’re having a rough patch.” They were now in each other’s face, with Dominique slightly towering over her because of her high heels. 

“Ladies , Ladies relax.” Randy called out as he grabbed Dom but her shoulders and gently moved her back from Trinity.  “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I was just leaving..” Trinity answered, giving Dominique one last glare before walking away from them. 

“You alright?” Randy asked as he turned Dominique towards him. “I never knew y’all had beef.” Dominique cracked a smile. 

“We don’t have beef.” She said, rolling her eyes. “I saw her with Jon earlier and -” She shrugged and sighed. “Just rubbed me the wrong way.”

 Randy winced. “Damn you caught him with his ex-fiance..” Dominique shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “How bad was it?” 

“I mean they were just standing there, when the elevator doors opened but look, it was bound to happen anyway right?” Randy had a confused look on his face. “When I first started working here they were THE couple and only broke up over a misunderstanding so why wouldn’t he go back go her?” 

“Because he loves you.”

“Not as much as he loves her apparently. You didn’t see how close they were earlier. It was like I interrupted an intimate moment between them.” Dominique said, her voice slightly wavering at the end of her sentence. Randy noticed and pulled her into a tight hug. 

“Imma tell you the same thing I told you last night, Jimmy loves you, talks about nothing else but you hell, he even finds ways to bring you up in the conversation. Whatever him and Trinity had was years ago, so get those thoughts out of your head.”

Jon stopped walking and caused Josh to bump into him. “What the hell Uce,?!”  Jon didn’t respond, only titled his head and squinted his eyes and if it was going to make his vision clearer, because he knew damn well that wasn’t his fiance down the hall in the arms of Randy Orton.  “Oh shit.” Josh winched. “I’m sure it's a good explanation for this Uce.” 

“I’m sure it is,” Jon whispered before shaking his head and walking in the opposite direction of Randy and Dominique. 

It was finally time for the main event of the night which was Randy and his partner Matt Riddle versus Jon and Josh… which was ironic as fuck to her.  She stood near the corner of the ring as both teams made their entrances, She moved to the side as Jon and Josh posed in the corner, she frowned as Jon glared at her as he walked past her. 

While she was introducing the teams she noticed Jon wouldn’t even look in her direction. He kept his eyes locked on Randy. When Randy looked over at Dominique, Jon snapped and walked into Randy’s face. “You stay the fuck away from my fiance.” Jon gritted out through his clenched teeth while  pointing his finger in Randy’s face. 

“Oh shit.” Dominique whispered as she was ushered out of the ring by the referee. Josh and Riddle were trying to separate Randy and Jon. 

“Chill Uce!” She heard Josh yell at Jon while he was pushing him back in their corner. “Relax, be professional!” All Dominique could do was watch with wide eyes as Jon glared over at her once again. 

“The fuck did I do?” She whispered, confused as hell. She should be the one glaring at him! What the fuck was he so mad at?! 

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

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#wwe #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso #wwe jimmy #jimmy uso x fem reader #jimmy uso x you #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso x oc #jimmy uso fic #jimmy uso x black reader #wwe x fem reader #wwe x you #wwe x oc #wwe x y/n #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #black reader #black writblr

[mynonah]

#kurt hummel #born this way #glee #glee art #myno's stuff #any feedback is very much appreciated #not just the positive ones #i abslutely like constructive criticism #helps to become better

[rynnaissance]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fearne Calloway & Morrigan Calloway, Fearne Calloway & Laudna & Imogen Temult, Laudna/Imogen Temult, Fearne Calloway/Ashton Greymoore, Orym/Dorian Storm Characters: Fearne Calloway, Morrigan Calloway, Laudna (Critical Role), Imogen Temult, Bells Hells (Critical Role), Ashton Greymoore, Orym (Critical Role), Dorian Storm, Fresh Cut Grass (Critical Role), Chetney Pock O'Pea, Zhudanna (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Human Summary:

Fearne Calloway has never left Ligament Manor and never thought she would want to, until recently. After discovering there may be more out there for her in the world of Exandria, she begins to cast aside her past assumptions. Desperate for connection to others, she'll leave the Harrowcall Fens and head for her new home in Jrusar, where a slew of interesting characters are just waiting to be met.

Or...

Fearne`s gonna end up living with the rest of the bell's hells in a big old house Zhudonna rents out as apartments. it will be fun fun fun, trust me.

#UUUHH SO I STARTED A FIC #would very much appreciate any feedback or anything #critical role #fearne calloway #bells hells #critical role fanfiction #imodna #theres going to be some imodna moments but the fic is mostly focused on fearne #callowmoore #and of course callowmoore bc how could i not #ok i seriously need to go to sleep now

[commanderohdear]

#art #lethal company #my character #oc #ask me about her #plwase #i love to ramble about my characters #its one of my favorite things to do #also feedback on it is much appreciated #i am not very good at art #so any feedback on how to improve is greatly appreciated #she stays in the ship most of the time #and is very good at keeping her teammates alive #she is a valuble asset to the company #Commander rambles #commander art #can and will save your life #she once faced a forest keeper #and lived to tell the tale #and another time an earth leviathan #the braken is what kills her most #that or the thumper #they are scary #the braken is peak cryptid energy #the thumper is a land shark #change my mind #tehe #i am having way too much fun with these tags #i thunk #i have achieved brain thought

[justashadetalkative]

Status

I don’t know what next week will bring, but work has calmed down this past week, and I’m feeling much better rested.

So! I’m hoping to tackle some writing and housekeeping stuff this weekend.

If there’s a thread you’re interested in continuing and you’re worried it may have slipped through the cracks — which is most likely if it was a new thread (less than ~6 replies) or a starter I haven’t replied to yet — then please do let me know!

Similarly, if we have multiple threads going and there’s one in particular that you’re most excited to continue, let me know and that will help me decide what to prioritize. ^_^

(Times like this when I’ve had a bit of a break from writing are also a good time for me to try to break past replies I may have gotten stuck on in the past, so feel free to bring up threads even if it’s been a long time since I last replied!)

#(I ask because *I* am worried some things have slipped through the cracks sldjdhdh) #(I won’t have a HUGE amount of free time this weekend but it will be enough time to sit down and take stock) #(and any help or feedback on that front is very much appreciated ^_^) #ooc #status #thread roll call

[thetomorrowshow]

hubris killed the god - ch 1

At first he thinks it’s a trick of his mind. Something brought about by the terror of the storm and the grief of multiple deaths.

When the other two llamas die and Scott finds their bodies, little black crawlies digging into their eyes, he knows it has to be real.

When three more llamas come down ill within the week, Scott knows that quarantine is hopeless.

And when he notices the blackness approaching, rolling over the fields on every side of Chromia, inching closer to the town until the Nether portal is inaccessible, Scott knows this isn’t just going to go away.

And he isn’t going to get away.

this is the first chapter of my apocalypse/horror/survival fic, set in empires smp s2. happy halloween!

cw: previous major character death, death of animals, mild gore, horror

~

The day before the end begins, it storms.

It’s a bad storm, one that Scott finds himself out in, battering down the storm defenses of the llama garden and covering patches of the flower fields in tarps. Then he gets inside before it can get any worse.

The rain is so heavy that his window becomes a dark sheet of water, his own thoughts deafened by the hammering of hail on his roof and the echoing thunder. Scott finds himself frightened by the way the wind seems to penetrate his home, and when his lantern blows out for the fourth time, he gives up on trying to keep a light on and crawls into bed, pulling the blankets over his head and pretending he can’t hear the way the house seems to creak under the weight of such a vicious storm. Eventually, he must fall asleep, his room so dark that he can’t tell the difference between eyes open and eyes closed.

When he wakes up, he wakes with the sun in his eyes.

Scott sits up slowly, inhales the scent of petrichor that fully permeates his bedroom. There’s a hole in his roof, he spots immediately, a shingle hanging through it, dripping water onto his floor below. 

Compared to the horrifying storm of the day before, Scott finds it almost stiflingly quiet, the only sound being the plat plat plat of the water drops hitting the floor. He can’t very well let that continue.

Scott kicks the blankets away from his legs, where they’ve become tangled in the throes of his sleep. He only allows himself a moment, a moment to prepare himself for the work and wreckage that is surely waiting outside his door. For that moment, the sun shining in through the hole in his roof is beautiful, the water drops sparkling, the air fresh and delicious.

Then he gathers a breath and slides out of bed.

He’s right, unfortunately. Chromia has sustained a considerable amount of damage, roofs and roads torn up, entire swathes of crops felled, trees split down the middle and pulled to pieces. One unlucky building has collapsed entirely, a tree splitting its roof down the middle.

That damage is manageable, though. It’ll take time, but Scott knows how to build. He can repair buildings, fill potholes, replant crops and trees.

He can’t bring back the dead.

The llama garden is destroyed, the trapdoors hanging off their hinges, the hedges uprooted and blown over. Scott steps over storm-churned mud, speaking quietly—he’s not sure what he’s saying, something soothing and repetitive—as he approaches the huddled, wild-eyed herd of llamas, all squished under the hasty awning he’d constructed when the storm had begun.

There are two limp llama forms in the garden. Yeti and Eloise. 

Scott takes care of them first, kissing both on the forehead before carrying them, one after the other, out of the garden and beyond the bounds of Chromia, to a plot of land he’d laid aside months ago with the hope he’d never have to use it.

The digging of twin graves is slow and mournful, but Scott doesn’t halt until he can roll the bodies in, dirt streaking down his face where it clings to his tear tracks.

He can’t particularly be blamed when he doesn’t look back, shovel hoisted over his shoulder, when he returns to the llama garden. So perhaps it isn’t Scott’s fault that he doesn’t see the darkness crawling over the graves.

-

A llama is ill.

Very, very ill.

It seems to have come out of nowhere—one day, Martina is fine, the next she’s shaking with fever and shying away from any touch. Scott separates the llama from the herd the best he can—which mostly means leading Owen into the garden and bringing Martina to the tavern, one of the buildings with minimal damage from the previous day’s storm.

At first, Scott assumes it’s stress. The stress of surviving the storm and watching two of her friends die had been too much for this poor llama, so he makes all the special little cures that he’s learned in his travels and leaves them for Martina with some warm blankets and pillows (he doesn’t spoonfeed her or anything, because if there’s one thing about Scott it’s that he hates being near sick people or animals, but he trusts that if she can recover, she will).

The next morning, Martina is dead.

And two more are ill.

This isn’t stress, then, this is something contagious. Scott entirely abandons his rebuilding plans, throwing tarps over holes in roofs and walls, and dedicates all his time to isolating the sick llamas before removing the dead one.

When he approaches the limp llama form on the floor of the tavern (already beginning to smell), he pushes it over onto its side to make it easier to pick up.

Crawling all over the llama’s belly are little, black, fuzzy—things.

Scott actually cries out in disgust, pulling his arms to his chest. The things are—they look like patches of mold, and from a distance he might have been convinced that the body was simply growing something, but up close they’re wriggling and swarming and it’s absolutely revolting—because they aren’t just sitting en masse upon the Martina’s body, but they seem to be . . . eating it.

They don’t have mouths—or if they do, they’re too miniscule to tell—but Scott can see unmistakable flashes of red between them, and certainly they’re eating his friend.

As he gazes in horror, something changes and their movements turn erratic, before they all begin to scatter from the body—and Scott doesn’t stick around to see the open carcass of the llama. He books it for the door, as the . . . things behind him reconvene upon the llama.

Scott slams the front door of the tavern and leans against it, breathing heavily. What—

What was that?

At first he thinks it’s a trick of his mind. Something brought about by the terror of the storm and the grief of multiple deaths.

When the other two llamas die and Scott finds their bodies, little black crawlies digging into their eyes, he knows it has to be real.

When three more llamas come down ill within the week, Scott knows that quarantine is hopeless.

And when he notices the blackness approaching, rolling over the fields on every side of Chromia, inching closer to the town until the Nether portal is inaccessible, Scott knows this isn’t just going to go away.

And he isn’t going to get away.

-

The llamas are a lost cause. Within days, the entire garden is overrun.

Somehow, he manages to clear a path through the black things—mites, he starts to call them in his head, or plaguelings sometimes—to get to Owen’s body to say farewell, but even the hardest of glares don’t shake them from the body.

He can still walk through town, though the confines of his walk become smaller and smaller every day. The mites don’t seem to appreciate being looked at, scuttling away when he lays his eyes on them, but they return as soon as he passes, covering up the bare ground behind him. So, before the crops are entirely a lost cause, he gathers whatever bundles of wheat remain from the storm’s devastation of just two weeks prior.

He stacks all of his food stores in his house, and when he wakes the next morning to retrieve whatever building materials he can, his storage hall is blanketed in black. Safe to say he won’t be going over there any time soon.

And over the course of a month, Scott finds himself completely cut off from any source of food, building, and outside help.

He thinks about his friends, sometimes. Surely this plague isn’t just spreading in Chromia, because when he climbs to the roof of the tavern, he can look out and see endless patches of black.

Sometimes, his eyes turn toward his neighbor. Stratos is silent, its lamps burnt out, its heavenly glow burnished.

And that, perhaps, more than anything, scares Scott.

Whatever these things are, they’ve caused the god to abandon his city.

-

He thinks, sometimes, that maybe he ought to have tried to leave back when the first llama became ill. He should’ve gone to Shelby, or Sausage, or someone else with animal knowledge to ask about the illness. And both are such magical folk, perhaps they could have killed this plague before it properly began.

“Nice going, Scott,” he mutters to himself, eyes jumping from side to side as he walks down his main street. He can see them, hiding in the cracks of bricks and in between buildings and in the dying grass. He won’t let them get him yet. “Imagine what Pix’ll write about this. Foolish ruler overrun by tiny fuzzy monsters. Forgot to leave while he still could.”

But then there would have been no one to comfort the llamas in their last days, he reminds himself, even if it had to be from a distance. He still hasn’t touched a single mite, and he doesn’t plan to.

They’re terrifying, these mites, because they’re always there. There’s constantly a little bubble of black in the corner of his vision, reaching toward him like some amalgamous arm, only breaking apart when he looks directly at it. He’s had too many close calls, especially off the road where they can hide in the grass and pop up right beside his boot. Only the road is moderately safe.

Until, suddenly, he can’t even walk on the road anymore.

He steps out his front door to find that not only are the plaguelings swarming the road, like millions of tiny rats, but that they’re swarming around things in the road—and off the road—and on his doorstep.

Birds. Dead birds. One every couple of feet, like an entire flock had been dragged out of the sky by the reaching arms of many piles of mites.

And really, Scott thinks, a sickly feeling in his throat, who’s to say that isn’t what happened?

It’s clear what the message is, though—outside of his house is no longer safe. He’s stuck here with whatever he has to defend himself against the encroaching darkness, which is unfortunately not much.

Fire doesn’t work against them. He’d tried early on, watching with growing panic as they had mobbed the flame, seeming to multiply as they piled atop it until it was utterly smothered.

A sword is too imprecise, the mites scattering away from the blade before the swing can even land—same for an axe.

His shovel had been useful to an extent, though he hasn’t managed to actually kill them with it—the whacking of it on the ground had only served to scare them away for a few moments.

So Scott grabs his shovel, adjusting and readjusting his sweaty grip on it, and stands by the door, ready to swing at anything that skitters through the cracks.

That day passes mostly uneventfully, Scott jumping every time his house creaks, weapon aloft and body tense, only for nothing to happen.

The next morning, there are a handful of mites creeping toward his kitchen. The mites vary in size, the smallest being the size of a fingernail, the largest perhaps the size of Scott’s palm. Unfortunately, one of the mites in his house is the palm-size kind.

Scott whacks and whacks with his shovel, a scream tearing from his throat—these are the things that killed his best friends, he can only imagine waking up to one stuffing itself down his throat as he chokes on the nightmare and is enveloped by so many others and they’re going to kill him he’s going to die here—and yet it remains unsquashed, gathering with a couple of smaller ones in an unreachable spot under his furnace.

Scott stares, lets his shovel fall with a shaky, sob-like sigh.

This is it, isn’t it?

They’ve gotten into his house, and everywhere they go they spread death.

Within hours, there’s more. Scott tries to hit them with his broom, afraid of the way the shovel blade seems to be rattling loosely against the handle, but when they just begin to crawl up the broom handle Scott shrieks and throws it across the room.

There’s so many of them. There’s too many of them, all creeping and crawling inexorably toward Scott, the only living thing left.

Scott doesn’t sleep that night. He spends the night watching his bedroom door, because if he’s looking at it they won’t come in. They only move toward him when he isn’t looking, so he’s just going to stare at the door and put off the inevitable.

He can’t help but imagine that it’ll be a very painful death.

The earlier llamas had died of illness, a plague that Scott’s pretty sure they contracted by coming into contact with the darkness, but the later llamas. . . .

Well. It hadn’t been pretty. It had been torturous, really, hearing their panicked and pained brays, his heart aching as he couldn’t even bear to watch. He hasn’t even let himself dwell on it until now.

And now, surrounded on all sides by the deathly mites, Scott wishes that he’d died much earlier, entombed in his bed—succumbed to the illness.

It’s too late now. Now, darkness encroaches, and maybe it’s just the fuzziness of his eyes as he forces them wide open, but it looks like the mites may be creeping in along the sides of the room.

Scott holds his place until day, sunlight filtering in through his window. He’d never patched the hole in his roof, just covered it over with a tarp, and he knows that the mites are crawling over the roof because he can see the tarp weighing down, bulging into the room. If too many pile onto it, it’ll collapse into a bomb of flesh-eating death.

And that’s the only sign he has that the mites are around, because there aren’t any in his room yet, and somehow they don’t make noise. They’re silent as they crawl across his roof and down his walls, up his staircase and under his floorboards. They’ve always been silent. 

This is his last day. He knows it.

Scott eats his last bit of bread, swallowing it down past his dry throat. He clips his knife into his boot—maybe he can cut some of them posthumously as they swarm over his body—and swings his trusty shovel around a few times, testing his reflexes.

Maybe he can frighten them a bit, even if he can’t kill them. It’s the noise—or the vibrations—of the shovel colliding with the ground that scares them away, but it doesn’t actually harm them. He doesn’t know how to harm them. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how to survive this. He can’t survive this.

And suddenly, there’s one in his room.

It crawls up under his door, the size of one of Scott’s fingers, and is still for a moment—long enough for Scott to bring down his shovel with a resounding crash beside it.

It’s gone in an instant, back the way it came.

But it’s only the first, and a few minutes later, there’s another one.

Scott scares that one away as well, anticipation mounting. He watches the door, shovel ready, breath coming faster—

He spins around, and sure enough, there’s one crawling under his bed.

It must’ve come up from the floorboards—or through a hole in the wall—they don’t just come in one way, they’re everywhere and Scott’s going to die surrounded by tiny monsters that he can’t fight—

BANG!

Scott jumps at the deafening noise, and there’s a crash from his window and he glances over—

A pair of booted heels kick through his window, followed by the legs and body and cowboy hat of Jimmy.

Jimmy lands on Scott’s bedroom floor, glass falling from his body in silver raindrops. He glances up, gives Scott a quick grin.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s never been so good to hear another person’s voice. “Needin’ a rescue?”

Scott almost drops his shovel in relief.

Jimmy’s looking pretty rough, his hair long enough to curl around his ears, beard a bit scruffier than he usually keeps it, shirt torn here and there, badge dull. But his stance is firm, and his eyes are sparkling with a determination that Scott hasn’t had in days, and his bandolier is loaded with bullets.

He looks like a godsend.

Jimmy cocks his pistol—he must’ve shot it, that’s what the bang had been—and aims it at the door, stepping toward it. “How many varmints are through there?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Um. A lot,” says Scott after a moment, hoisting his shovel and drawing up next to him. Jimmy grimaces, then takes a deep breath.

“All right, here’s how this is gonna go,” Jimmy says, briefly making eye contact before turning back to the door. “I’ll open that door real quick and shoot—they run from the sound of it. Then we’re gonna go out there, me shooting and you whacking that shovel around, until we’re outside where False can reach us. Got it?”

Scott nods. False is here as well?

He’s not alone anymore. He’s not going to die here.

Not yet, a wry voice in the back of his head reminds him. He could just as easily die in Jimmy’s hands.

Well, he thinks, raising his shovel. At least we’re going out guns a-blazin’.

And then Jimmy yanks open the door.

There’s hundreds of them out there. On the walls, on the floor, covering any chests and personal affectations. Scott actually takes a step back, but Jimmy just fires his gun into the center of it all.

The mites flee from the loud noise and the hole in the floor where the bullet strikes, leaving a substantial place in the center of the floor for them to step through. Jimmy strides through, Scott on his heels, glaring around to keep the mites from encroaching on their space.

When they run out of clear space, Jimmy hollers at the top of his lungs (Scott jumps a little bit at the sudden noise) and jumps up and down in place, his boots rattling the whole house. More of them scatter to the sidelines, twitching and crawling up the walls. Scott follows as Jimmy stomps through, yelling like a madman—and it works. The noise and impact of his shouts and boots spook the plaguelings, pushing them back far enough away that the two of them have a brief path through the squirming masses.

Scott beats at the ground with his shovel behind them, keeping any from creeping up when their backs are turned. He and Jimmy make their way to the front door like that, back to back, stomping and beating and yelling until they’re outside.

The sun is almost blinding after the total blackness that had covered every inch of inside, and though there’s seas of mites roving just beyond their feet, Scott can properly see the sun and sky and hear a loud whirring and clunking and see—

A flying machine?

Made up of copper and wood, great cogs and spinning wheels, clunking and clanking with some sort of blimp pulling it along—

And Jimmy yells something Scott doesn’t understand, but apparently whoever is up in the flying machine does, as a rope ladder unfurls and falls directly in front of them.

Jimmy stomps in place, grabbing Scott by the back of his shirt and shoving him toward the ladder. Scott knows how to take a hint—he sticks his shovel through his belt loop and he climbs, sweaty hands barely keeping hold of the twisting rope, feet scrambling for the swinging rungs.

If he slips and falls, he’ll fall onto Jimmy, leaving them free for the mites to suffocate. Falling is not an option.

His shovel clanks against his leg, his breathing comes heavier and heavier as his arms tremble under the weight of himself—he hasn’t climbed a rope ladder in years, and never one being blown around by the turbines of some great flying machine. It’s life or death, though, and every time he thinks of what waits for him if he falls from this height, he somehow finds the strength to grip the ropes a little tighter and heave himself up another rung.

It feels like it takes years, but eventually Scott can wrap his arms around the side of the flying machine and roll over it onto the deck, where he collapses, panting, his arms jelly and core aching. His shovel digs into his hip, but he doesn’t move, because somehow he’s safe. He’s been rescued.

Minutes ago, he’d been sure his own death was waiting, and here he is, sitting on a ship in the sky.

There’s a thunk, and he opens his eyes—closed against the rays of the sun—to see Jimmy standing beside him, pulling up the rope ladder.

“No one else down there?” he calls to Scott over the sound of the flying machine, and Scott shakes his head.

“Just me!”

Jimmy finishes pulling the ladder up, dropping it in a heap on the wood planks of the ship. “Get us outta here, False!”

There’s a shout from further along the ship—False, Scott realizes, shading a hand over his eyes to look ahead at the woman in question—and then the ship tilts dizzyingly, turning in midair, the noise of the cogs and gears and machinations louder than before.

Scott feels a little lightheaded, really. This is . . . this is a lot, and he hasn’t been given time to process any of it.

But Jimmy’s barely paused but to wipe his face with his neckerchief, making his way up to False to help with something or other, and Scott knows instinctively that if he wants to stay around, he has to pull his weight. It’s not his first time landing in groups like this—though in his experience, they tend to involve planning and executing heists rather than rescuing people from the apocalypse.

Depending on how he looks at it, that might be considered a heist. Of sorts. Similar enough that he at least has some frame of reference.

Scott knows that he can’t just lie here on the deck. So he pushes himself to his feet, readjusts his shovel in his belt loop, and joins his two rescuers at the stern.

False is at the wheel—a proper ship’s wheel, ignoring the chain of redstone linking it to whatever machine lies beneath deck—, grip firm on the wooden handles as she directs the ship. Jimmy’s beside her, stripping off his shirt—Scott feels his face heat as he catches sight of Jimmy’s chest, shining with sweat, biceps muscular and suntanned—and twisting around, examining every inch of skin.

“Think I’m good,” he shouts, buttoning his shirt back up. He gestures at Scott’s shirt. “Check for critters! There’s some privacy below deck, if you need it.”

And seeing as Jimmy next unbuckles his belt, Scott thinks it’s a very good idea to go below, lest he embarrass himself.

Below decks, Scott almost instantly loses a finger to an amalgamation of copper gears right beside the staircase, then nearly walks directly into a hiss of boiling steam. He can’t really see anything, and he spares a brief moment to wonder why on earth this ship is so dangerous before continuing on, more carefully now.

He maneuvers around the dark, cramped, sweltering space until he finds something resembling a bed—though it’s right next to some ticking redstone machine that seems annoying to sleep beside—that has a low lamp beside it. He tosses his hat down and shrugs off his coat, checks it for mites, then drops it on the bed to pull off his shirt.

Once he’s stripped down to his underthings, he checks all over his body for any black things stuck to his skin. All seems fine—he shakes out his clothes, turns them inside out, checks every inch for splotches of black.

Nothing. Thank goodness.

For good measure, Scott combs through his hair with his fingers, then redresses, carrying his patchwork coat over his arm (he can already feel his shirt begin to soak through with sweat) and firmly setting his hat on his head. He heads back up to the deck, lets out a breath of relief at the feeling of wind on his face.

Jimmy meets him at the top of the ladder, gestures forward. “It’s quieter up at the bow,” he shouts in Scott’s ear. Scott nods and follows him.

Surprisingly, it is a bit quieter. They still have to speak loudly, but not so loudly that Scott has to scream his lungs out. The wind is harsher here, blowing directly in their faces, and Scott has to hold one hand to his head to keep his hat from flying off.

“Your duds all good, then?” Jimmy asks, and Scott’s not quite sure what that means or how to respond, so he just kind of nods.

“Thanks,” he says in lieu of a response. “For saving me, and all that. I thought. . . .”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. 

He’d thought he’d been alone. That everyone else was dead. That he was soon to join them.

He’d been about to die, he nearly died, he should be dead.

Jimmy only shrugs. “It’s what we do.”

We. There might be others, then? Jimmy and False, and . . . who? Where are they going? Is there possibly somewhere safe?

“Is everyone else safe?” Scott asks, peering down over the land. They’re passing over a forest, the leaves more black than green. He shudders to think of what might’ve happened to the animals living there.

Jimmy leans on his elbows against the deck’s railing, hands clasped loosely in front of him. “Some of them. There’s me and False, of course. Sausage—we’re staying at Sanctuary, he’s doing some sort of magic-thing to keep ‘em out. fWhip’s fine, Gem’s fine—they’re waiting for us. There’s others who are all right, just aren’t in Sanctuary. Some we aren’t sure of.”

“I imagine Joel’s fine, then,” Scott says, thinking of his eleven-foot neighbor in his floating kingdom. Joel’s pretty much untouchable up there—and what would stop him from just ascending to avoid all this?

But Jimmy, head turned to survey the land, says shortly, “Joel’s dead.”

Before Scott even knows it, his eyes are brimming with tears. He can—he can blame that on the wind, right? Because he’d barely known Joel, really, they hadn’t even been friends. . . .

But Joel’s dead. Joel is dead, and if the god is dead, what sort of hope is there for him? What sort of hope is there for any of them? Forget that he’s just been rescued—it’s certainly only delaying the inevitable, because Joel is dead and thereby, they all are.

“I—how?” asks Scott, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

Jimmy doesn’t answer for a long moment, looking off at seemingly nothing. “Hubris, you might say.” The look in his eyes is distant, sad, and it comes as no surprise when Jimmy turns away and heads back up to the stern, taking his place beside False.

There’s no time to mourn. This is an apocalypse situation, and Joel is dead and his llamas are dead and there’s barely any hope of survival, because below him, all Scott can see is death.

Just as he’d realized earlier, he has to show his usefulness. Any dead weight will be cut, and Scott desperately needs to stay aboard. Not that they have a chance, not if Joel’s dead, but he at least wants to see his friends one last time. He can’t die here.

With that reminder, Scott readjusts his shovel at his hip, then jogs back to False, looking for any job he can do.

-

fWhip and Gem greet them at the doors of Sausage’s church. Gem pulls Scott into a hug—he hugs her back as tight as he can—then releases him to hug False and Jimmy, while fWhip pats Scott on the elbow (the goblin can’t reach any higher) and leads him inside.

They’ve set up the church as some sort of headquarters, Scott understands immediately, seeing the maps and drinks and blankets strewn about the foyer. There’s a bed made in the corner, a half-eaten plate of food beside it. Scott’s stomach growls, but he ignores it in favor of heading toward the chapel. Surely that’s where Sausage is, and he really wants to hug the man (Sausage has always been so good at comforting, never judgemental, there’s a reason he gets along with just about everyone and Scott thinks that maybe, if Sausage tells him everything will be all right, then it will).

fWhip holds out an arm to bar the way. “Let’s not go in there right now, yeah?” he says easily, leading Scott instead to the table of maps. “Sit down, sit down! Make yourself at home! We’ve been sleeping at the tavern, so we’ll show you your room later, but this is where we spend a lot of our time! Either here or out on watch, you know?”

Scott doesn’t sit down, instead leaning against the table. He still feels a bit . . . wired, he supposes. His brain is still in fight-or-flight. He doesn’t want to sit, doesn’t want to be sedentary.

Gem and False file in, Gem going straight to the plate of food, False collapsing into a chair. Scott watches for Jimmy, but he doesn’t follow.

“It’s really good to see you, Scott,” Gem says warmly, handing him the plate. As if on cue, Scott’s stomach rumbles—he’d forgotten that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. And he doesn’t mind a bit of shared food, so he tosses the bread into his mouth, asking around the bite, “Who else is here?”

Gem grimaces. “Just . . . it’s just us, Scott. But there are others! They just aren’t here.”

“What Gem’s trying to say is that we’ve sort of been search-and-rescue, here, and now that we’ve got you, we can rescue the next person,” fWhip puts in helpfully. “We’ve been keeping eyes around. After all, we got you!”

Scott swallows, sets the plate down. He suddenly doesn’t feel all that hungry. “Who else have you saved?”

fWhip glances around. “Well, you, me, Shelby—except—”

“Shelby isn’t here, you said.”

“Shelby . . . Shelby fell out of contact,” fWhip says. “She was out keeping track of Katherine while we planned our rescue mission for you. But we haven’t been able to reach her in a few days.”

“We have these new things,” Gem interjects, and the nervous smile on her face tells Scott all he needs to know. They think Shelby’s dead, and they don’t want to talk about it.

A muted feeling of dread is beginning to grow in the back of his mind.

From her pocket, Gem pulls a copper redstone device of some sort, a bit of glass on the front of it and a couple of buttons on the side. “False made them! They can send messages to other devices instantly, so we can keep in contact! Look—”

She presses one of the buttons, and the glass lights up. Scott’s seen a couple of things similar to this in his travels, but when it reacts to her touching the screen, tapping on Jimmy’s name and pulling up a whole different display, he knows this is completely beyond his experience. And, at the moment, completely beyond his interest. Maybe when he’s less tense, less exhausted.

“See, Jimmy messaged me when you guys got on the airship!”

Sure enough, there is text on the screen that apparently comes from Jimmy: Got Scott. On our way back. Then a response from Gem: Can’t wait to see him! Stay safe all three of you!

“False has been crafting them herself!”

“fWhip helped,” False amends, nodding her head in the goblin’s direction. “I couldn’t remember a lot of the circuitry. He helped with that.”

“We’ll get you one as soon as we can get some more redstone,” fWhip adds.

Scott nods a couple of times. This is great and all, but there’s still that dread. . . . “So, what do we know? Is everyone else . . . dead?”

The three exchange a look, air suddenly thick with tension. After a moment, Gem speaks.

“Um. Did Jimmy tell you about Joel?”

“Yeah. I know about Joel, and. . . .” he still doesn’t know how to feel about it. He certainly still doesn’t have time to mourn. “But everyone else?”

“Right.” fWhip bites his lip—which looks painful, with how long and sharp some of his teeth are. “Well, Shubble’s gone out of contact. Jimmy came and got me from my cave about two weeks ago, and he and Gem and False all kind of met up to come to Sanctuary. Sausage is here, too. Lizzie. . . .”

“Lizzie was here,” Gem picks up when fWhip looks away. “She and Jimmy . . . they had some disagreements about how the camp was being run. About a week ago, she left.”

“Pirate Joe was here, too,” False says. “He left to look for safe land elsewhere.”

“Katherine’s in the same kind of situation you were,” fWhip says. “We just saved you first. We’re hoping to get her in the next couple of days. We haven’t seen anything of Pix or Oli. And . . . that about sums things up.”

“So . . . where is Sausage?”

Again, they exchange a look. Scott has to make a conscious effort to not roll his eyes.

“Sausage has kinda . . . gone off the deep end,” fWhip says eventually. “He’s in the chapel most of the time, praying to that St. Pearl of his. Love him to death and all, but he just kinda mutters to himself and isn’t all that helpful.”

Well, there must be something to Sausage’s prayers, if Sanctuary is indeed safe. And Scott isn’t exactly a religious man—sure, he’s prayed a fair amount, but he usually just picks whatever god comes to mind first and rolls with it—but it seems kind of disrespectful to pick on the man’s religion when he’s offering them a home. And presumably protecting them with said prayers!

But Scott’s the new person here, and he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t quite figured out the status quo yet, and he wants to fly under the radar a little while longer. “Where did Jimmy go?” he asks instead.

“Oh, probably patrolling,” fWhip waves off. “He works himself too hard, that sheriff of ours. But it’s getting to be nighttime, so one of us should probably go take over, make him go to bed.”

Sure enough, a glance out the front window tells Scott that the sun does appear to be setting. And really, he wouldn’t mind an opportunity to explore what sort of borders they have here, how far out he can venture. As he opens his mouth to volunteer for first watch, though, Gem cuts him off.

“Scott, you need to go to bed too. You look like you haven’t slept in days!”

Just one day, really—though his sleeps have been rather restless as of late.

And while he would certainly appreciate a safe place to rest, he’s still a bit tightly wound. He hasn’t really got any idea of how they expect him to be able to sleep.

But Scott just nods, tossing whatever is left on the plate into his mouth and gesturing for the others to lead the way.

Gem shows him up the winding path—past villagers and a child and oh how Scott’s heart aches for his llamas—and to the inn, which is empty but for one tired serving staff, rubbing a glass with a dishrag.

“If you need anything to eat or drink, just help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” Gem whispers. “Jimmy wants to start rationing soon, but it doesn’t really matter what you take right now.”

“How many people are here?” Scott asks in the same tone, nodding toward the worker. Gem starts heading up a staircase against the right side wall, beckoning for him to follow.

“Most of Sanctuary’s citizens, and maybe a dozen refugees. It feels like we lose another person every day, though—people who think they can go beyond the border just for an hour to gather crops, or kids who accidentally wander too far.”

For a brief instant, Gem’s face is shadowed with grief as she looks back at Scott, but it’s soon erased, a smile plastered on.

Of course. Much like Scott, Gem hasn’t had time to grieve. He’d be surprised if anyone has.

Gem stops beside a door halfway down the hallway, twisting the knob and letting him in.

The room is small, but bright, a carpet made of green and orange segments in the center of the room. The duvet on the bed is purple, which matches nothing in the room, but combined with the colors of the rug makes Scott’s heart ache for Chromia.

There’s a classically carved wardrobe off to one side, a large window with drawn, plain curtains taking up a good portion of the far wall, and a small wooden table beside the bed that has a lamp and an empty glass upon it. Those three pieces of furniture take up almost the entire room; but though it’s small, it’s safe. Scott’s not had that guarantee in some time.

“I’m right next door, so just knock if you need anything!” Gem says brightly. “And there’s always somebody up, so if you just . . . need somebody, check the church or the outpost. Good night!”

And then she’s gone, door shut softly behind her, before Scott can even ask where and what the outpost is.

After a moment, he sits on the bed. It sinks under his weight a bit, the duvet wrinkling.

What’s he supposed to do? Just sit here as the sun sets, trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened?

Well, there’s at least a few things he can do. He pulls his shovel from his belt loop, rests it against the wardrobe, then takes his hat off and rests it inside, on a little shelf.

There’s a mirror fixed to the inside of the door of the wardrobe, and he stares at his reflection for a moment.

He really does look pretty bad, doesn’t he? His eyes are ringed with shadows (for a moment, his imagination sees those shadows as crawling and devouring and he shudders), face waxy and breaking out in patches, hair tangled and greasy. It needs a trim, he thinks absently, tugging on the ends that almost reach his shoulders.

He’d put his coat back on when they landed, and now he shrugs it off, and when he goes to hang it up his elbow bumps the mirror.

Scott is quick to steady it as it swings a bit, scraping against the wood, and he can’t help but think that if he had let the mirror fall he might be deserving of the bad luck its shattering would bring.

It’s that bump against the mirror that allows the scrap of paper behind it to flutter to the floor.

Scott finishes hanging his coat in the wardrobe before bending over to pick up the paper—and there’s writing on it.

Someone had left a secret message.

The message is scrawled in messy handwriting, all letters capitalized and difficult to decipher (several words are completely illegible), but when Scott understands, he feels a drop of fear bleed through his soul, the dread itching at his mind rearing up.

DON'T TRUST H—. — KILLED — WOULD DO IT AGAIN.

#empires smp #esmp #empiresblr #empires smp fanfic #scott smajor #hubris au #mas writes #there aren't going to be any blatant ships in this #like scott's very gay and finds people attractive but no dating will occur #and i dont think he's really looking for romance during the apocalypse. so. #anyway jkhdfjggsfjhsdkjfgskjfgkdsgfkjsdgf welcome to hubris au!!!! #ive never really done anything horror-like so if you have any feedback it would be much appreciated #ive left as many loose ends open as i can for now so if you have theories or the like 👀👀👀 #and yah happy halloween!! #i really pushed my editing process to get this out today lol #lmk what you think! #love you guys

[soft-fella]

I don't know if this is... weird? A really strange scenario? Like, a group of friends who are very close, like 'friends with benefits' close. They're all into kinky shit, and above all else, they want to make each other feel good and have a good time. So maybe on day one of them gets fired, or demoted, or broke up with their partner, or something. And for the entire day, the friend group makes it their mission to make take their mind off of it entirely. Maybe they make their sad friend hit a blunt before they leave. They're light-headed and soft around the edges when they finally leave the house. They get swept into the food court and gorge themselves after a fit of the munchies, and then they're being handed tiny carry-on bottles of alcohol, and they're sculling down in the middle of the mall. They go shopping and pick out clothes and are handed a Redbull mixed with vodka. They have another hit in the car, feeling slow and numb while their friends make them feel good, and they go to cafes and dessert shops and buy every item of food that they look at, that they beg for, and they devour it with their bare hands. They're drunk out of their mind and can hardly see straight, are so high they can hardly remember their own name and can't form propper words with their numb lips, but they're happy, and they're loved. Their friends feed them so much food that they need their help to sit up, and they wrap both hands around it as they waddle from place to place. getting out of the car is difficult. But their friends are encouraging. "Here, you look like you need some more," they say as they press another bottle to their lips and tilt it back so they have no choice but to swallow, "You look like you need a little help", they say as they place the blunt to their lips. I just want someone to be drunk and high and stuffed all day, and for their friends to help them with it. All totally consensual of course!!

FUCK man i instantly thought of stiles. actually, not instantly. took me a couple days to reply i’m so sorry, extremely tired and ready to keel over and pass out rn

but imagine this ok. stiles and malia break up, wasn’t really meant to be, sucks but they talked it through and agreed that they weren’t really working. they’re still friends but no breakup is a walk in the park obviously, stiles is upset. rightfully so. so.

so maybe scott notices his buddy hasn’t left his apartment in a month or so. maybe scott decides to take him to the mall. retail therapy never hurt, right? he could bring a couple of his friends even!! so they make an outing out of it. allison and jackson and lydia come with, even though half of them supposedly couldn’t care less about stiles. they come anyways because scott’s really good at getting whatever the fuck he wants.

and maybe they bring stuff to help numb stiles, yeah? get him a little tipsy, maybe…. just the teensiest bit inebriated. It’s not like scott and his friends can anyways, more than half of them are supernatural beings who can’t get drunk off of alcohol.

so stiles let’s them whisk him around the mall, and while he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it used to be back when they were teenagers, he didn’t expect it to be so tiring. it didn’t help that he had gained a good sixty pounds since, putting him well over two hundred. so they took breaks often. luckily, allison had a couple tricks in her purse. she had a couple spirits on her, because stiles was like her brother and she wanted him to feel even the tiniest bit better.

they glut stiles for hours, making sure he’s feeling full and fuzzy. his belly has rounded out from all the heavy greasy food courting they had done together. stiles was grateful for it, even as his mind grew softer and warmer, as he took everything that was given to him, even the spicy buffalo wings jackson had ordered as a joke. the lingering spice still burned his mouth now as they walked towards their respective cars, even as he slurped down the dregs of his extra large dr pepper.

he was stumbling, and holding onto allison and jackson, as scott and lydia held onto bags of clothes and shoes and whatever the hell they’d bought that evening. the sun was setting, and god was it beautiful. he could feel the lingering sadness slowly dissipate, as he stared at the pink sky, the orange clouds that floated above them…. stiles almost felt like he was somewhat apart of them, and if he stopped thinking hard enough he practically already was.

till a familiar car unlocked from across the parking lot aisle, not one that belonged to scott’s truck, nooooo no no no. no this particular clicking sound belonged to a much sexier car, a sweet delicious little convertible that, to stiles, always kicked his fight or flight into full gear.

it was Derek’s camaro.

stiles turned to see him, with his bloated belly on display between the flaps of his too small flannel. he was now acutely aware of how tight his pants were clinging to his fat ass and thighs, and how pinchy his flannel was around his elbows and armpits. he could feel the warm summer breeze sweep softly against the part where his belly folded over the tight waistband of his pants, at the place where his shirt didn’t quite meet his pants at all. god it was embarrassing.

god it was hot.

nope. no he was too goddamn drunk to deal with Derek effing Hale right now.

and yet he smiled and waved as Derek approached. he heard him mention something about going home. had derek been there at the mall all this time? surely not by himself, he’d never be caught dead at. th- Oh.

there they were. the three rowdy young adults in the back of dereks camaro, fighting over the passenger seat.

stiles couldn’t help but smile. his heart couldn’t help but swell (just like my gut, he thought idly to himself). someone was tugging on his arm but he didn’t care, he didn’t really want to get into the car. not when he could very much be with derek and his pack right now.

and when he heard derek ask them if they wanted to come over, he couldn’t help but blurt out a slurred, “Yesss! Holy shit. We could make a movie night out of it.”

and he really couldn’t help but melt when derek nodded (very obviously struggling to hold back a smile), and said, “Alright. Meet you at my place.”

#th is #much longer than i anticipated #minors dni #fat!stiles #chubby!stiles #tw drunk #intox link #wg kink #stuffing kink #also sorryyyyy if this didn’t make sense #very tired ugh #also i’m a fairly new writer and i’d appreciate feedback if u have any #constructive criticism iykwim #my writing

[thetooncrew]

i need to know if this is okay to start adding lyrics to...i think it still sounds a little too cheesy at the beginning but idk what i’d do instead as the buildup...

#the melody line isnt in this specific version BTW because im still not super clear on that part #i have the chorus lyrics down but thats pretty much it #squidsong! #feel free to offer me any criticism or help on this BTW im still very amateur with this stuff and getting feedback is always appreciated :D

[understandablyirrelevant]

Chapter 16 Release

To anyone interested, the 16th Chapter of A Knight and his Squire, EXTEND “Let’s Groove Tonight” has just dropped on ao3 and will be uploaded to fanfiction.net shortly. To all who have stuck with this story, I say a heartfelt thank you.

#blazblue fanfiction #my fic #any feedback would be very much appreciated. :)

[themagical1sa]

Its totally okay that you replied okay :) sometimes we just aren't in the mood to reply (I had this ask and I was like I'll answer it tmr and to this I have not answered it XDD)

Also living hell of a country resonates with me. There is a part of me that is constantly afraid while living in this country. My family and I are a minority and well,,,it feels like I hear violent acts done everyday so there seems to be this deep seated fear in me now.

(it wasn't so bad before but I guess the country follows its government. if the government heads are violent the country follows)

Toxicity is something I am more or less familiar with I think. But i dont wanna talk about it in case my parents are toxic. I dont want to think about that XDD

BUT OMG YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY!! I LOVE THEm SO MUCH!! THE COLOURS!! THE SKETCHES!! THE MODELS!! SO PRETTY!!

up to something huh 👀 👀 I cant help but wonder

I'm doing okay :))) School has told is submit all our copies on the 2nd so I am just praying for my shoulders on that day. (I haven't completed 4 copies yet ;-;) AND my midterms are gonna start on the 17th. woooo *cries*

BUT ANYHOO! everything is else is going more or less good, teachers day is coming up so I'm thinking I'm gonna make cookies but hey lets see if I go through with it :)

Good to hear you're doing okay! 😌

How was Teachers' Day? Did you get to make cookies or did you end up doing something else entirely? o(>▽<)o

Thank you for your comments on my art! I'm super glad to hear that — I haven't drawn as properly as I did for a loooong while. January to early June has been such a blur... I guess mourning and processing the death of a loved one does that, huh? Not to mention the stress of the national elections–

–BUT either way, I've been able to grow out of it somehow. At this point I just want to make my lola proud of me, even if from heaven. 🥹

[pretty rambly about my late lola; you can skip!] Speaking of my late lola, I had a haircut last July a couple weeks before my birthday — I decided on a wolf cut. It promoted my natural wavy hair which was a lot like her natural wavy-curly hair (I used to have my hair straightened via rebonding). A few days later, my dad had a dream where lola (aka his mom) told him about how she liked my hair. On the morning of my birthday, my grandmother came to me in a dream, gently patting my head and telling me how pretty I was. I even quote, "Ang ganda ng apo ko." (Tagalog: My granddaughter is so pretty.) 🥹🥹🥹 💗💗💗

You 🤝 Me living in a hell of a country and government

We sure do live in scary times, Anza... so here's to our survival against the odds! 🍹🍹

#[ 🗣️ | the magical girl replies ] #[ 🦋 | anzanxious ] #keeping up with Capi #highkey rambled abt my lola oops #i'm kind of over it i guess? at the very least i can say she watched me grow up from infant to literal teenage young adult :'D #altho ngl during nat'l elections i was. grieving for her even MORE because she remembered growing up in the Marcosian ML era and it was #scary for her. and now they're back in Malacañang 💀 #same tyrant family different generation of Capi . . . #I swore to her I'd never let her memory die. nor any Marcosian victim under martial law era #the vice president sara duterte is secretary of the educ dept. and there's an underlying agenda of historical erasure OR distortion and #i fear for current and future youth tbh #we're gonna see a gen of Filipino kids raised with mis- AND disinformation 🧍 #tl;dr to lola i'm so sorry we failed but rn we're doing what we can #BIG BIG TY ABT MY ART AGAIN BTW any and all feedback r very much appreciated

[wildcard-rumi]

.

#feel free to ignore me #i just gotta vent about pointless again and this is pretty much the only place i can do thag #i just don't know why i bother anymore #i am genuinely like i expect nothing and i'm still let down #sure writing my memey chat fic doesn't take as much energy as other stuff #but it still hurts when no one has anything to say about the new chapters #like there's still jokes i'm proud of and little callbacks to previous chapters and such #but no nothing about any of that #like this time i had people telling me to take care of myself irl which i appreciate it's very sweet of them #but i mean it took three days for me to write this chapter i know it doesn't seem like it but it did #could you at least tell me something just anything you liked about it? #am i actually being selfish wanting feedback this badly? because i always get people saying that whenever i ask people to comment #i don't know... i'm just constantly tired and pissed off nowadays #have been for the past year and a half cause this burnout just won't fuck off #i really am so close to giving up #like if one more story fails i'm just done i can't keep putting in all that effort to get nothing #delete later

[pikkish]

you have no idea how happy i was to see the new chapter 🥺💚

Aw, thanks! Sorry to keep you waiting so long for it, haha. Hopefully, I won't take quite as long on the next one.

#pikspeak #i do; unfortunately; get distracted very easily #as im sure youve seen if youve been hangin around my tumblr #i will probably continue to skip around from project to project many more times before the next chapter is out #u dont need to worry though i may set it down every now and again but i have no intentions of abandoning HTPAS just yet!! #ill keep comin back to it sooner or later. still got a lot i want to do with it #at any rate thank u so much for readin it! and thank u for letting me know!! #not gonna lie i feed off praise for my work and the surest way to get me to make more is to give me feedback hsbdhdbdhdb #so i appreciate it!

[lavellyne]

anyone who owns switch... have you ever bought a digital version of a game and then a physical copy of it? how does the console react? does anything happen, are there any issues following having two copies at once?

#rb #not art #lave asks #any issues besides spending on the same thing twice haha... #i'm really fond of owning physical copies of media. i collect games movies and songs for this very reason #and persona 5 royal has been dropping in price while i see it on the shelves #but i already have a digital copy because it was on a huge sale and i was rushed by the sale end date :'> #i don't think i will buy a copy 100% esp if it comes with issues later on and only if it becomes like insanely cheap #for now there's too much hype for it #enough rambling tho. any feedback is appreciated!

[magiclikeacharlie]

So I've been working on an item-only Jumpdoc, compiling the items from various other Jumps (with credit!) Let me know what you think? (If you're the other of one of the used Jumpdocs and want me to remove your items, please let me know, I'll be happy to do so.

#jumpchain #jumpdoc #The Treasure Trove jumpdoc #please note: this is still very much in progress and any feedback is appreciated #please be gentle tho

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

—

Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

—

A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

—————————————————

You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

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Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

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The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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