#anyway i keep reading over this should it be pre established or established

[prismuffin]

Miles morales x super genius male reader, maybe him trying to hide his secret identity from reader but reader figures it out 🧃

A/n: hi 🧃!! Miles Morales is currently my fixation so I’m writing this first despite it coming last! Can be read as Spiderverse or PS4 Miles!

Observant

Miles Morales x genius!male!reader

( summary: it doesn’t take a genius to see that your boyfriend, Miles, is hiding something. Luckily you are one so you piece things together a little easier )

Warnings?: *pre-established relationship~ light swearing, talks of bruising

!-!more under the cut!-!

You were currently sat in calculus, two seats behind the newer Spider-Man, or Miles Morales, as you know him. He was unmasked and was blending in as a normal student, and though he could fool everyone else you knew better than to fall for his façade. It started around 2 months ago, you'd notice the small bruises that would liter his body while you both were changing in the locker room after gym. You were worried, so you watched him a little closer to make sure he and his home life were alright. However, by looking a little closer you'd notice how he'd disappear right before the newer Spiderman would show up. You noticed how Ganke always covered for him, he always had some sort of excuse for Miles' sudden absence. He was rarely home or in his dorm on the weekends and whenever you'd call him he'd sound super out of breath as if he'd been running all day...or swinging as you deduced. It all just made sense, of course it was him and you were fine with it but you were kind of hurt as well. It's obvious that Ganke knows and that they both think that you don't know and there's no signs that they're ever going to tell you.

As the teacher drowned on and on your stare on Miles only got harder and sharper. Lately he'd been pulling away from you and you have a feeling it's because of this new Spiderman gig. Recently there had been a big fight with a villain group known as The Silencers that ended with a large bridge being destroyed and where did all the blame go? Right onto your boyfriends shoulders. He was blamed for the damage of course, podcasts, news stations, and papers were all talking about the event and you were guessing that it'd made him slightly afraid of the future. He was going to break up with you because of it, you could feel it. He "doesn't want to endanger you" or "get you hurt." You could almost hear him saying it. You wonder if the only reason he hasn't yet is because he can't think of an excuse.

The bell rang and you sighed. You should probably confront him before he tries to end things, you love Miles but you know he can get stuck in his head sometimes. Packing up your things, you rushed to his side so you both could walk to lunch together.

“Ganke caught a cold so I guess it’ll just be us today.” Miles spoke as you both exited the classroom. You nodded, deciding that confronting him alone was probably better for you anyway. After grabbing your respective lunches you suggested eating somewhere other than the lunchroom because it’s usually very loud and crowded, and telling your boyfriend that you know he’s Spider-Man in there could lead to someone overhearing. So now you both were walking and talking while Miles attempted on snacking little by little as you made your way to the Music room. It’s usually empty at lunch, though there could be a few stragglers. Still, it’s the only place private enough without being a broom closet or something. Opening the door to the classroom you let out a breath of relief as you realized it was empty, this was great. So now you just have to ask him.

Miles started talking as you both sat down across from each other, a smile was on his face as he could now properly dig into his food. Scanning over him you noticed his knuckles were a bit bruised and you squinted, your eyes flickering back to his. You just couldn’t keep the small attitude you had at bay. It was almost insulting that he thought you wouldn’t figure it out. Either way you loved him, and him being Spider-Man doesn’t change that and now you have to let him know. Placing your hand over his, he stopped his chewing momentarily before smiling and switching to grab your hand properly. “Miles,” you stares into his eyes as he nodded with a hum to signal you to continue. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something- well, it’s more like tell you something I guess.” You shrugged and he swallowed, glancing to the side in what you guessed was nervousness. “Is everything alright?” He asked and you nodded, “yeah nothings wrong with me but-“ you sighed, this was weirdly a lot harder to say than you thought. “You know you can talk to me about anything right?” Your eye twitched at the irony of the situation and you sighed.

“Funny you say that actually, ‘cause you seem to have not been so honest with me.” you started, furrowing your eyebrows a bit, Miles' nervous smile returned to his face. "I- what?" "You're Spider-Man." You stated, deciding to just get straight to the point. Miles' mouth was left agape at your bluntness. His eyes left yours but only for a second before his mouth slowly closed, an audible gulp projecting into the room. "I...whatttt,," he shifted back, giving a few chuckles as his eyes flickered away from you. "That's- that's crazy Y/n, I think you've been pulling too many all-nighters lately." His smile faltered as you rolled your eyes. "You're a terrible liar," He let out a deep exhale, flopping forward completely resting himself on the desk in front of him. "How did you know? Did Ganke tell you?" He asked, lifting his head just enough to look at you. "No," you spoke with a laugh, "I'm just not an idiot," You crossed your arms and smirked. "It's really not the hard to connect the dots Miles, honestly I'm a little insulted that you'd think I wouldn't notice that something was going on with you." Picking himself up, he sighed, a small frown resting on his face as he thought over his next words. "Look I'm sorry I never told you, it's not that I don't trust you but I just-" "Don't want me to get hurt?" He slowly nodded, "Miles-" "It's dangerous Y/n," "I know that, but it'll be ok." You grabbed his face in your hands, massaging his jawline to calm him down, smiling at the feeling of him leaning into your touch. "Because if I'm ever in danger...I know you'll be there to protect me." You leaned in to place a small kiss under his eye, "I don't want this to be something that pulls us apart.." you mumble and Miles sighs, placing his hand on top of yours. "I don't either..." Leaning in quickly, he placed a kiss to your lips before giving you a wide smile. "And it won't, I promise." "Good."

----!----

( I hate the way I wrote this I'm sorry )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED but you can still send in asks or message me to see if I'm close to opening them again!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#Istg I never know how to end these #miles morales #miles morales x male reader #miles morales x reader #x reader #x male reader #male reader #fanfiction #marvel x reader #spiderman miles morales #marvel x male reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x you #ps5 miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader #miles morales spiderman #prismuffin #marvel fanfiction #ps4 miles morales

[justagalwhowrites]

Hi! Soooo I've read a lot of amazing Joel Miller fics, but Lavender is seriously my all time favorite. Doc and Joel's story just made me so emotional. Here's my request for a drabble/oneshot- a sneak peak into Doc and Joel's relationship when they first get together pre-outbreak. Specifically, Joel takes Doc out on a nice dinner date for the first time and she feels super special and they are starting to catch so many feels for each other. Thank you!!!

OMG Hi Bestie!

So you sent this ask in like... 1.5 million years ago and this isn't EXACTLY it but... I think it fits the vibe. I hope. So here's Joel and Doc's first Valentine's Day together. I hope you like it!

Cupid

You and Joel spend Valentine's Day together. A Lavender one shot. Can be read as a stand alone with the understanding that Joel and Reader have an established relationship.

^We're gonna pretend that's Joel for this, OK? OK.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (From Lavender)

CW: Smut :) Just some fluffy, fun, p in v smut. They're in love and we love that for them. Pre-Outbreak. Age gap but not the focus of the fic (11 years, reader is 22 Joel is 33.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only.

Length: 3.8k

Wednesday, February 14, 2001

You’d never had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day before. 

The thought made you oddly nervous. Not that Joel had given you anything to be nervous about, of course, but you were. Valentine’s Day had always just been another day for you. Sometimes Nan got you one of the little boxes of chocolates but, otherwise, it had never been something you had a reason to celebrate. You were just so used to ignoring it that, until Saturday, you hadn’t even thought about Valentine’s Day. 

You’d been in bed with Joel. It was late and your bodies were pressed close together, his skin on yours, your nose nuzzled into his throat, your head still a bit fuzzy from the orgasms. 

“How do you feel about goin’ to dinner Wednesday?” He asked softly, his fingers trailing over your side, lips in your hair. 

You frowned against him. 

“Doesn’t Sarah have practice?” 

“Canceled,” he said. “Besides, I was gonna get Tommy to take her, anyway. He’s already taking her for the night so we can have some privacy.” 

You frown deepened and you felt him chuckle against you. 

“Did you forget?” He asked. 

“No,” you said defensively. “I just… didn’t know there was something to forget.” 

He laughed a little again. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day baby,” he said. “Fully intend on takin’ full advantage of any holiday that lets me romance you.” 

Joel seemed to mean it. By Wednesday night, you didn’t know the details of what he was planning - you didn’t get to see him on Tuesdays, Sarah had Girl Scouts across town and your classes ran too late to see him before her meeting - but he’d sent flowers to your apartment the day before your date, timed when you were home for lunch between classes with a card that said he loved you and told you to be ready to go at 5:30 Wednesday night. 

You weren’t sure if you were doing your part in this right at all. You’d spent a good chunk of Sunday shopping and cursing yourself for not remembering freaking Valentine’s Day. It’s not like there weren’t heart shaped boxes of candy sitting out every time you went to the grocery store, it should have occurred to you. It just hadn’t even registered that it would apply to you now. 

You at least had an idea of what you wanted to get him and weren’t going in completely blind. You’d been keeping an eye out at thrift stores for vintage shirts from his favorite bands, never exactly hunting for them but always checking the men’s section when you went in to find something for yourself. You also had a picture from a trip to a museum of you, Joel and Sarah had made that you’d been keeping to give him at some point, wanting to frame it for him. 

It took a few hours - and stops at four different thrift stores - but you eventually found a Fleetwood Mac shirt that you thought was from the 70s and was wearing thin in a few places but you were sure he’d like it. You found the perfect frame, too, the wood cracking at the sides but you had a plan for that. 

You fixed the frame, coloring the glue forest green so it was like vines were growing on a tree and put the picture of the three of you in it. It was off center, you’d been holding the camera away from yourselves and hoping that you were all in the frame. You were looking at Sarah, she was looking at you and Joel had his perfect, crooked smile that made his cheek dimple and his eyes shine. 

You made brownies that afternoon, covering them in pink glaze and red heart sprinkles before piling them on a plate and sneaking a bite of one before getting ready. You took a curling iron to your hair and did your makeup and painted your nails red before slipping into a dress you’d found when shopping for Joel’s shirt, black and form fitting and you tried to not feel like an imposter as you tied the red ribbon around the half ponytail at the back of your head. 

There was a knock at your door and you took a last look at yourself in your bedroom mirror, breathing deep and trying to calm your thudding heart before you answered it. 

“Jesus, baby,” Joel said, a look of almost awe on his handsome face as you opened the door. “Should warn a man before you show up lookin’ like that…” 

“Is it too much?” You asked, looking down at yourself. “I can change…” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. “You look fuckin’ amazing.” 

You put your arms around his neck and kissed him, smiling against his mouth, before stepping back from him. He’d dressed up, too, in black jeans with a white button down shirt that he’d tucked in and worn with a belt. He even had on a tan blazer, one that looked almost too small for his broad shoulders.

“You look so good!” You were practically giddy, hands going over your mouth to keep from sounding too excited. Joel laughed a little. 

“Don’t know if it warrants that much of a reaction. But figured I’d at least try to look like I belonged out with someone as pretty as you,” he teased and you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, we don’t leave now we are in very real danger of not making it out of the house, you are too damn tempting.” 

Joel led you to his truck - which was almost shockingly clean, water from the car wash still dripping from his bumper - and opened the door for you, offering you his hand as you climbed in. 

“So,” you smiled as he started driving. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see,” he smiled back. “Believe it or not, had something cookin’ for a minute.” 

His hand found the inside of your knee, the callus of his thumb stroking the skin there. You tried to figure out where you were going as he drove but you were still caught totally off guard when he parked in front of a French restaurant you’d been dying to try. 

“Are you kidding me?” You gasped. “Joel!” 

He laughed and took your hand, kissing your  knuckles. 

“Know you’ve been wanting to try it,” he said. “Turns out a guy on my crew’s sister works here so I could wrangle a reservation…” 

“This is amazing!” You were practically giddy, going to open your door, but Joel stopped you. 

“Gotta let me try to be a gentleman,” he kissed your hand again. “Sit tight.” 

He got out and jogged around the front of the truck, opening your door and offering you his hand. 

“Why thank you sir,” you said, trying to sound aloof and dignified. You didn’t think you pulled it off, too busy smiling to make it convincing. He pulled you in close and pressed a kiss to your temple before putting his hand on the small of your back and guiding you into the restaurant. 

They sat you at a table in a secluded corner, a white tablecloth and the low glow of a candle setting the scene. The host handed you a menu in a leather book with a gold tassel on the end and you waited for him to leave the table before you mouthed “oh my god” at Joel, who smiled and laughed quietly across the table. 

The menu had was full of French foods you’d only dreamed of trying at a restaurant: coq au vin, confit de canard, gigot d’agneau. There was even boeuf bourguignon. But the prices made your eyes go wide, your newly-painted nails digging into the leather of the menu. 

“Don’t think I can get that beef you make,” Joel said absently, looking at the menu. “Not gonna measure up to yours, don’t care how good the restaurant is…” 

“Joel,” you whispered over your menu. He looked up from his, brows raised. “We really don’t need to eat here…” 

He frowned. 

“Not seein’ something you want?” He asked. “We can go somewhere else, might be hard to get a table but…” 

“No!” You shook your head quickly. “No, the food looks great but…” 

You bit your lip and trailed off and he watched you, waiting for you to finish. 

“But?” He asked eventually. 

“But this place is…” you lowered your voice. “This is expensive. We really don’t have to eat here just because I’ve talked about it, we can go anywhere, we can just order a pizza if you want, I really don’t need all this, this is…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off, a crooked smile on his face. “Don’t worry about the price. Been wanting to take you here since this place opened, set aside some money for it. Get whatever you want.” 

“But…” 

He set the menu down and crossed his arms over the table, leaning over it toward you. 

“You gonna let me spoil my girl for Valentine’s Day or are you gonna give me trouble?” He asked. You frowned a little, thumb toying with the corner of the menu. Joel tilted his head until you met his gaze. “I mean it, baby. Really want to do this. Please let me?” 

“OK,” you said, still uncertain and looking at the menu again, looking for the least expensive entree.

“Swear to god you order the cheapest thing, we’re comin’ back next week,” Joel said as though he read your mind. “You’d better get what you actually want.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, trying your best to ignore the price column on the menu.

You settled on the duck and Joel got the steak frites and, once the numbers were out of your head, you were able to relax more, savoring the wine and running your heel-clad foot over the inside of Joel’s leg from across the table. 

“You would’ve been makin’ fun of me last night, Baby,” he smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “Remember how I told you Sarah didn’t know what she wanted to bring to school for Valentine’s Day?” 

“Yeah,” you frowned. 

“Well,” he laughed. “She decided yesterday she wanted cupcakes. So we stopped by the store on the way home from scouts, got the themed cake mix, all that. But she really wanted to try and do it herself so I started out just supervisin’… ended up running the cake mix through the pasta strainer to get all the egg shells out of it, that girl was in rare form…” 

“Oh no!” You laughed, loud enough that the table close to you shot you a glare and you tried not to laugh harder when you quieted down. “How’d they turn out?” 

“Alright I think,” he said. “They were kinda lopsided but tasted fine. We split one this morning.” 

“You send her off to school with a sugar high?” You teased. 

“Not from half a cupcake,” he waved you off. “The little box of candy I caved and let her have this morning did that.” 

You giggled. 

“I’m sure her teacher appreciated that.” 

“I’m just hopin’ with the sweets from school it carried through to when Tommy picked her up from school,” he smirked a little. “Think I owe ‘em for loading her up with candy after Halloween last year, as if she didn’t have enough already…” 

The food was incredible, so good you had to set your fork down to focus on the flavor of the first bite, Joel smiling almost proudly from across the table. By the time you were done, you were two glasses of wine deep - Joel ordering a second for you before you could stop him - and he was holding your calf under the table, hand sliding over the muscle to cup your ankle, thumb massaging the tendon there. 

“You’ve been playin’ a dangerous game over there, baby,” he said, voice low. 

“You’re hot,” you said, almost shyly. “Can’t help it.” 

“Thinkin’ I should get you home,” he said. “Get you outta that dress.” 

“I’m thinking you’re right,” you said, heat settling low around your hips. 

Joel’s mouth was on you before you even got your front door closed, your arms around his neck and his hands on your ass, holding you tight to the front of him. 

“I,” you kissed him. “Got,” another kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Something.” 

“Really?” 

Another kiss as you nodded. 

“Didn’t need to do that, baby…” 

“Too bad,” you smiled, kissing him long and hard before pulling back from him. “I like doing stuff for you, too, you know.” 

You took his hands and led him to your bedroom, sitting him on the bed before handing him the box with the shirt and frame inside. He opened it almost reverently, a little smile pulling up at the corners of his lips as he did. 

“It’s not as good as what you did,” you said, sitting next to him, twisting your fingers around on themselves as he lifted the lid of the box. 

“Oh, baby,” he said softly, picking up the frame, his thumb tracing the parts you’d repaired. “This is perfect… when was this?” 

“Remember when Sarah and I were on Christmas break and we went to the natural history museum the day before New Year’s Eve?” You said. 

“That was a good day,” he smiled down at the picture before setting it on your nightstand and he laughed as he got out the shirt. “Where the hell’d you find this?” 

“I’ve been keeping an eye out,” you smiled. “It’s well loved but I did wash it already…” 

He cut you off with a kiss before you could finish, dropping the box and the shirt to the floor as he pulled you against him, his lips insistent and needy on yours. He quickly shrugged out of his jacket as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and he unzipped your dress. You got each other undressed quickly, his mouth on yours as he lay you below him, his large hand cupping your pussy before he slipped two fingers between your swollen, slick lips, tracing over your entrance before sliding up to tease your clit as he settled between your thighs. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he panted against you, pushing his fingers into your tight channel, just up to the first knuckle. “This all for me, baby?” 

You nodded and tried to pull him closer, to bring his body fully against your own, but he stayed just far enough away that you could feel the warmth of his skin but not the softness of him itself. You groaned and he smiled as he trailed kisses over your jaw to your throat. 

“Seems like you might want somethin’,” he teased a little. You just nodded. “Should say what you want, baby, so I know what to give you.” 

“You,” your fingers scrambled over his back, desperate to find some kind of leverage. “Want you, please Joel…” 

He kissed you gently but you could feel the hunger behind it. He needed you, too, you could feel it in him. 

“OK baby,” he said softly, lining himself up at your entrance, the swell of his cock just close enough to start to part your walls without pushing in. “Give you what you want…” 

He kissed you as he pressed into you, a moment of resistance before the thickness of his shaft entered you. You whimpered at the stretch of him, arching into his touch, your pussy already starting to tighten and flutter around him. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “You already close?” 

You just nodded as he pushed deeper, his cock opening you to him until he was fully inside you, his head pressed firmly against the part of you that made you press your hips up against him and your fingers dig into his skin. You felt yourself pulse around him once before going even tighter as he moaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. 

“Goddamn you feel good,” he panted. “Not gonna last once you come baby, tellin’ you that right now…” 

“S’OK,” you clumsily rocked your hips up against his, desperate for that last little bit of friction you needed to push yourself over the edge. “Just… I need…” 

“I got you,” he said, pressing somehow deeper and making you whimper below him. “Give you just what you need. Take such good care of you, baby, promise I will.” 

He started slow but hard, the steady drag of his cock as he pulled back from you followed by the firm, heavy thrust of him as he fucked back into you. You matched his rhythm, moving your body in time with his, his skin warm on your own, his brown eyes warm and soft and deep on yours. You clung to him as his pace increased, your body getting tighter around him, orgasm building until your head was fuzzy and all you could feel was the desperate heat of pleasure deep inside you. 

“Want you to come for me, baby,” Joel panted, one arm slipping below your arched back. He tilted your hips ever so slightly, the angle adjusted just enough that he could press deeper, his hips against your clit, all of him hitting you just right. You gasped at the change, your arms latching onto him tighter, your hips stuttering against him. “Oh fuck, there you go, just come for me, that’s it, c’mon, just give in to it baby, just…” 

You cried out as you came, Joel holding you close and tight, his movements never slowing as he chased his own orgasm inside you, thrusting hard and deep until he pressed against the back wall of you as you throbbed over him, coming undone with a shaky groan. You felt him pulse inside of you, emptying himself deep until he went limp on top of you. He adjusted quickly as you caught your breath, rolling onto his back and taking you with him so you ended up sprawled on top of him, your nose nuzzled against his neck as he held you, his large palm gently tracing over your back. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you hummed happily, whole body feeling soft and hazy as you just focused on his skin against yours. 

“You’re too good to me,” you sighed as you snuggled into him. You could feel him frown. 

“Why’d you say that?” 

“Because you are,” you kissed his neck. “You did way too much for me today, I can’t measure up.” 

“Hey,” he said quietly, pulling back from you just enough that he could look into your eyes. “Don’t say that, that ain’t true…” 

“Yes it is,” you said, running your fingers through his curls. “I loved it, I loved it so, so much. But it’s too much, I can’t do the same in return, I don’t deserve…” 

“Yes you do,” he cut you off, giving you a little squeeze. “Baby, you do so much for me just by existing near me, you realize that?” You looked at him skeptically but he didn’t give you a chance to argue. “I mean it. My life is so much better because of you. Never thought I could love someone the way I love you, you made me understand this kind of thing existed at all. You make me laugh more than anyone else I’ve ever met and you are so damn sweet. Plus you’re so smart, I could just sit and watch how your mind works all damn day and never get bored and the fact that you’d just let me… Not to mention how you take care of me and Sarah. Never thought I’d find a woman who could love my little girl like you do. You’ve given me everything and you do it every damn day. I just wanted to try and give you some of that back.” 

“Joel,” you said softly, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 

“Never had a ton goin’ for me,” he said, smiling a little. “Always kinda figured I’d fucked my life up at some point but… I wouldn’t have Sarah or you without everything I did leading up to it. Makes me feel like I did something right to get the two of you in the end, you know?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, kissing him softly. “I know.” 

He smiled his gentle, crooked smile at you and you just looked into his chocolate brown eyes for a moment before you sat up quickly, remembering. 

“I made you brownies!” You almost jumped out of bed and Joel laughed, catching your wrist as you untangled yourself from the sheets. 

“Wasn’t done with you yet,” he tugged you closer, kissing up the inside of your arm. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “Promise.” 

You went to the kitchen and put two of the brownies onto a small plate and got a large glass of water before going back to your bedroom, Joel sitting with his back propped against your headboard. You handed him the water before you climbed in bed with him, holding the plate out to him. He laughed a little. 

“These look amazing,” he said, picking up a brownie and taking a huge bite, groaning a little in pleasure as he did. “Taste amazing too,” he said, his mouth full. “You’d have been ashamed of those cupcakes…” 

“Next time Sarah has a baking project, just call me,” you said, taking a bite of your own brownie. “I take sex in payment for culinary lessons for the right client. Namely you.” 

He smiled, tugging you against him. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You snuggled in closer. 

“Think we should make these brownies a holiday tradition,” Joel said, finishing his and kissing your temple. “These are damn good.” 

“Plenty more where that came from, Miller,” you teased a little, sucking some of the pink frosting off your thumb. “You know, this was my first real Valentine’s Day.” 

“Yeah?” Joel asked, looking down at you as best he could as you stayed tucked against his side. “I do OK?” 

“You did amazing,” you smiled. “Ruined me for all other men.” 

“Good,” he said, settling back against the headboard. “Gonna need all other men to keep their hands off you, anyway.” 

You smiled a little at that, the idea of being his and he being yours. He nuzzled down into your hair, his lips pressing against the crown of your head. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he said quietly. “First of many.” 

Your smile grew. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”  

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller x oc #smut fic #send asks #kit answers

[politemenacephd]

A Fortunate Mistake: Christmas Special

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader (+18)

Word count: 14,000 Fluff + Smut + Angst Smut Content: Dry humping, oral (reader recieving), marking bites, voyeruism, possessive language during sex, rough vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

You are a maintenance worker for the Spider Society, one who's been keeping your relationship with Miguel a secret for some time. The holidays are now just around the corner, and while everyone else is excited, Miguel seems to be struggling. You decide to try and help him out.

Note: this is based on my other fic, A Fortunate Mistake, and takes place between chap 8 - 9, but can be read as its own one-shot! There's just an established relationship here. Anyway enjoy hehe

‘Okay, hold- hold- HEY, hold it—!’

You strained your arms as your fellow maintenance workers called back, all straining in the exact same way.

You were currently hanging almost entirely vertically from a standard beam in the HQ lobby, a position that came very unnaturally to you as a human. However, you weren’t at liberty to think about that right now, as you were right in the middle of helping put up Christmas decorations.

This would usually be a relaxing activity, or at the very least a mildly inconvenient one, but for a society run by spiders the decorations had to be a little unorthodox. So instead of getting tangled in tinsel or vacuuming up pine needles, you were hoisting an entire tree up the side of the HQ wall to be stuck down at an angle.

You wiped your brow and tensed the rope one more time. ‘Alright! Pull up, up- that’s it!’

With a final grunt the tree slipped into the pre-bolted stand, and your co-worker rushed to solder it in. You loosened the rope at first just to be sure it was secure, and when the rope went slack but the tree stayed firm you threw it down entirely. Job done.

You dropped to the floor with a huff, leaning on your knees for support. The most you could manage in response to your co-workers’ cheers was a thumbs up.

‘Oh- god, fuck- okay! We did it! Good job guys, you—’

‘Hey! What are you lot up to?’

You glanced up to see Peter B. eagerly jogging towards your location, his eyes fixed on the tree. You offered him an awkward wave.

‘Hey! Peter, hi. We urgh- we’re just putting the decorations up. We’ve got like ten more trees to do but we’re halfway there, so, you know! Baby steps. Keep a- keep a positive spirit and all that.’

You expected to see Peter get excited over the decorations, but instead his smile faltered. 

‘Oh! I, uh- I thought, you guys would have got the memo!’

Your eye twitched as your own smile faltered. ‘The mem—the what? The memo about what?’

Peter physically winced. He knew already that he was going to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Aha, well… Sorry let me urgh, find it, just a- second- OH, HEY! How about you hold May while I get it out?’

As a last-ditch effort to keep you calm he grabbed his baby daughter from her carrier and thrust her body into your arms. You stumbled as May squealed and patted your cheeks.

‘Oof- Peter, uh- she’s lovely but—’

‘AH! Here it is!’

As you finally found your balance again Peter shoved a holographic message right into your face.

‘See? Uh- last minute change, elites said it was safer to do holographic decorations this year! So they’re just doing that. In fact, they should be about to—’

In the middle of speaking a low hum began to fill the HQ, drawing you both to glance upward. Just as he’d predicted the entire building was suddenly filled with bright, shining holographic Christmas decorations, ones that totally eclipsed the meager work you’d done.

Peter and May cooed with glee as the other spiders let out rapturous applause. You, however, looked utterly sour.

‘Oh my god… Well! Alright then. Guess I’m on lunch break early.’

You awkwardly handed Mayday back over to Peter and brushed down your clothes. He didn’t even seem to notice. You bid him goodbye and waved off the other workers, all of whom looked just as sour as you, before turning and heading for the cafeteria instead.

If you were off work early, you could at least make the most of the extra time. You could at least hope he was here.

You swung by the cafeteria and grabbed your usual to-go bag of empanadas. The girl you knew there tried to sell you on something new they were trying but you waved her off; you knew he didn’t like surprises, all he wanted was the same comfortable treat.

With lunch in hand you scaled the beams up towards the highest corridor accessible to the spiders. You ran down the corridor filled with anomaly cages, passed the go-home machine and down to the left. All the way through the eerie, empty space, back to the person you wanted to see the most.

Back to him. Back to Miguel.

You shoved his office door aside with dramatic flair.

‘Miguel?’

You called out into the empty space and listened to the words echo upward into nothing. You noted that his desk was hovering about halfway up, but you couldn’t see him on it. Drat, was he busy again?

You turned a full circle in his room, awkwardly bouncing the empanada box on your hip. Where was he? Surely your luck couldn’t be that bad, right?

‘Mig—’

‘Up here.’

You jumped and glanced upward again. Ah, wait, there he was: one of his hands was draped unceremoniously over the edge of the floating desk, hanging limply with his claws extended. It seemed that your boss was lying flat on his back on the office floor.

As you went to put the empanada box in your bag for safekeeping a long string of neon red webbing cascaded down to the floor. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but secretly you were glad. This was as open as he would be that he wanted to see you.

With your bag tight around your waist you grappled onto the web and began to crawl your way up.

‘Hey there beautiful man’ you whispered as you crawled over the edge. Miguel did not respond.

He was, as you’d expected, lying flat on his back on the cold metal of his office platform. His arms were spread out and his legs slightly parted, with his eyes closed and his brow knotted.

You scooted along the rim of the office until you were sat by his head. Gingerly, you brushed a lock of his hair aside.

‘Hey Mig’ you whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, filling your gaze with red light. You tried to offer him a smile.

‘Nena.’ It was all he said, and while it was said affectionately you could feel the strain in his voice. He sounded exhausted.

‘Yep, that’s me. I uh- I brought you lunch. Your favorite.’

You pulled out the empanada box and shook it, hoping it would cheer him up. Miguel slowly closed his eyes.

‘Mmm.’

His grunt didn’t sound impressed. You put the box down beside his hand and leaned in closer. ‘You okay bud? You seem even more dry than usual.’

Once again he opened one eye, though this time he wrinkled his nose and brows. ‘Did… did you just call me, bud?’

‘Uh… yeah. Sorry. Am I, not supposed to do that?’

The two of you stared at each other for a good minute, lingering in that painfully awkward silence. You worried for a second he might get legitimately mad.

But, instead, the corners of Miguel’s mouth slowly began to twitch upward. His confusion turned to mild amusement, and a short huff of a laugh escaped his lips.

‘Ay, nena. I’ve missed you.’

You felt relieved. You glanced once at the edge of the office to make sure you were alone before pressing a tentative kiss to his forehead. ‘Sorry. I just feel bad, only calling you by your name all the time. I don’t have a cool nickname for you like you do for me’ you whispered.

You tried to pull away then, but Miguel caught you first. He used his claws to tilt your head down, pulling all the way until his lips hit yours. Your whole body went warm as he took one sweet and lingering kiss.

‘I missed you’ he repeated after pulling away. Your eyelids drooped.

‘I missed you too, Miguel.’

With a grunt your beloved pseudo-partner finally forced himself to sit up. He stretched a little as he struggled upward, and as always you were awe-struck by the sight of him. It never failed to surprise you just how large he was.

‘Mierda… Ah, you uh- did you say, you brought lunch?’ Miguel asked between rubbing his temple. You eagerly nodded.

‘Of course! Got your favorite this time.’

‘Really?’

Miguel tilted his head to glance inside the bag you’d brought, noting the labelling on the side. You had, indeed, managed to get his favorite flavor for once.

‘Good girl, nena’ he praised, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘Thank you.’

You loosened up at his stoic praise, your grin widened until your cheeks hurt. Without another word you handed over his half of the food.

You settled into your familiar routine, swinging your legs over the edge of the platform as you divided up your share of empanadas in the box. You tore the container in half to make two little plates you could eat off of to save him the cleaning, and with your plate on your lap you sat shoulder to shoulder in that empty abyss.

Miguel grunted as he checked his.

‘You didn’t get these ones as well?’ he asked, gesturing to your plate. You’d stuck with the beef empanadas, the most common ones they had, over the cheese ones you both preferred. You just shrugged.

‘Ah, yeah, but it’s fine! I’m all good.’

‘You changed your appetite?’ he asked, probing further as he took a tentative bite of his own to check the temperature. You shrugged again.

‘Um- no, just, they only had two of the cheese ones left. That’s all.’

Miguel paused mid-bite, his eyes rolling over to stare you down. You gave him a lopsided smile.

‘You—’ Miguel stammered and swallowed hard to finish speaking. ‘You gave up your lunch for me?’

‘What? no! I mean I’m still eating, so… I didn’t, give anything up’ you replied in an oddly defensive tone. Miguel didn’t buy it though. He let out a soft sigh, his claws coming up to gently scratch at your scalp.

‘You soft thing’ he murmured. ‘At least someone cares about what I want today.’

You glanced up from relishing the intoxicating sensation of his thick, calloused fingers scratching your head, and noted the dour, bitter look in his eyes.

‘Ohhh, oh okay. What’s happened? Is it the elites again?’ you asked, whispering the last part as if one of them would hear. Miguel pinched the spot between his brows.

‘Ay por Dios- ah, yes. Yes, of course, it’s them. They’re insisting that they host a workplace, festive holiday party, even though I keep insisting we are NOT a workplace, we are an organization who need to be on the offensive at all times, and THEN they want to- do this, thing, where we all exchange gifts in secret—’

‘Oh! Secret santa?'

‘Yes, that. Have you done it?' 

‘Mhm!’ You hurriedly swallowed in order to explain properly, all while Miguel stared you down. ‘Yeah you uh- you get given a random colleague and you buy them a gift, so its fair, everyone gets one.’

‘Yes, it is- a fine tradition, for literally anywhere else’ Miguel scoffed. ‘If I’m too busy for you I’m definitely too busy for anyone else. And I don’t know what they want! How do I find out?’

‘Don’t you have access to like, everything and everyone on those monitors?’ you noted, waving a piece of empanada at his desk. Miguel shot you a disapproving look.

‘I use that to keep the multiverse safe. Not to- spy on my fellow spiders so I can find them an appropriate gift.’

‘Yeah, but… you’re not saying you CAN’T use it for that’ you insisted. Miguel’s eye twitched at your playful naivety.

‘You’re a menace’ he grunted.

‘A HELPFUL menace, with good ideas!’ you cheered.

He couldn’t help it; a small half-smile broke onto his face at the sight of your gormless joy, but it didn’t last long. The anxiety of his situation crept up on him mere moments later.

Miguel pushed his now empty box aside and sighed. While you were mid-way through your final bite he shuffled backward until he was slumped against his desk, his eyes once again closed to hide from the world.

‘I don’t want to go’ he said bluntly.

Oh boy, you thought. He was in a really bad mood this time. You hurriedly swallowed the last of your lunch, manically licking flakes of pastry from your fingers so they didn’t get grease on his suit, before crawling over the floor to his side.

He didn’t open his eyes for you but his hands did reach out to grope for your body. You squeaked as he dragged you in against his side, squeezing your upper torso against his. You were smooshed directly into his pec.

‘I don’t, want, to go’ he repeated with a hiss. You patted his chest.

‘I know big guy.’

For a while you just lay in his arms, taking in the brief respite of each other’s touch while you could. You didn’t exactly get a lot of time together. The occasional outing or the occasional night visit to his apartment was the best you could get, along with these lunch breaks whenever he wasn’t on a mission, so the chance to just touch him was one you couldn’t pass up.

He was so warm. You squished into his pec and felt his chest move as he breathed, his heartbeat thudding on your cheek. Your fingers idly fiddled with his suit while his claws scratched at your work pants.

That brief, fleeting moment of domestic bliss was intoxicating. You squeezed him lightly, and he squeezed you back.

‘Nena?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you come with me?’

Miguel’s interruption caught you very much off guard. You gabbed a little as his eyes rolled open once more, now peering at you in earnest. He was pleading with them.

‘Please’ he said softly.

‘Ah… I mean, won’t it look suspicious? I’m not a spider.’

‘You’re my friend aren’t you?’

Your face went warm. ‘I… am technically your friend, yes. I suppose.’

‘So it’s not suspicious. You had time off work, I passed you in the hall and offered for you to come. As a friend.’

You smiled, your fingers now tracing down his chest. You thought about how good he felt under the suit. That rough skin, scarred and warm, covered in thick hair you loved to run your fingers through when it was late and you were cuddling.

You knew from his sad expression he was thinking of the same. The way his hand squeezed you over your clothes, it was clear he was fantasizing about the soft, thick flesh beneath, and how warm it was when he gripped it.

‘Friend’ he repeated, his voice a little husky. You felt him bury his nose into your hair, breathing in deep.

‘Y-Yeah. Friend’ you repeated back. In that moment you both felt the same familiar spark: that unquenchable, physical magnetism, that carnal yearning you couldn’t seem to stop. Miguel squeezed you tight.

‘You’re- such, a good friend’ he whispered. Oh boy, his voice was definitely husky now. You felt him moving, bending, slowly forcing you down to the floor. His lips went from your hair to your neck.

‘M-Mig, we’re at wor- a-ah—’

You squeaked as he began to suck on your neck.

‘Mm… Mm...’

His moans were muffled against your skin. You knew he was fantasizing about biting you. You were deeply flushed, torn between your physical desire and your anxiety over being caught, but as his hands began to fumble your shirt aside you felt desire take over.

You helped him open your shirt at the top, allowing his hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. He began eagerly squeezing your breasts as he sucked and kissed your neck.

‘Ah- Mig.’ You whispered his name intensely, only barely managing to bite down a much louder moan. His fingers were so rough on your chest, and he couldn’t stop himself gently teasing your nipples to try and get another whimper out of you. You had to bite your lip to keep them down.

‘Mig- please, careful—’

‘Mm.’

He groaned into your skin and shuffled, his enormous body shifting until he was directly on top of you. You had to breathe in deep as his chest crushed your ribs.

‘Mig- M-Mig—’

‘Mmm…’

With a soft, satisfied moan Miguel began to dry-hump you over your work clothes. You could feel his clothed bulge desperately kneading between your thighs, eagerly pushing your legs apart so he could grind on your clothed cunt.

‘Mmm...’

You lay back and struggled to keep quiet as he rubbed himself out. You could hear the distant laughs and shouts of spiders somewhere beyond his office, and there was a real fear in you that they could come in at any time.

But, you didn’t tell him to stop. Why would you? After all, you were a filthy pervert for the man, and part of you kind of wanted to get caught. Part of you wanted to be his.

You moaned softly as he ground his hefty bulge just close enough to stimulate your clit. You could feel your slick soaking your panties, and you knew he was probably staining the inside of his suit with pre-cum. You clung tight to his back as his weight crushed you into the cold floor.

You were only drawn apart by one particularly loud shout. It wasn’t calling for Miguel, but it was enough to make him release you and jerk his head up. ‘Fuck… fuck.’

You could see the disappointment in his eyes as he cursed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gingerly wiped his spit from your neck.

‘Sorry, nena.’

‘I-It’s okay, it’s fine.’

With a soft moan Miguel buried his face into your hair once more. You felt his claws squeezing your waist.

‘I’d love to bite you’ he whined.

‘I know’ you panted.

‘I’d love… to bite you, and suck, and have you walk around so everyone knows you’re mine.’

You felt him give one final, needy grind between your legs before sighing and withdrawing, giving you the chance to shuffle onto your elbows.

‘What have you done to me?’ he whispered with a slight chuckle. You hurried to smooth out your clothes. ‘What have I done- why is this on me? I just brought you lunch!’

Miguel bashfully brushed his hair back as you sat up. He couldn’t help himself from looking, especially at where your pants had come down in your frantic dry humping to reveal just a little part of your panties. He was disappointed when you pulled them back up.

‘Mhm. Exactly.’ He reached out and took your chin in his hand, pausing your manic attempt to dress. ‘No one else who brings me lunch makes me want to act like this. So, clearly, there’s something about you.’

‘Ahuh. Very poetic, sir’ you teased. His eyes were so soft in contrast to his otherwise stern expression.

‘Come with me. Please.’

You finally finished sorting your clothes and shuffled into a cross legged position, facing Miguel head on. He leant his head on his upturned fist.

‘What do I get out of it?’

He snorted a laugh at your answer. ‘Ay, nena… How about, best friend status?’ he replied. He was trying to be sarcastic but you jumped at the idea.

‘Oh- oh shit, really? For real? Alright. Done. I’ll see you there, bestie!’

Miguel scowled as he watched you jump to your feet. ‘Do not call me bestie.’

You looked over your shoulder as you scavenged your things, clearly displeased by his curtness. ‘What, not even in private?’

Miguel sighed, his hand flying to his face. ‘Ay por Dios- ah, fine. In private is fine, but not in public.’

‘Aww, Mig, are you embarrassed of me?’

Miguel’s teasing seemed to fall off almost immediately at that. He looked distraught. ‘I- no, nena, of course not. No. I just- look if you start calling me that, Peter will think it’s okay! I can’t have that happening!’

You couldn’t help but giggle at Miguel’s genuine horror. You had to force yourself to stop as you gave him a sympathetic kiss on the chest.

‘Okay. I will come to your work thing. I’ll uh- distract Peter by asking about his thoughts on baby car seats, or Jess on motorcycle maintenance. You can sulk in the corner until it’s over.’

Miguel’s smile was genuine as he gazed down at you. For just a moment, things seemed like they might be alright.

‘Thank you, nena. You’re an angel.’

….

It was roughly 1pm, and you were anxiously pacing about two corridors down from where you knew the Christmas get together was happening. You were here waiting for Miguel to show up and make your appearance seem organic.

You were still in your work clothes, which felt a little odd, but you knew it would look even more odd if you weren’t in them in the middle of the day. You also couldn’t be too close to the party or it’d look stranger still.

You sighed to yourself as your back hit the nearest wall. Here, alone, beneath the cold fluorescents, you pondered this weird situationship you’d gotten into.

You loved Miguel dearly, you really did, both genuinely as a friend and as something more complicated. You just wished you could be more open about it. It was hard to lie, hard to constantly be on the lookout for ways to be inconspicuous. It was exhausting.

You didn’t even entirely know why you couldn’t be open about it. All you knew is you trusted him, or at least, you wanted to, so what he said went.

Your mind drifted to his lips on your neck, and you absently brushed where he’d kissed you. You thought about his words, about how he’d whined over not being able to mark you with a bite. Your cheeks glowed in the cold light.

You wished it too, you thought. You wished for nothing more.

‘Nena?’

You turned to find Miguel watching you from the corner of the hall. He was in full suit, even wearing his mask, which you found a little odd. You smiled as he approached.

‘Hey, big guy.’

Miguel glanced about the hall twice to ensure you were alone before placing a single, cautious kiss to your forehead.

‘You ready?’

You could hear the annoyance in his voice. He was already in a foul mood. With both hands you reached up and gently tapped his cheeks, urging him to remove his mask. He reluctantly obeyed.

‘There he is. Beautiful man.’ You cooed softly as you stroked his jaw, and you watched as he closed his eyes in response. You clung to that moment together, that sweet single moment alone, until you were forced apart by the sound of another spider’s footsteps.

Together you walked into the open lobby.

It was packed with spiders from ceiling to floor, with people standing or sitting at every angle possible. Those holographic decorations were extra bright here, filling the white room with a bright arrangement of rainbow lights. It was excessively cheery.

The moment you walked in you were hit with the low buzz of spiders chatting and calling over each other. Someone somewhere was singing, a gaggle of Peter’s were trying to get the radio to play music, but someone seemed to have already dropped eggnog on the thing and now all you could hear was the occasional static.

You also noticed very quickly that everyone else was wearing some horrible Christmas sweater. That is, everyone but Miguel.

‘Miguel! Hey! There you are!’

You jumped as Peter B. dropped from the ceiling in front of you, his arms flying to Miguel’s waist before the man could even respond. Miguel opted to just stand stock still in his usual, stoic posture, while Peter squeezed his ribs to dust.

‘Oh, I’m so glad! Hey, I told you it was festive sweater attire—’

‘I don’t- own one of those.’

Peter huffed at Miguel’s curtness. While Peter tried to put on his most disapproving, disappointed dad face, Miguel just curled his lip.

‘I brought you one! For this EXACT event!’

‘I lost it.’

‘You lo- how?! You live and work in the HQ!’

‘I lost it’ Miguel repeated. You could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth.

‘I swear you are unbelievable sometim—oh! Hey, you! It’s you!’

Peter finally noticed you standing awkwardly at Miguel’s back. You were easy to miss, as your body barely came up to his pecs and his shadow was currently hiding much of your body, but Peter’s senses were keen. He turned his accusatory finger from Miguel to you instead.

‘Hey! Oh, it’s good to see you, how are you doing?’

‘Hey, Peter. I’m- good, I’m good.’ You forced a smile to hide your anxiety over being here. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong but you felt so out of place in these big gatherings. You weren’t a spider, you barely knew most of these people, and of course you were harboring the guilt of your secret affair with their boss.

As if sensing the strain in your voice Miguel allowed his hand to brush your elbow. It was a small, barely discernible action, but it meant the world to you. It was all the comfort you needed.

‘I didn’t know you were invited though’ Peter mused aloud. ‘I thought it was just a spider thing.’

‘Oh, I was—’

‘I saw her walking by and she mentioned she was on break, I thought- she might enjoy this’ Miguel said, quickly dropping your alibi in the most monotone way possible. You just nodded along with his explanation.

‘Oh’ Peter noted, his finger slowly retracting. ‘So, you two do know each other?’

Miguel grunted, his brows knotting into that familiar look of mild annoyance. ‘Do we know- yes, of course we know each other. She cleans my office three times a week. I told you before, we’re friends.’

Peter nodded along slowly. He wasn’t saying anything, but of course his senses had peaked. He was curious in a way that was making Miguel squirm.

‘So you—’

The three of you turned in unison as a sharp cry filled the lobby. It was a baby’s cry, a sharp squeak of joy, one that all three of you instantly recognized.

‘May! May, no, you can’t be up there!’

The red-headed baby had found her way onto one of the beams and was eagerly crawling towards the fake holographic tinsel, trying to grasp it with her little baby hand.

‘NO! NO, honey, you can’t- you can’t touch that- I’m so sorry, I gotta go!’

Thankfully Peter abandoned your conversation to climb the wall in pursuit of his baby daughter. You sighed with relief, your hand brushing Miguel’s arm, but when you touched him you found he was unbelievably tense. You glanced up to find his eyes glued to the ceiling.

‘Mig?’ you whispered. He was grinding his jaw with his lips pursed, his eyes unmoving.

‘This is why I didn’t want to come’ he hissed. Before you could speak he’d pulled away to the craft table.

‘Ah- Mig, hey!’ You hurried after him, awkwardly sidestepping the other spiders to reach him. ‘Mig? Miguel? What’s up?’

You finally caught him as he tried to hide at the end of the craft table, shoving himself into the corner. You bit down any jokes you instinctively wanted to make about this enormous, gorgeous man trying to hide anywhere.

‘Mig, it’s okay. Talk to me.’

You sidled up beside him and glanced about the room, making sure no one else was coming over. You could physically hear Miguel grinding his teeth at this point.

‘I knew this is what it would be’ Miguel murmured. ‘I get invited out of pity. Everyone’s here with their friends, and their family, because that’s what its about, and they know—’

Miguel choked on the last word. You noticed his eyes were swimming ever so slightly.

In the corner Peter was bouncing May in his arms while trying to coax Mary to go beneath the holographic mistletoe. Jess was laughing as she held up a hologram, on which you could see the laughing face of her husband as he admired her stomach.

You suddenly noticed how many Peters, how many Marys, how many Gwens were spread out here. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other, and many more were talking about visiting their aunts or parents.

When you looked up at Miguel again, he looked strained.

‘I- I’m gonna take a break’ Miguel grumbled.

‘Oh, already? Hey that’s okay. Do you want me to come?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I just- I need a minute. Alone.’

Without another word he turned and fled, rushing immediately to the nearest bathroom stall. He locked it hard.

Suddenly, you were alone too. You immediately felt your heart speed up.

Oh god, did you know anyone else here? You sort of knew Peter B. but he was busy with his family, and you sort of knew Jess but not well enough to just chat. Everyone else here was a passing acquaintance. You began to wander aimlessly from spot to spot as if to imply you knew what you were doing.

You stared at the food but didn’t partake in anything but a half-filled cup of eggnog which you sipped on for support. You passed by the secret santa board listing everyone intending to participate, just so you looked like you were pondering it with purpose. You noticed Miguel’s picture had been pinned up there, his sullen face lost amide a sea of smiles. You spotted at the top a big sign declaring that Peter B. was this year’s organizer. Ah, of course, it was Peter orchestrating all of this. You quickly walked away.

Eventually you just found a corner to skulk in while you waited for Miguel to return.

It was quiet at least. Peaceful. Calm. You could watch everyone else stand around and sing and watch May admire all the Christmas lights.

You smiled too as you watched her. It was hard not to. It was inevitable, though, that your mind would drift back to Miguel again.

You knew about Miguel’s past at this point. You knew about Gabi, about his loss, about his isolation. You knew it was hard for him seeing every other spider suffer but still ultimately have a family to go home to.

Had he ever experienced a Christmas with Gabi? Did he even get enough time for that?

You knew, deep down, the real reason he didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t the casual socializing or the fact they weren’t technically a workplace. Maybe those things played a small part in his disdain, but really it was clear that he couldn’t bear to be reminded of what he didn’t have.

You glanced to where Miguel had gone to hide, praying for the door to open. It didn’t. You sadly sank back into yourself.

‘Hey, what uh- what an interesting spot you picked.’

You jumped as an unfamiliar voice called to you from the right. It was one of the nebulous Peter Parker’s, a slightly older one it seemed, who’d come to stand beside you on the edge of the lobby. You forced a smile.

‘Hi! Ah… what- Can I help you?’

This new Peter grinned in a way that made you extremely uncomfortable.

‘Well, I mean if you’re asking. This is the right spot for that after all.’

Now you were sweating. Your eyes darting as he started to chuckle. Why was he laughing at you? Who was this?

You realized his friends, a group of other Peter’s, were in the corner giving him a thumbs up. Immediately your stomach dropped, and with bulging eyes you slowly looked upward.

There it was. Mistletoe. Your idiot self had wandered right under it without thinking.

‘Oh! Oh, oh my god, I am- I’m so sorry, no, I didn’t—’

‘God you’re adorably shy, especially for someone waiting underneath it’ this new Peter chortled. You felt your heart hammering. Oh god, where was Miguel? Where was he? You tried to lean and look for him in the crowd, but the new Peter suddenly leaned in front of you.

‘So, you were standing here for no reason?’ he teased. You stammered on your words.

‘No, I’m- I didn’t know it was there, I swear, I didn’t mean to be here—’

He reached up to grab the holographic sprig, taunting you with it as he waved it back and forth.

‘Hey, come on, you gotta follow the rules’ he chuckled. He must have thought he was being playful, just indulging in some banter, but you were horrified. You tried to step away.

‘No, no I’m not- playing around I’m serious—’

‘HEY!’

Your whole body jolted as you were suddenly thrust away from the older Peter. A giant, muscular, red and blue clad arm had swung itself between the two of you and embedded itself into the wall.

Miguel stared down at the man before him, his eyes burning red. His face had contorted with rage, and his claws had turned the concrete wall into dust where he’d struck it.

‘W-Woah, woah, you—’ The man tried to speak but Miguel snapped at him before he could give any kind of excuse. ‘What do you think you’re doing? She said no!’ he barked.

‘I thought- I mean she was under the—’

‘She said. No.’ Miguel was hissing so hard that spittle flew from between his clenched fangs. The man took a step back.

‘Boss, hey, come on—’

‘No. I won’t, come on. There is nothing else to say. She said no. I do not allow people, in my organization, who don’t listen to NO. Especially when it’s her—’

‘Hey, man I was just joking—’

‘Is anyone laughing?!’

Miguel’s sneer had turned into a disdainful smile at this point, a deeply sarcastic grin which bore no joy. Peter had raised his hands into a defensive stance at this point. He knew he’d messed up.

‘I do everything for you ungrateful people’ he seethed. ‘Everything. I give up- everything. And you’re trying to take the ONE THING I HAVE—’

Miguel paused his onslaught abruptly when a hand hit his shoulder, gently drawing him back from his rage. He turned, following the hand to its owner’s face, only to find Peter B. staring back at him with mortified eyes.

‘Mig’ he whispered. Miguel slowly darted his eyes towards the rest of the room.

Everyone had frozen in place to stare at the little mess you’d made. You cowered against the wall with your hands clutched to your chest, while Miguel just stared with his mouth agape. He was panting, his chest heaving as his anger began to slowly dissipate.

‘Buddy?’ Peter B. whispered. At this point the other Peter had used the distraction to flee back to his friends.

‘You okay, buddy?’

Miguel’s face began to warp. It went from rage, to embarrassment, to guilt, right back to rage again. He cast you a quick glance that you couldn’t discern before shoving his way through the crowd.

‘Hey! Hey, Miguel!’

Peter B. gave chase, and after a moment of being frozen you also followed suit. You both managed to follow him to the lobby door before losing track, as he used his claws to drag his body up into the endless sea of beams going up through the HQ.

You panted and stumbled to a stop beside Peter. You were both alone, standing in the corridor just outside the main lobby. You could still hear the gossipy whispers drifting out.

‘Shit… Shit, oh god- Mig’ you panted. ‘I’m so- sorry, shit—’

‘Hey, hey, don’t apologize’ Peter stammered. He was also out of breath. ‘Argh, god- I knew this would be a bad idea. I knew he’d get wound up.’

You panted once, twice, recouping your breath, before rounding on Peter yourself. ‘Then why did you do it?! Why’d you make Miguel get involved if you know he hates it?’ you hissed.

Peter held up both hands in defense. ‘Hey! I just- oh, god, I’m so out of shape- look, I’m not oblivious! I’m not tryna be mean, or rude, I don't even celebrate this stuff, but—I just don’t want him to be alone again.’

You paused your intended onslaught when you saw the sincerity in Peter’s eyes.

‘Alone, again?’ you repeated back. Peter nodded.

‘Yes! He doesn’t—he doesn’t have any family. Not here, not even in another universe, he’s… It’s a hard time of year when you’re alone, even for regular people, but, he’s—’

‘Anything but regular’ you murmured. Peter gave another grim nod.

You sighed, hard.

‘Look, Peter, we’re worried about the same thing’ you insisted. ‘But just- forcing him to spend time around other people who have what he doesn’t have, how does that help?’

Peter held up his hands in surrender. ‘Yeah, I- I know. I know. I just thought- Sometimes, when he looks at May or holds her, I catch him smiling to himself. I catch him making those soft little dad noises at her and, I just thought, maybe he wanted more of it?’

The mental image Peter was painting made your stomach knot. You could see it so clearly, Miguel’s old worn face lifting into a smile as May cooed at him, as she reminded him of those long dormant instincts. It made your heart hurt.

‘But then other times he- he looks so defeated, and I… Well, my good intentions don’t really matter, do they? Either way I screwed up. I should have just, locked you two in a room or something, eh?’

You blanched at his sudden curtness. ‘You- what? What, what are you- aha, what are you implying, Peter? There’s no—’

‘Shh, shh.’

You stiffened as Peter put one finger to your lips. ‘Don’t wear yourself out, little lady, I know what you and my dear friend Miguel are up to.’

You could feel your face getting warm, and you were sure he could tell. Peter’s stupid puppy dog smile crept back onto his face as he watched you squirm internally.

‘What I meant was, I should have just done what he wanted, not what I wanted. And I’m fairly sure all he wants is to sit in a dark room on a couch watching some stupid old soap opera film while you sit next to him and, I don’t know, gaze at him adoringly.’

Slowly your body began to loosen up. Peter was right, there was no point lying. You reached up to remove his finger from your mouth.

‘I’d have liked that too’ you murmured.

In that moment it didn’t feel like there was anywhere else to go. You’d hit a wall, and the two of you were forced to just pace in the corridor in thought. That was, until something Peter had said stuck out to you in retrospect.

‘Hey, um—’

You held up a hand, awkwardly gesturing for Peter to come closer. He obliged, his adorable puppy face tilting as you mulled over what you were about to do.

‘This secret santa thing, could… could you do me a favor?’

Peter’s eyes lit up. You hadn’t stated your intentions but he already knew where this was going. Yes, you and Miguel were meant to be a secret. Yes, Jess had stated very clearly that it wasn’t a good idea to indulge it. But god, Peter couldn’t help himself. He was a romantic at heart.

‘What kind of favor?’ he whispered.

You leaned in closer and whispered back. ‘You’re in charge of handing them out, right? I want you to shift the names around. I want you to give Miguel to me. Nobody has to know, cos... yanno, it’s secret, but… could you do that for me?’

Peter beamed. ‘I can do that one hundred percent, ma’am, without a single issue.’

You beamed back. ‘Perfect! Thanks Peter, ah- sorry for snapping at you earlier.’

‘Hey, it’s all water under the bridge.’

As Peter flapped his hands dismissively you gazed up at the beams above. You sighed again.

You were supposed to spend Christmas with your family this year like always. It’d been a while since you’d seen them after all, and it was always something you looked forward to when you got the chance.

But, you felt like there was someone who maybe needed you a little more this year.

…

It was Christmas eve and almost all of the spiders at the HQ had gone home. The place was eerily empty without the usual crowds. With heavy snow falling outside the place felt liminal, like a building outside of space and time.

It was in this sea of nothing that Miguel appeared. He was walking alone through the lobby at a speedy pace, dressed in just slacks and a t-shirt. He was trying his best not to linger. He didn’t like to think about how alone he was, nor did he like to dwell on the echo of his footsteps. The only man left, the only footsteps in the whole HQ.

The echo felt cruel to him. It was like laughter, reflecting back to him his own isolation. He felt so small.

He found his way to the elevator and rode it up to the tippy top of the HQ, and all the way up he mourned his situation.

He missed you. You hadn’t had time to speak properly after the party incident, and he missed you dearly. He was left to think about what you might be doing, somewhere far from here, relishing the holiday with family. What was your family like, he wondered? Mum, dad, both, neither? Did you have siblings to bond with, or nieces or nephews to gift presents too?

You were always so kind. So soft. He was sure you’d planned their gifts well in advance. He smiled at the thought of you panicking over gifts, or getting excited over whatever they’d gotten for you. He daydreamed about your gleeful, shining face beneath the glinting lights.

What a sweet, domestic image. He wanted more than anything to just cling to it for a little while longer, but fate was cruel. The elevator came to a stop and jolted him back to reality, as its doors peeled aside to reveal the empty corridor to his apartment.

His smile faded. He looked exhausted. With heavy steps he trudged his way to his front door.

‘I’m home’ he muttered as he pushed the door aside. It was a cruel routine he did every time he got back to his apartment, calling out to a family that didn’t exist. As expected, nobody replied. With a soft grunt he kicked off his shoes and began to fumble for the light.

‘Welcome back.’

Miguel jumped in his skin, his claws bursting out as his suit automatically covered his body. In a defensive position he slammed the light back on.

‘WHO’S THERE?!’

His narrowed eyes darted about the now lit apartment before falling on a single figure in the center of the room, a figure sitting perfectly cross legged on his messy couch.

His eyes widened. It was you.

‘You… nena?’

Miguel lowered his mask to reveal his utterly stupefied expression. You couldn’t help but smile.

‘Hey, aha- sorry for the uh, theatrics, but… I mean that was kind of the point, right?’

Your awkward laugh filled the apartment as Miguel tilted his head.

‘Why- why are you here? How did you get IN?’ he asked. As he phased away the rest of his suit you swung your legs over the edge of the couch, hands clasped in your lap. You were trying your best to look like you knew what you were doing.

‘Ah- you don’t lock your door, so- I just walked in.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You never lock your door’ you repeated gently. ‘You always forget, or you stay at work so late you never come back to lock it. You told me, last time I was here, remember?’

‘I… did, didn’t I’ he grunted. After a brief silent stare off Miguel turned and began silently taking off his shoes, leaving you sitting in the stillness.

You smiled to hide your anxiety. You couldn’t tell from his expression yet how he felt about your little jape, and you hadn’t even fully revealed your plan yet.

‘Nena, I am happy to see you, obviously, but…’

‘Obviously?’ you teased. He bashfully held up a hand.

‘Hey, come on, don’t start. You hid in my apartment without telling me, of course I’m going to be surprised, I would have jumped regardless of who it was.’

‘I know, I know, I’m kidding.’

Miguel shook his head. He looked exasperated but still mildly amused. ‘I am happy to see you, nena, really, but… as I was saying, why ARE you here?’

‘Well duh. I’m your secret santa.’

Miguel blinked. Now he looked even more confused.

‘You… Nena, you weren’t—’

‘On the ballot? No! I wasn’t. But SOMEHOW, I got on there! Call it uh- divine intervention, maybe—’

‘I’d call it Peter meddling’ Miguel grunted.

‘Ah, same thing! Don’t think about it!’

Miguel paused before properly responding to your shenanigans, opting instead to drop his stuff and slump onto the empty couch spot at your side. Your whole body bounced as he sat down.

‘Alright. I got it. So- Peter probably bribed you into spending Christmas with me, huh? Or did he blackmail you? Wait- nena, did he blackmail you?! I swear I will—’

‘What? No!’ You waved your hands and scoffed, quickly patting him back down from his brewing rage. ‘God you’re bad at this. I had a go at Peter for making you do holiday stuff when you were clearly unhappy, he said he only did it ‘cos he was trying to make you feel less lonely. So, I asked him myself to put me as your secret santa, and I planned this whole charade. Because I- also, want you to be happy, just, not by way of enforced socialization. I know you hate it.’

Miguel stared at you with his hand halfway down his jaw. He looked utterly stupefied.

‘You… I, will never understand you’ he said softly, the words barely a breath. You just kept your smile as wide as you could.

‘So- you’re—’

‘Happy secret santa!’

You interrupted Miguel’s attempted speech by dumping a huge wrapped present box on his lap. Miguel froze, his eyes locked on the box like it was a venomous snake, a perfect contrast to you as you eagerly slapped your thighs with excitement.

‘Go on! Open it!’

‘This- what is it?’ Miguel hissed. You reached out and incessantly patted his bicep.

‘It’s your- present! So open it! NOW!’

‘Okay! Okay! Ay Dios—’

With a soft grunt Miguel hurried to unwrap the box, shyly lifting the top flaps aside. He peered down into it while you clapped your hands beside him.

‘It’s…’

Miguel reached in and pulled out a handful of items.

‘It’s- so that’s that chocolate you mentioned months ago that you loved as a kid. The chilli one. I had to get it imported, I was SO worried it wouldn’t arrive but it did! Yay!’

Miguel slowly turned the wrapped candy over in his hand. ‘Nena, you—’

‘And that’s some new boxers. I hope you don’t mind, but I remember you said it’s the one thing you always run out of because you don’t wear anything else under the suit usually so you needed more— I made sure they were in your colors though!’

Miguel glanced down at the pack of boxers you’d brought him. They were, indeed, custom printed in red and blue. He just kept mumbling to himself, unable to form a real response.

‘And- I got you that copy of your favorite film, because I know you have everything digitized but you’re a sucker for just having things, it means Lyla can’t see ‘em, and… Oh, what’s that- OH! Yes, and I got you a voucher, for the canteen, I paid for like, a MONTHS worth of empanadas in advance so you or I can use those there for, like, maybe a week, knowing us.’

‘Nena, this is… really, thoughtful’ he murmured. You beamed.

‘At-at-at, it’s not over yet. And, finally, well… I thought, I could stay over, maybe. Keep you company. Spend Christmas here.’

Miguel’s mouth was agape.

‘Not like- I don’t want to um, make this more serious than it needs to be, like, this can be just a… friends with benefits, Christmas? I don’t know, what I’m saying is I just want to, you know, be here. With you. As a… whatever we are. For Christmas.’

Miguel, still stunned, slowly shook his head.

‘But, nena, your family—’

‘Ah, they’ll be fine! They’ve had me for every Christmas since I was BORN! That is like, an unfathomable amount of me to deal with’ you teased. Miguel’s solemn expression slowly tilted, his lips sliding into a half-smile.

‘Ah, so you’re offsetting their burden to me this year, huh?’

‘Mhm! You’re stuck with me.’

Bit by bit, Miguel’s heart melted. That cold exterior turned soft under your earnest smile. He slowly pushed the box of gifts aside so he could face you properly.

‘I- couldn’t think of a better gift, than being stuck with you’ he said. You felt a rush of warmth through your whole body, and instinctively tried to bat it away.

‘Aha, no, come on. Even the chocolate?’

‘It is, much, much better than that’ he said. His voice had gone unnervingly quiet, unnervingly gentle. You felt your heart flutter.

‘Well, I’m… glad. I’m, glad you’re happy I’m here. Now- do you wanna help me cook, maybe? I’m not sure what you’ve got but, we can make something work, right?’

Miguel nodded slowly. His eyes were utterly fixated on your face, on your little joyful dimples and wide eyes.

‘Sure. Sure, mi nena. I’d love that.’

You smiled so wide it hurt. ‘Mm. Good! Good. I’ll uh- get started then.’

Miguel watched as you scrambled to your feet and rushed to his tiny kitchenette. For just a moment, he decided to hang back. He was trying to hide his instinctual fear from you. He was happy, yes, deliriously so, but that scared him down to his core. He wasn’t supposed to be happy.

Had he let this go too far? He still wasn’t sure if any of this could get you hurt, if this somehow upset his canon. He was supposed to be alone after all, and yet, here you were.

With dilated eyes he glanced at the enormous glass wall overlooking the city. It was still snowing outside, heavy and hard, and Nueva was coated in a soft, dreamy blanket of white which glittered in the rainbow city lights.

It was beautiful. Serene. He bent and whispered into his watch.

‘Lyla?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ah- are there, any anomalies?’

‘No sir, none.’

Miguel’s eyes softened a little. Huh, he thought, no anomalies at all?

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered again. Lyla flashed a small red X at him over the watch.

‘None! None at all! I already said that!’

Part of him wanted to ask her a third time but he stopped himself. No, Lyla was trained to know this stuff, she had to be right. That meant this, at the very least, wasn’t breaking his canon. For now.

He stole a glance at you in the kitchen as you rummaged through his fridge. Even that small, mundane activity, watching you forage around and tut to yourself, made his heart a little less heavy. In fact, it made it light. The sight of your face smiling, the way you bit your tongue to concentrate as you separated food on the counter, it felt like bird wings fluttering in his chest.

‘Ay por Dios- I’m too old to be doing this’ Miguel mumbled to himself, but despite his gripes he was just too intoxicated to stop. It felt too good to be this content, this flushed and flighty and nervous. If this was safe, well, perhaps he could just stay here. Perhaps he could just stay with you, just the two of you, in this sweet heavenly limbo.

‘Okay. Ah- thank you, Lyla. That’s all’ he mumbled. Miguel went to close the receiver, but he paused at the last second. He decided to whisper one more thing.

‘Ah- merry Christmas, Lyla.’

‘You- what?’

Miguel grunted, already embarrassed, but he repeated it again. ‘I- I said, you know—’

‘Yeah I heard you, I’m just surprised’ Lyla crowed. ‘What’s got you all soft and mushy? Finally feeling the spirit of the season?’

Miguel refused to make eye contact as Lyla appeared in holographic form, her eyes roaming his dumpy apartment. It didn’t take long for her to notice you in the kitchen.

‘You- ooohhh. Oh. I got it.’

Lyla shot him a smug grin as she tilted her glasses. ‘Maybe not the spirit of the season, but you’re sure feelin’ something, huh boss?’

‘Get- out of here’ he hissed.

‘Merry Christmas boss. You two be safe now.’

Before Miguel could snap anything back Lyla phased herself away. She even made a point of switching his watch off for him, a subtle indicator that she knew he ought to be alone with you right now.

Miguel took her advice and gently slipped his watch off. It would be fine on the counter. Now fully certain that the two of you were alone, he rose to his feet and joined you in the kitchen. He had only one thing left on his mind.

You were busy sorting out leftovers when you felt his shadow at your back. The weight of his pecs pushed in against your head as his hips brushed your rear, very lightly pressing you against the counter.

‘Oof- oh, hey! There you are, you okay?’

You tilted your head back, a goofy smile spread across your face, only to have it immediately wiped.

Miguel wasn’t offering his same slightly stilted smile. He had an expression that you were now very familiar with, but it wasn’t one you were expecting to see right now. Those half-lidded eyes, that open smile, the way his breath condensed slightly as it huffed between his bared fangs. You felt the red light of his gaze gawking at you, admiring just how small you looked against his chest.

He pushed a little closer and you oomphed again.

‘Ah- h-hey, Miguel, you—’

‘I didn’t get you a present’ he said slowly. You watched as each of his clawed hands came down on the counter, trapping you in. Your body trembled with excitement.

‘You- you didn’t’ you stammered back. He seemed to be enjoying your little quivers.

‘I feel bad’ he murmured. ‘Mi nena went to, such lengths for me. So I want to give you something too.’

You tensed up with anticipation. Your whole body was on fire, and you couldn’t wait to—

Right in the middle of your fantasizing, Miguel pulled away. You watched as he withdrew and hurried off to the edge of his bed.

‘Ah… Mi- ahem, uh- Miguel?’

He didn’t reply. He was busy pulling out a draw and rummaging through its contents. You watched in a daze.

After a minute or so Miguel finally hurried back to your side, his hand now held behind his back. You tried to put on a grateful smile.

‘Aha, hey, so uh- what, what did you—’

Halfway through speaking he interrupted you again, this time by forcing some unseen object into your palm. It felt cold, whatever it was. Hard and cold. He closed your fist around it with both his hands.

‘For you, mi nena. Okay, now… look.’

Miguel slowly withdrew his hands, allowing you to unfurl your fist.

It was a key. Or, more specifically, a keycard, used to swipe open doors in the HQ. You had one yourself for cleaning people’s private offices, but you’d never seen one like this. You couldn’t help but frown.

‘What- wait, wait is this your— is, this your apartment key?’

Miguel’s affectionate smile was answer enough. You couldn’t hide the flood of excitement and surprise that overcame you.

‘OH! Oh, I- are you sure? Like, really- you’re sure, Mig? I don’t wanna pressure you, like—’

‘I’m sure, nena. I’m very sure.’

‘Oh my god- but, again I just- are you ABSOLUTELY sure?’

Miguel rolled his eyes a little. ‘Yes. Nena, I am sure.’

‘But you’re SURE you’re—MMF!’

In a spontaneous move Miguel bent down and roughly drew you up into a kiss. He was ravenous enough that you dropped his key to the floor, and passionate enough that all your thoughts turned to mush.

You melted into his grip as he pushed you against the counter, uttering the weakest moan you could as he parted your lips and began exploring your mouth with his tongue. The little nips of his fangs, the way his tongue bullied yours until you were drooling down the side of your mouth, it made your legs weak. Luckily his claws were there to hold you up.

‘Mmm- mm!’

Without words he hoisted you into his arms, letting your legs struggle to wrap around his waist. He was too big for you to fit but he was strong enough to hold you regardless, and indeed he relished in the chance to sneak a squeeze at your rear as he did so. Your hands gripped his muscular neck for dear life.

‘Nena—' he hissed between kisses, ‘mi nena- mi nena.’

Your back hit the wall as he pushed you up. He was getting rougher. His teeth kept hitting yours as the make-out grew messy, and his claws were digging small holes into your clothes. You gingerly bit his lip and he returned the favor.

When he pulled back you were panting for air.

‘Mig—f-fuck, Miguel—’

‘No talking’ he barked, pressing a firm kiss to your neck. You arched it back so he could access it more easily, and with an approving grunt he ran his tongue from collarbone to jaw.

‘Unless you’re screaming for me, no words’ he hissed in your ear. ‘I want to show mi nena, why you’re the best gift I could get.’

‘F-Fuck—’

As you tried to catch your breath he pressed his lips to your neck once more, gently kissing from spot to spot as if searching for something.

‘I want- to do something for you, nena. Something you said you wanted.’

‘You—what do you mean—’

He gave you no time to even respond before sinking his heavy fangs into your neck. All you could do was squeak.

It always surprised you just how big he was, how powerful. You felt his teeth moving beneath the skin as his lips sucked, a strange miasma of warmth, stinging pain and pleasure that lulled you into submission.

‘A-Ah- Mig—’

Your mouth fell open into a brainless gasp as he clamped his jaw on your frail skin.

‘Mm- mmm-‘

He let out a muffled moan as he started to slowly seep venom into your blood. The pleasure seemed to be too much for him as well, as he’d started to impatiently dry hump your body into the wall. Now penetrated on his teeth and crushed by his torso, you could do nothing but moan.

After god knows how long he retracted his teeth, carefully licking the wounds he’d left. You whined. You were lightheaded but not paralyzed this time, as it seemed he’d controlled the flow of venom. The rest was drooling down his chin and staining his shirt. He grunted and wiped it on the back of his hand, all while easily maintaining your weight with just one palm.

‘Good girl’ he groaned. ‘You okay?’

You gave a dreamy nod. ‘Y-Yeah… fuck yeah, just- you said, we couldn’t do that. I-It’s too noticeable.’

His self-satisfied grin made you even dizzier. ‘That’s my present to myself’ he purred, carefully admiring his work. Your neck was bruised and red from the hickey, with four clean marks showing his distinctive marking. He kissed each mark. ‘It’ll heal by the time everyone gets back, but, for tonight—’

You tensed as he leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. ‘You’re mine. And I will mark you as such.’

You whimpered at those words, something which stroked his ego to unimaginable degrees. He couldn’t contain his throbbing need any longer.

‘Now- let me give you your second gift’ he purred.

With your body suspended in his hands he began to teasingly rip each piece of clothing aside. He started slow, just using his fangs to gingerly unclasp each button of your blouse, but his cock was throbbing painfully in his pants at this point and the teasing was too much.

He resorted to just ripping it all to shreds, all while whispering that he’d buy you a new outfit.

Once you were fully naked in his palms he allowed his organic webs to stick you to the wall, with legs spread and arms pinned at your sides. He manipulated it to look like a shibari rope, perfectly highlighting each little part of you he loved. He whistled.

‘Gorgeous, nena. Mi nena hermosa.’

You were panting now, flushed and just a little shy to be no more than a display on his wall. You felt his clawed hands sink into your thighs as he patted them, enjoying the way the fat and muscle squeezed between his fingers.

‘Mine’ he whispered.

‘Ah- Mig—’

He crept closer and gently pressed his lips to your spread slit. His arm was hooked around your right leg, holding you close as he breathed you in. The feel of hot air hitting your clit made you squirm.

‘Mine.’

He repeated that word, once, with such vigor it scared you, before finally allowing himself to lick at your cunt. Your breathy moan filled his apartment.

‘Mig, f-fuck—!’

Your whole body shuddered as he began to messily make out with your spread sex, his lips and tongue ravenously moving between starving licks and hard sucking. You watched his head gently arch and bob back and forth with each movement.

Your clit was swollen at this point, with a desperate need to be touched, and each warm, wet, rough flick of his tongue was sending the most gratifying jolts of pleasure through your body.

‘Please, please, more’ you whined.

Miguel had tried to offset his own need by palming at his hard cock over his slacks, but he was just too aroused at this point. With a grunt he pulled back and manically ripped his pants down.

‘Fuck- you’re delicious.’

He jerked at his boxers until his cock sprung forth. You could see the little strings of precum already coating his lower belly and shirt, and internally whined that you didn’t get to lick them off yourself.

You watched as he started to stroke himself, his cock straining in his fist as he returned his tongue to your clit. You knew he was trying to make you jealous.

‘Eyes on me, nena’ he murmured, deliberately speaking close enough that you could feel his full lips moving over your spread sex. You squirmed in the bindings.

‘F-Fuck- you can’t show me that and- tell me not to look.’

He chuckled a little at your insistence. He couldn’t help but indulge. He was so used to despising his amalgamated body that seeing the way you foamed at the mouth for him was both arousing and comforting. He wanted to see you whine and strain, begging for his cock. He wanted to see you eye his muscled body like a starving animal.

‘My poor nena’ he cooed. ‘You want to look that badly?’

You nodded furiously. ‘Please- please, please—’

‘Okay. As you wish.’

With a smug final kiss to your inner thighs Miguel drew back from your body, instead bracing himself before you as he continued to stroke his cock.

You got a perfect view of his body like this, just like you wanted, but as punishment you were left wet and shaking with no stimulation.

‘M-Miguel, come on’ you whined. He shook his head.

‘No, nena, you get what you asked for.’

God, he did look good though. It was all you had to distract yourself from the aching throb of your clit as it begged for release.

You started by honing in on his face. That chiseled jaw, those full lips and narrowed, almond eyes, burning red in the dim light, it was a look that haunted your most perverse dreams nearly every night.

You swallowed hard and allowed your eyes to roam down. His body was just as enticing, after all.

His huge, sloped shoulders rippled as he rolled them, perfectly framing his fat, rounded pecs beneath his shirt. Your eyes drifted to the mounds of his abs, the way his waist and hips dipped in before sloping out to form his heavily muscled thighs.

You wanted to touch him so bad. You wanted your face in those pecs, you wanted your hands stroking the firm, sharp V cut of his pelvis leading down to what you wanted the most. His cock, now straining in his hand, thick and almost alarmingly girthy, its tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You strained in your web a second time.

‘Miggy- please, please, I’ll do anything!’

‘Muy preciosa’ he groaned. His own eyes were roaming now, eagerly gawking at your spread and naked body. You spied his cock throbbing as he looked at you and flushed, your skin glowing beneath the sweat now beading on your temples.

‘F-Fuck… this is so cruel—’

‘It’s what you wanted.’

‘I need you, please—’

‘Be patient, nena.’

He bit his lower lip as he started to peak, his own eyes glued to your spread legs, spying the little drips of slick sliding down from your desperate hole.

It was getting hard for him to hold back. He liked teasing you, yes, but it was almost painful to look and not touch like this. He wanted to bury himself in your hair as he rutted inside you, he wanted to bite your neck as he thrust your body into a mewling mess.

He wanted it. He wanted to penetrate you.

For just a second, in the heat and the passion and the peaking desperation, his mind lapsed. He indulged in that one perverse fantasy he tried his best to hide. He thought about cumming in you, and he thought about it sticking. He thought about cumming in you and knowing it would get you pregnant.

A low shudder ran up from his toes to his head, and he was forced to slow his fist to avoid coating the floor in his seed.

‘Fuck… fuck, okay. Okay. Teasing over.’

With a snap of his teeth he stormed back over and practically buried his face in your cunt. You jolted at the sudden intrusion.

‘M-Miguel—’

Your pleading turned to mewling whines as his full, flat tongue began bullying your clit, eagerly rubbing and stroking that sensitive nub while his hands got busy. With one hand still fisting his cock he allowed the other to slide up and inside you, filling you with two of his fingers.

‘F-Fuck--!’

‘Be good, nena.’

You bit your lip hard as he started to move his calloused fingers in and out. His skin was rough as it stroked your cunt, and he made sure that you felt it. He wanted to feel you, wanted to feel every tensing muscle and throbbing nerve, every wet little inch of that cunt he craved so badly to possess. He wanted to imprint himself on your insides.

As he began to fuck you with his fingers his lips buried themselves back into your folds, sucking ravenously at your clit. The double pressure was too much for you to take.

‘Miggy—fuck, ‘s so good—’

You could see Miguel’s eyes glazing over. It was his favorite thing, to put your pussy on his lips and taste you, to feel your wetness on your tongue. The taste, the sensation, it all made him feel drunk, but it was also so vulnerable of you to let this monster put you inside his mouth.

His soft nena, his sweet nena, letting him eat you out. Letting him coat you in his bodily fluids.

‘Cum for me’ he grunted. His fingers began to speed up. ‘Cum- for- me’ he begged, aggressively licking you between each word.

You had no escape; you obeyed. You climaxed on his mouth almost violently, straining and spasming with each throb of pleasure.

‘Miguel- f-fuck--!’

Miguel groaned as he felt you gush over his fingers. His eyes were hazy, his fangs bared. It was too much.

In a blur he used his claws to crawl up the wall, positioning himself so that his pelvis fell between your legs. He pushed down and began furiously grinding his bare cock against your clit, ridding out your orgasm with you.

‘F-Fuck, careful- c-careful, its- sensitive- m-mm—’

Your pleading went unheard over his panic panting and grunting. You lay back and let him grind out his frustration, his need, and allowed yourself instead to lull in the pleasure of his overstimulation.

‘So… fucking, good… soft little nena, fuck- you’re delicious.’

With a soft whine Miguel dropped back down, idly cutting you free as he went. He caught your body bridal style.

‘Ah- well, I-I think your present beat mine’ you panted. You were still lightheaded from cumming and had a dumb little dreamy smile on your face, and all you could think to do was tease him.

Miguel didn’t laugh. Without a word he carried your body across the apartment.

‘Ah- Miggy?’

Miguel gently put your body on the ground, allowing you to steady yourself before moving away.

‘Put this on.’

You jumped as he began manically pulling one of his shirts over your head, one so large on you that it looked like a dress. The moment your arms were through the holes he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder again.

‘M-Mig? What- what are we doing?’

You oomphed as he lowered you back to the floor and spun you around. Your eyes widened; you were pressed right against the open window wall of his apartment. He pressed you into it, hard enough that your breasts and belly were squished against the cool glass. Even with the t-shirt on it was cold.

‘I’m showing off my soft little thing’ Miguel purred. You realized, then, that he was stripping the last of his clothes off behind you.

‘Mig—’

‘Not completely, of course’ he whispered in your ear. ‘Only I get to look at you naked. But… I will happily demonstrate that you’re mine.’

With another low grunt he lifted you back up. He kept one arm braced around your waist and the other on your inner right thigh, spreading your legs apart as he lifted you to the exact right height. The perfect height, where his hips could slot in against your rear and his cock could brush up against your slit.

You let out a soft pant. You were horrified about being seen like this, but, were you? Was it not causing your post-orgasm body to throb with absolute delight? Was it not causing our insides to tense with desire?

After all, you wanted to be his, didn’t you? You wanted that mark on your neck. You liked the idea, secretly, of everyone knowing what he’d done to you. You started to tremble with excitement.

His breath stirred your hair as he adjusted his stance. You could feel his bulbous member nudging at your pussy, begging it to take him.

‘Miggy- fuck, please, please do it.’ Your hole was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. Miguel chuckled.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want- I want you to fuck me.’

‘Who do you want to fuck you?’

‘F-Fuck- ah, M-Miguel, I want you to fuck me, please—’

The breath was knocked from your lungs as he forced his cock inside you. He had to push a few times to get deeper, gently but urgently coaxing your muscles to loosen up, but with a final sigh he pushed in and bottomed out. You winced, your fingers scraping on the glass.

‘Mm- good girl nena, that’s it. Just- stay still for me. You’ll adjust. Good girl. Good girl.’ He was already panting, his chest heaving like a drowning man taking that lifesaving breath.

You bit your lip until it bled. God, you could feel him sliding around inside you. His little explorative slips were creating the most toe-curling sounds; soft, wet squishing noises, mixed with the soft slap where he’d bottomed out and was hitting his pelvis against your rear.

‘You like that, nena?’

You manically nodded your head. ‘M-Mhm, mhm.’ 

Your legs were shaking. He was deep enough to hurt, deep enough that whenever you moved even an inch you could feel his cock pressing into those soft walls. He was stretching you hard; he’d filled all the space available and then forced you to make more. How did you keep forgetting how large he was?

‘Good, good.’ Miguel stretched his neck and settled himself into a more comfortable position. With both hands bracing your waist and hips, he angled himself to start thrusting. ‘Now, stay like that, and let’s give them a good show, eh?’

Before you could respond he’d started to fuck you, his hips bucking to get deeper. You moaned aloud.

He was rough from the start, eagerly rutting against your rear in a way that made the most erotic smacking sound. The glass was cold on your bare chest and belly as he pushed you up against it.

‘M-Miguel—’

‘Shh, you’re doing good nena. You- feel so, so good.’

His breath condensed against the glass with each hard pump he took. Each rhythmic thrust was perfectly timed with his hot, heavy panting.

‘Fuck… fuck, you’re- so big—’ Your attempt at praise was jolting into fragments, as each hard slip of his cock was enough to wind you completely. Miguel’s grip tightened as he pushed you harder against the glass.

‘You’re so small, nena’ he purred. ‘How do you take it so well?’

You mewled as he angled himself to kiss your cervix, a sensation that ached while still being unbearably pleasurable. Your body was like a limp doll in his hands, stretched and fitted to his massive girth.

‘You’re mine’ he groaned.

‘You’re mine. Mine- mine—’

He gave three hard thrusts to match each utterance of his claim over you, each once drawing another loud moan from you. The city lights blazed around your body as he held you up and rutted between your legs.

‘Mine—mine—’

Through the snow it was hard to tell if anyone could have seen you. Someone in one of the skyscrapers across the road could certainly get a view of your silhouette’s manically fucking against the window, and that was enough to make you clench.

You wanted to be his. You were his.

But then, right on the cusp of some utterly gratifying peak, Miguel pulled out of you. His cock sent a pool of slick dribbling down your thighs to the floor where it formed a small puddle, an embarrassing display of how much you’d been squirting.

Usually Miguel would have teased you for it, but he was manic right now.

‘Fuck it- I need to look at you.’

He pulled your body up bridal style and carried you back over to his unmade mattress, throwing you onto it with little delicacy or thought. He was too horny for that.

Now on your back he ripped his own shirt from your body and threw it aside. You didn’t even get a chance to speak. All you could do was moan as he split your legs apart and pushed in between them, easily slipping his girthy shaft back inside you with a guttural groan.

‘Fuck- fuck, you look so good.’

His eyes were fixed on you as he started to rut again, his hips bucking and smacking your pelvis until it was numb. Your hands flew up to his neck where you held on as hard as you could.

He wanted it all. He watched each part of you that bounced when he thrust into you. He watched your eyes roll and your coy little lip bites when your cunt squelched for him. He watched the way you winced and mewled when he kissed your cervix with his cock. His hands suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them down, forcing you to face him.

‘You like that, nena?’

‘Ye- f-fuck- yes, y-yes—’

You’d been fucked dumb at this point. You could barely get a word out. Miguel smirked.

‘Are you mine?’ he barked.

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘I-I’m yours, Miguel.’

His fangs flexed as he started to thrust harder. He pulled out all the way and then snapped his hips, penetrating your sopping pussy as deep as he could, until the overstimulation became too much for you and he resorted to just roughly humping with short, fast thrusts while halfway inside.

You were pathetic at this point. You’d drooled on his pillow and your slick was pooling on the unmade sheets. You’d cum a second time during his erratic thrusting, but you hadn’t even had the strength to tell him. All you could do was worship, meekly moaning his name with each thrust.

‘Miguel—Miguel—Miguel—’

Once again, on the verge of climax, Miguel indulged. He just couldn’t stop that intrusive fantasy.

He pictured himself somewhere else, anywhere but here, holding you down in his hands as he fucked to completion. You were his, all his, and he didn’t have to hide you or fear you. Perhaps you were his wife, or fiancé at the least. He could be your husband. He was yours, and you were all his, and now he was going to finish in you. He was going to breed your perfect little body. He was going to get you pregnant, because you wanted him, and you wanted to carry his babies.

He bent back to watch his cock as it penetrated. He was thrusting hard and thrusting fast, desperately pumping back and forth.

‘Mi nena’ he whined. ‘I’m going to cum in you now, okay?’

You felt every curve, every inch, every throb as he got closer to his own climax. You could tell he was close because he was getting erratic. His rhythmic pumps were becoming animalistic.

‘A-Ah- please, Miggy, fuck- please cum in me.’

Your hands scrabbled to hold onto anything as his groans got louder. Those words from you were too much for him to handle.

‘Gonna- cum in you- so hard—’

‘Miguel!’

With one extra loud groan he ejaculated, thrusting hard with each spurt to ensure it got as deep as possible. He wanted you to take it all, and you did. You were frozen in place, trapped, taking every inch of the larger man’s load. Those thick, white ropes filled every inch, all warm and wet and heavy.

Miguel whined as his thrusts slowed, until at last he rocked to a halt.

He’d done it again. He’d slipped back into the fantasy, imagining just briefly as his orgasm took over that he was breeding you. Now as he struggled to catch his breath, he felt that lingering guilt and shame.

Luckily, he had you here to wash away that guilt. He looked down and watched you pant beneath him, your lips parted and eyes utterly glazed over. Your muffled moans of satisfaction filled him with pride.

‘Good girl’ he whispered. He bent and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

‘N-No, no, it… mm…’

You tried to speak but quickly collapsed again into a mushy pile of pleasure and exhaustion, something Miguel found very privately amusing.

‘Alright, just- stay still, I’ll, get you a towel.’

Miguel slid out of you carefully. He watched his seed drip out as he pulled away, clinging to his shaft and pooling from your hole. He heard you give another muffled moan as he released you from the heavy weight of his cock.

God it made him dizzy. Even knowing that it couldn’t do what he wanted it to do, it still made him rabid. As he pulled out fully he couldn’t help himself; he used two fingers to sneakily push some of his cum back inside you. It felt wrong, yes, but it felt too good to not do. It sent shivers up his spine, and even post-orgasm his cock twitched as he watched himself stuffing you with it.

With that guilty indulgence out of the way he did then do what he’d promised, pulling on his boxers and rushing to find you a towel while you lay face down in his bed. When he returned after a few minutes of looking for a clean one, you were still in the same position.

‘Nena?’

You awkwardly waved your hand to show you were alive. Miguel chuckled again. He gently bent at the knee and helped clean the mess he’d made of your thighs, all while you moaned and shifted in the sheets. He quickly tossed the used towel onto the pile already filling his hamper before crawling back into bed with you.

‘Mi nena.’ He immediately shoved his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. You squirmed until you were pressed right against him.

‘Hey there, bestie.’

Miguel snorted a laugh. ‘Alright. Fine. I did say you could do it in private.’

‘Mhm.’

With a sigh Miguel rolled onto his back and puffed up the pillows at his back, allowing him to lie slightly propped up while you clung to his side. You nestled your cheek into his pec as your arm explored his belly.

You weren’t sure how long you dozed beside him. There was something especially comforting about lying side by side, completely naked and alone beneath a thin sheet, slowly warming yourselves off of each other’s body heat.

You were so cozy, for lack of a better word. You were safe, warm, wanted. And so was he.

As the sky turned dark and the snow gained a ghostly glow against the windowpane, Miguel gently shook you awake.

‘Hey, nena?’

You rolled your eyes up to his face.

‘Yeah?’

‘You awake?’

‘Well I am now.’

Miguel’s half-smile betrayed just how uncommon it was for him to smile anymore, but as he watched your grumpy little face nestle into his chest it became a little easier to do.

‘I… ah, okay. How do I say this…’

He smooshed his cheek as he gazed into the distance, his foot nervously tapping on the mattress edge. You tilted your head.

‘You okay?’

He shot you a glance as his hand came down to his jaw. There was a strange intensity to his eyes that took you off guard.

‘Mig?’

Slowly, bit by bit, that smile returned. It was strained, yes, but soft as well.

‘I like you’ he said. You blinked.

‘You… what?’

‘I like you’ Miguel repeated. He sounded a little more confident this time. ‘I… I like you a lot.’

You blinked again, unsure of how to respond. You defaulted to that same awkward, lopsided smile he’d given you earlier. ‘Aha, oh boy. Uh- I mean I like you too, but that’s a bit—’

‘No, no.’

Your eyes widened as he put a claw to your lips, smooshing them shut. As he smiled at you again he tilted his head, a move so adorable it made you squeak. It was so oddly vulnerable to see such a huge, chiseled man beaming with his head tilted like a curious dog.

‘No. I know what you’re thinking. That’s what someone says when they don’t want to admit they love someone. It’s a cop out, right?’

You shyly nodded and shrugged, trying to downplay how you’d felt, but he didn’t seem offput. His smile widened.

‘I don’t mean it like that, and I can prove it, but- first, just hear me out, okay?’

You nodded again, and watched as Miguel withdrew his claws from your mouth. He slid them down your lips to your chin, carefully resting that hooked, curved point on the soft fat beneath, and with the slightest of ease he tilted you to meet his gaze.

‘I like you’ he said softly. ‘I like you, just- as a person. And I don’t know the last time I’ve admitted that. I’ve met… thousands, millions of people, across a thousand universes, and in maybe 0.001% of cases I realize, I like this person.’

You felt your cheeks glowing under the intensity of his stare.

‘But I like you, and worse, I like you so much more than any of them. You’re so, kind, and carefree, and interesting and funny and... I used to think you were naïve, but you’re not. You’re worried, all the time, like me, but you try so hard to still be kind. I don’t get how you do it. Maybe I never will, but- I admire it. I adore it. And, I adore you. You’re just, so… so, ah- what’s the word…’

‘Soft?’ you mumbled. He actually let out a soft chuckle at that, and this one wasn’t sarcastic.

‘Yeah. You’re soft. My… soft, thing.’

You felt the heat growing in your face, and with it the glow increased. You pouted to try and offset how obvious it was that you were fawning over him.

‘I- I like you too, beautiful man’ you replied.

Miguel’s smile widened until you could see his fangs. For just a brief moment, you watched those soft smile lines erase all the hard, angry wrinkles in his face, revealing a strange vulnerability beneath.

‘I love you, nena’ he whispered.

You were mortified. Not from the words, but from your reaction. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as your whole body tensed, your heart thundering in your chest, and as you tried to bite it all down at once you nearly made yourself sick. It must have shown because Miguel’s smile immediately dropped.

‘Ah, nena, are you—’

‘YEAH I’M GOOD! I’M—FUCK—I LOVE YOU TOO!’ you stammered in a manic cry.

Miguel looked a little offput at first, clearly confused, but it quickly dawned in him that you were panicking. He snorted back a laugh as you buried your face in your hands.

‘Oh my god I’m so sorry—’

‘No, nena, you didn’t do anything wrong’ Miguel soothed. He put a hand on your back and began to rub, all while you continued to make muffled apologies into your palms. ‘You’re all good.’

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—’

‘Why are you sorry, nena?’ he asked. You felt him put a sympathetic cheek against the crown of your head. ‘Do you have any idea how happy that made me?’

When you continued to whine Miguel opted to just grab you, pulling your whole body into a tight embrace. He forced your head between his pecs and your arms to his chest, while his muscular legs came around to encapsulate your own.

As the snow swirled outside he cradled you against him, warm and safe, totally cut off from the rest of the world. You felt your eyelids drooping.

‘I love you’ you whispered. Miguel fought the urge to cry.

‘I love you too.’

Somewhere a clock chimed, beeping to indicate that midnight had passed.

‘Merry Christmas, Mig’ you whispered into his chest. He squeezed you a little tighter.

‘Merry Christmas, nena.’

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #long read #a fortunate mistake #fem reader #x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #smut with plot #smut and fluff #christmas fluff fic

[neverinadream]

The Next Adventure

Summary: You and Christian are more than ready to take the next steps in creating your family; Christian just needs to learn how to keep a secret for more than ten minutes.

Paring: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: pre-established relationship, dad!christian, talks of pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms, mentions of periods, a clunky ending because i couldn't get to flow properly, not edited....that's it really....

Notes: i don't know if i like this, it wasn't what i had originally planned for my next dad!puli piece but i'm not really liking that other one either. anyway, did we like? feedback is greatly appreciated.

Muffled morning conversations and the soft sound of the radio carried past your bedroom door and mixed with the soft whimpers spilling past your lips as Christian latched his lips to your neck. "Christian," you say his name like a prayer, fisting your hand into his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls, as you reach back to touch him, "I…Birdy-"

"Is downstairs with my parents," he whispers into your ear, cutting you off before moving you onto your back. His parents were visiting for the week, spoiling their granddaughter with every chance they got, with Kelley nearly refusing to let you cook most nights, insisting that you should take the evening to relax and spend time with Christian and Birdy. You had even managed to sneak in a much-needed date night, getting tipsy on red wine and giggling like it was your first date all over again. "She's probably sweet talking my mom into letting her have ice cream for breakfast." His hand rests against your jaw, cradling your face and holding you still as he leans in, kissing you softly and humming as you reciprocate his kiss. "Let's just enjoy ourselves for a few more minutes."

"A few minutes? Is that all it takes now?" You innocently tease him, giggling when he rolls his eyes at you. For a second, your attention was divided between listening to whatever witty comeback he came up with and your phone, which had just pinged and vibrated against the bedside table. Wiggling free from his wandering hands, you reach across for your phone, quietly mumbling, "oh," to yourself as you take note of the late notification from your period tracker.

The weight shifts, and the bed creaks as Christian sits up, trying to take a peek over your shoulder. "All good?" He asks, intrigued to know what had suddenly captured your attention.

"Yep."

You and Christian weren't trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly taking precautions to stop it from happening, either. Sometimes he reached over for a condom, and sometimes, he didn't. If it happened, it happened. Both of you wanted more kids, maybe more so now that Birdy was two, so to be told by some app that you were potentially two weeks late didn't scare you.

Truth be told, you often forgot that the app was ever on your phone, clearing away notifications without reading them, sometimes never noticing them at all. It was lazy of you not to keep track of your period, but between being a full-time mother, undertaking research, and giving the occasional lecture, you just waited for it to surprise you each month.

"I'm late," you tell Christian, tossing your phone elsewhere onto your bed, letting it get lost amongst the duvet cover.

"Late?" The intention behind your words had gone straight over his head. "For what?" He frowns, scratching lightly at the slight regrowth of his beard. "You don't work on Thursdays."

"You're adorable," you shake your head, deciding his misunderstanding was down to him recently waking up, "no, Christian, I'm late, as in late-late, as in Mother Nature has yet to check in for her monthly visit to the red hotel." You hoped the added emphasis might spark a revelation or two. The creases in his forehead disappear, and his face softens as his lips part, but no sound escapes. "Yeah," you hum, nodding your head, confirming the silent question hidden in his tired eyes.

The corners of his mouth gradually turn upwards into a soft smile, showing just a smidgen of the sudden happiness that had overwhelmed his body. "You might - shit, you had wine the other night," he blurts out, leaning against the headboard.

"And I went for drinks with Sophia and Andrea last week too," you reply, dispelling his worries, "besides, it might just be fashionably late this month. It wouldn't be the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last." You shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands unconsciously into the air. There was no need to get ahead of yourselves. "I might not even be pregnant."

His smile widens. "But you might be."

"Maybe."

Making a come hither motion with both of his hands, you giggle and move across the bed, straddling him as he pulls you onto his lap. Cradling your face, he guides you closer as he leans in, meeting you halfway. The kiss was short and sweet but long enough to convey the happiness and gratitude he was feeling. His joy was contagious and had you grinning like a love-sick idiot.

"Think you're ready for another baby?" You ask, guiding your hand over his, stroking your thumb lovingly over the back.

"Are you?" His answer was yes. One hundred per cent yes. He'd been ready for baby number two, three, and maybe even baby number four long before Birdy was even born. But your comfort and confidence to bring another baby into this little family of yours set a precedent over his longing for a bigger family. "Think you're ready for round two of morning sickness, swollen feet, ridiculous cravings, trying to find a sleeping position that is actually comfortable enough for you to sleep in, terrible gas-"

"Uh, I wasn't the one with the terrible gas," you interjected, feigning your annoyance, giving him a light poke to the chest, "that was all Birdy." You lightly run your fingers through his hair, fixing his curls so they aren't wild and untidy like your daughter's. "And, if I am pregnant, I'm ready for it all," you finally answer, "ready for all the times I'll feel like a whale and all the times I'll blame you for making me feel that way."

"I haven't missed that," he chuckles, his laughter soft on your ears as he presses a kiss against your neck and then against your shoulder. His hands drifted lower, one holding your hip as the other settled against your belly. He was letting himself get carried away with the thought of you potentially being pregnant again, the thought of either your second daughter or possibly your first son together, being somewhere under the palm of his hand. "Do you want me to go to the store for you?" He asks, guessing you had no tests stashed in the bathroom cabinet.

"And let you come back with half of the shop again?"

"How was I meant to know there were different types of tests?"

"Some of them weren't even pregnancy tests."

He lets out another groan, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he rubs his hands against his face like he was trying to rub the memory away. It was a favourite memory of yours, seeing his panicked face as he bought back a shopping bag full of several different brands of pregnancy tests, tipping them all onto your bed, and telling you he didn't know which one to buy so he just bought them all. Even the ovulation tests.

"It's okay, I'll go," you mumble, kissing his cheek as you leave the bed.

He follows shortly afterwards, retrieving a pair of shorts and pulling them over his legs. Doubling back to the messy bed, he lazily straightens the pillows and does his best to lay the covers as neatly as possible. No mother would be happy with the result, but he grunts and shrugs approvingly. "Are you sure you don't want me to go?" He asks, checking his phone, swiping away unwanted notifications, making a mental note of the ones he needed to return to before tucking it into his pocket.

You look up to see him reflected in the bathroom mirror, his head tilting off to the side as he leans against the frame. "I'll be fine going myself," you smile, rinsing the head of your toothbrush under the tap. He nods, drumming his fingers against his thigh, lingering at the door for a few more seconds, just wanting to watch you as you finished your morning routine. It mesmerised him how you made applying face cream look like a form of art, delicate hands working to rub the cream into your skin like brush strokes on a canvas. "Give Birdy a kiss for me?" You ask him, your hand on his arm bringing him back to reality.

"Of course," he answers, humming as he bends down to kiss your temple.

Getting changed and jogging down the stairs, you followed the sound of music and the smell of bacon, finding his dad standing in front of the countertop stove, flipping strips of bacon, cursing under his breath as fat spits at him. "Morning," Mark greets you first, wiping his hand on the dishcloth hanging over his shoulder, "he's not still asleep, is he?"

"Nope," you shake your head, instinctively opening the fridge to reach for the orange juice, frowning when you find it missing from its usual spot. Leaning away, you spot it on the table outside, where Kelley is sat with Birdy on her knee, making her smile with whatever it was she was saying to the two-year-old. "He'll be down in a second," you tell him, grabbing your keys from where you had left them on the counter.

"Everything okay?" Mark raises the question, looking at the keys in your hand and then back at you. Nodding, you swallow back the temptation to blurt out the news of your possible pregnancy. It was hard for you to keep a secret from your father-in-law. "You sure?" He chuckles, sensing a significant change in your demeanour. He could've sworn you had a glow that wasn't there before, but it could've just been the bright lights in the kitchen.

"We're...just out...of toilet roll."

Mark shakes his head, returning to the bacon frying before him. "You're a terrible liar, little lady." He removes the last of the bacon from the pan, stacking it together, remembering to leave the less cremated pieces for you on one side of the plate. "Come on," he pushes, taking the pan off the stove, "spill the secret."

"I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't." You lean across the counter, trying to pinch a piece of bacon and successfully doing so before Mark can pull the plate away, which you were sure he would've done if he had been faster. You take a bite, sighing happily as the greasy taste floods your mouth. "See you in fifteen, old man."

---

01:45

01:44

01:43

You watched the seconds tick by on your phone, the edge of the bathtub becoming increasingly uncomfortable as you sat and waited for two minutes to pass. Two minutes. Two single minutes. That's all you had to wait. In one hundred and twenty seconds, you were to receive either good or bad news from one of the three tests laid on the bathroom counter, and yet it felt like you had been waiting for an eternity.

00:34

00:33

00:32

"Oh my god," you groan, looking up at the ceiling, "just hurry up and tell me I'm pregnant, already!"

00:06

00:05

00:04

"Three..." Your heart was hammering in your chest like it was trying to break free, making you feel lightheaded when you finally rose to your feet. "Two..." Taking a deep breath, you reach for the middle test, whispering, "One," as you turned it over.

Positive.

You flip the other two over to be greeted with the same result. Every single one of the tests were positive.

You were pregnant again.

"What's up, Bug?" You place your hand on your belly, smiling as you look down at yourself. You were possibly six or seven weeks along, meaning they were roughly the same size as a baked bean. Tiny. So small you could rest them on the tip of your finger. "Ready for an adventure?" You ask, rubbing your thumb soothingly against yourself. Tears of overwhelming joy prick your eyes, dampening your cheeks as a few roll away. You quickly wipe them away, a soft chuckle spilling from your lips as you do so. "It's going to be a big one, so you take all the time you need, Bug," you sniffle, "we'll be waiting for you. All of us. Me, your daddy and the best big sister you'll ever know."

The thought of Birdy finally getting the opportunity to be a big sister was a dream coming true for you. "You're going to love Birdy," you resume talking to your unborn child, "and she will love you more than anything. Well, maybe not more than she loves your daddy, but she'll be your number-one protector."

Now all you had to do was go downstairs and tell Christian.

He jumps a little as you appear behind his chair, his hand curling lightly around your wrist as your arms wrap around him. "You okay?" He turns his head to look back at you, taking his eyes off Birdy, who was playing happily in the sandbox. It was a recent addition to your back garden, one that Christian had suggested himself, and your daughter was obsessed with it. You nod, turning to brush your lips against his cheek. "You sure?"

"Positive."

His eyebrows stand to attention. "Positive?"

"Get ready," you whisper into his ear, giggling as you feel his grip tighten, "because the caterpillar is in the cocoon, baby."

He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your fingers. His touch was so light that you could barely feel his lips against you. "I knew it," he chuckles, turning your hand over, kissing the inside of your wrist, "I knew it from the second you told me."

"Knew what?"

"Don't bother," Mark shakes his head at Kelley, making you laugh as he turns away, pretending to give you both, but specifically you, the cold shoulder, "they're probably discussing their secret." He sighs dramatically, glancing over his shoulder as he reaches for the newspaper. "And, apparently, we're not good enough to know about it."

"Love the dramatics," you reach out, giving him a soft tap on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Kelley was looking at Christian was pinched eyebrows and a frown. "You're keeping a secret from your own mother?" She asks, a little disgusted and oblivious to Mark's dramatics.

"No," Christian quickly answers, looking up at you to save him, "we don't have a secret, do we?" He rubs his hand nervously against his thigh. If there were was one thing he couldn't do, it would be to keep a secret from his parents, especially his mum. After all, he was a mama's boy. "Who said anything about a secret?"

"You're dad just said something about you two keeping a secret-"

"He's clearly lying," you gesture to your father-in-law as you mistakenly interrupt her.

"Are you calling me a liar, little lady?" Mark's head snaps to your attention, the newspaper now resting across his lap.

"Well, I ain't calling you a truther, old man," you fire back, the corners of your mouth twitching until you finally let them curl into a grin.

"Look, Mommy!" Right on cue, Birdy shouts out, throwing a heap of sand into the air as she lifts her arms to get your attention, distracting you all from your original topic of conversation. She has a red plastic spade in her hand, one that matches a red plastic bucket, and waves it excitedly in the air. "Look, Mommy! Tending!" She drives the spade into the sand, the red plastic flicking sand up hazardously into the air. She wipes her tongue with her hand as a few stray grains of sand land in her mouth. "Ew!" She cries, driving the spade back into the sand. "Not nice, Mommy! Don't eat!"

"I won't eat it, sweetie," you giggle, leaving Christian to join her in the box.

"Birdy, why don't you tell Mommy who you were pretending to be?" Kelley encourages, refilling her glass with more orange juice.

"Mommy," Birdy mumbles, her tongue poking out of her mouth. Her concentration face mirrored Christian's. You had noticed his mannerisms had quickly become hers over the last couple of years, leaving you to joke one or two times about how you were raising a clone of your husband. Only this one enjoyed wearing a frilly pink tutu with her cleats. "Look, I show you." She grabs one of her toys and drops it into the hole. You watch her cover it with sand, patting it down smooth the way her Pops had shown her, before digging through the sand with her hands to find it. "See," she holds the toy up, "tending like you."

"You were pretending to be me?" Birdy nods her head, collecting the sand together into a small pile. You cast your eyes over to the patio, smiling at Christian, who took a second to check his phone. "You hear that, baby?" He rolls his eyes, dropping his phone into his lap. "She was pretending to be her mummy."

He shrugged his shoulders, pretending like he didn't care about his little girl idealising you for a change. "That's fine," he says, readjusting his shorts, pulling the ends further down his thighs, "baby number two is going to be just like me." You look at him with wide eyes, a little stunned to react. You couldn't believe he had let your secret slip so easily past his lips after only knowing it all of about ten minutes. Maybe less. "Oh, shoot!" He mumbles, hiding his face.

Mark folds up the newspaper and drops it onto the patio table. "Told you they had a secret."

---

TAGLIST:

@shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @1-800-benji-chilwell @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @dinonuggiesforliferz @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chelseagirl98 @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @mortirolo @masonsrem

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic x reader

[maxinemaxmayfield]

sink your teeth before i disappear explicit | 4k | steddie | 18+ only

steddie, pre-relationship, established ronance, panic attacks, flashbacks, virgin!eddie, sharing a bed, cuddling & snuggling, interrupted masturbation, mutual masturbation, hand jobs, biting, marking

“I’ve never really slept with anyone before,” Eddie admits quietly, not sure if Steve is even still awake. Steve turns around awkwardly, trying to keep Eddie’s arm wrapped around his waist as he rolls over to face him. “Like… sex, or just actually sleeping next to someone?” OR Sharing a room leads to sharing a bed leads to sharing... more

[read on ao3] read on tumblr below

WEDNESDAY

“So they would rather you sleep in a bed with Nancy? ” Steve asks in disbelief as he stacks the returns. 

Robin rolls her eyes at him. “Duh. They don’t know I’m of the, uh, lavender persuasion,” she reminds him, lowering her voice with a quick scan of the store.

It’s fairly quiet, especially for a rainy Wednesday during summer break. Just a couple of teens milling about through the stacks, trying to decide on a movie. 

“And I’m pretty sure they still think I’m secretly dating you… though they have finally learned to stop asking.”

Robin’s parents had managed to secure a modest cabin by the lake for the long weekend. Steve could never quite get it straight – Robin’s mom’s brother’s wife… or was it her cousin’s husband? Nevertheless, someone who was somehow related to Robin had a cabin they weren’t using, and rather than leave it sitting empty, they had invited her parents to use it. Robin had agreed to go if she could bring a friend or two… which quickly turned into three, because she just couldn’t take Nancy and Steve and leave Eddie all alone for the weekend. And they were all thick as thieves after what happened during spring break. 

“Anyway, I thought you’d be happy to be sharing with Eddie,” Robin says, tossing Steve a meaningful look. God, he regrets telling her about his ill-advised crush.

Come Thursday evening, they pack into two cars and drive up to Lake Michigan, looking forward to spending their days swimming and their nights around the fire. 

– – –

THURSDAY

The cabin isn’t anything fancy – a simple wooden structure tucked between the trees – but it’s right on the lake, has its own small dock hosting a tiny row boat that looks like three passengers would probably capsize it. 

Robin shows them around the cabin, pointing out her and Nancy’s room, her parents’ room, and finally, tucked back in the corner behind the kitchen, Steve and Eddie’s room. 

Their room is the only one with separate twin beds. Steve isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

Everyone leaves to get settled in their own rooms, and Steve stands there with his old sports bag in hand, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“So, uh, which bed do you want?” he asks. 

Eddie throws himself down on top of the bed furthest from the door, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “This one – you can protect me from any evil entities of the night.”

“Unless they come in through the window,” Steve points out, setting his things down on the bed nearest the door. 

“Well, shit,” Eddie groans, eyes darting between the window and Steve. “Don’t fucking say that!” 

Steve laughs and throws himself onto his own bed, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“So, Harrington, do you snore? Tell me now, so I can prepare myself," Eddie says.

“Nah, but I do sleep in the nude.” 

Eddie’s smile falters and Steve can’t help but smirk. He doesn’t offer up any more information, letting Eddie dwell on whether or not he was joking. 

“I, uh, I sleepwalk, sometimes,” Eddie tells him, and then falls silent, dropping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling like he might find a script there. 

“Should make for an interesting night,” Steve says, trying not to laugh when Eddie’s eyes flick over to him before going back to the ceiling. “C’mon, let’s go see if they need help with dinner,” Steve says, pushing himself off the mattress and holding out a hand to help Eddie up. 

It’s still raining after dinner, so they sit around the little fireplace, playing board games and listening to music until it’s time to turn in for the night. 

Steve stands next to his bed for a moment, looking down at the pajamas he’d packed. He glances up, but Eddie’s busying himself with removing his rings one by one and setting them down on the nightstand. 

Steve strips out of his shorts and t-shirt, hesitating at the edge of his boxers, wondering if it’s worth it for the bit. Eddie’s back is to him. He makes his decision, leaving them on and climbing into bed, arranging the covers to hide his boxers but show as much skin as possible elsewhere. 

Just to mess with him. 

When Eddie turns back, he lets out something between a yelp and a squeak.

Steve pulls back the blanket with a flourish, watching Eddie’s eyes go wide and then narrow when he realizes what’s underneath. 

“You dick.”

“I mean, I usually would sleep naked, but I thought I’d be modest for the sake of my temporary roommate,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie climbs into his own bed, burrowing under the blankets. “Well, don’t change your habits on my account.” 

Steve chuckles and turns off his bedside lamp. “I’ll keep that in mind. ‘Night, Eds.” 

“Night.”

– – –

FRIDAY

Luckily, the rain has cleared up by Friday morning, the sun peaking out from behind the clouds and warming their skin. 

After breakfast, they don their swimsuits and head out to the edge of the lake. Nancy and Robin drag out a deck chair and curl up side-by-side, while Steve walks out onto the dock, turning around just before he reaches the end. 

“You coming for a swim?” he calls to Eddie, arms spread wide and displaying the expanse of his chest. 

Eddie plops himself down on a towel next to Nancy and Robin. “Are you kidding? The water’s freezing.”  

“Whatever, you big chicken!” And with that, he turns around and dives, cutting through the surface of the calm water. 

Eddie sits back and watches the gleam of Steve’s back as he slices through the water with ease, years of swimming making him more graceful in water than on land. It’s mesmerizing. 

“You might wanna pick your jaw up off the ground,” Robin quips, looking at him over the frame of her sunglasses. “Once you’re done ogling, I mean.”

Eddie huffs, shaking his head. “What? No! I’m not – Steve’s just–”

Nancy leans around Robin to fix him with a dubious look. “Oh please, don’t even deny it.”

“This is bullying. You’re bullying me,” Eddie accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. “Two against one isn’t a fair fight.” 

He doesn’t hear what Nancy says next, because there’s a disturbance out in the water. Steve has stopped swimming smoothly and seems to be thrashing, struggling against something they can’t see, trying to get back to shore.

Eddie’s throat closes up with panic. 

He jumps to his feet, shouts out and points, and Robin and Nancy are on his heels as they run out to the end of the dock. 

Just like that fateful night on Lover’s Lake, Nancy doesn’t hesitate. She jumps in and swims towards Steve, methodically, uniform strokes spurring her forward. She reaches him quickly and pulls him the rest of the way to the shore.

He’s sputtering and shaking, on all fours as he reaches the grassy edge of the lake, and Robin’s right there beside him, wrapping him in a towel, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, speaking to him in soft, calm, hushed tones. 

Eddie stands to the side, heart racing, chest tight. He feels useless, a spare part, unsure whether to come closer or give them space. All he can do is watch helplessly, a cruel parallel of when Steve was pulled through Watergate. Flight or freeze, never fight. 

Coward. 

Robin is placing Steve’s hands flat on the earth, helping him ground himself, still babbling away about where he is and what is going on around him. Eddie is in awe of how she always knows what Steve needs in these moments. 

“The vines… grabbed me,” Steve mumbles, breathing fast and shallow. Robin drapes herself against his back, contrasting with deep and slow breaths, pressing a hand to his chest. 

“Steve, we’re at Lake Michigan. No gate here, we’re not even in Hawkins,” Robin reminds him again, patience of a saint. “We’re safe, we’re safe, I promise you, we’re safe. It was just a plant.” 

“Nancy –”

“– pulled you out of the water, she’s right here,” Robin says, pointing her out. 

“And Eddie –”

“– is also right here, he’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.” Robin turns to Nancy and Eddie. “Can you help me get him up? I’ll take him inside, give him something warm and something sugary, it should help with the shakiness. And then he’ll probably need to sleep for a while when he comes down from this.”

Eddie swoops in to support one side of Steve and the three of them hoist him to his feet, leaving the lake behind them. 

Steve’s voice drifts through the darkness later that night. “Hey, Eds, you awake?” 

“Yeah.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

There’s silence for a while, not awkward, but comfortable. Until Steve breaks it. 

“Can I… would it be alright if I laid in your bed for a bit?” 

Eddie nods before he realizes Steve can’t see him. “Yeah, of course.”

There’s a rustle, footsteps, and then the mattress next to him dips as Steve slides under the blankets. Heat radiates off his chest.

It’s a small bed, so they don’t have much choice for positions. Eddie ends up curled around Steve’s back, an arm thrown around his waist to stop himself from rolling off the edge. 

“This is nice,” Steve whispers, wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pulling him tighter around him. Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before speaking again. “Is it weird if I say I was kind of hoping we’d have to share a bed this weekend? I just… I hate sleeping alone.” 

Eddie chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Don’t you usually sleep alone?”

“Yeah.” 

Steve doesn’t expand on his answer, doesn’t offer anything more. They lie there pressed together, letting their breath synchronize. 

“I’ve never really slept with anyone before,” Eddie admits quietly, not sure if Steve is even still awake. 

Steve turns around awkwardly, trying to keep Eddie’s arm wrapped around his waist as he rolls over to face him. “Like… sex, or just actually sleeping next to someone?” 

Both, but he feels a bit stupid admitting the first one to Steve Harrington, renowned lady’s man. He’s heard enough rumors to know the guy gets around. And, well, Eddie isn’t exactly spoiled for choice in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“I mean, I've had sleepovers and shit, slept next to people but… never, I dunno, cuddled?” The last part comes out as a question, like he isn’t sure if that is actually what they’re doing. 

Steve moves closer then, right up in Eddie’s face, tucking his own arm around Eddie’s waist. “And do you like it? Cuddling?”

Eddie’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or the body heat coming from Steve that makes his face feel so warm. “I, uh, I think so.”

“Well, maybe you need a bit more experience to make sure,” Steve says, mischief in his voice. And with that, he rolls onto his back, pulling Eddie with him so he face-plants right onto Steve’s bare chest. Two solid arms come up to wrap around him, one landing between his shoulder blades and the other settling in the dip of his lower back. Steve buries his face in Eddie’s curls and hums. 

Eddie shuffles a bit, turning his head to un-squish his nose from Steve’s pec. The hand between his shoulder blades moves up to card through his hair, fingertips pressing deliciously into his scalp and sending tingles all the way down to his toes. 

Eddie’s head is spinning, overwhelmed by the smell and feel and sound of Steve all around him. He yearns for all of this to mean something, but he’s seen Steve with Robin – how close they get, how easy it is for Steve to throw an arm around her and pull her in for a hug, press a kiss to the top of her head or tip of her nose, how they cuddle up on the couch when they watch a movie. And they make sure everyone knows that it’s strictly platonic. So why would this be anything different? 

He can enjoy it for tonight, though, so he burrows back down into the hair on Steve’s chest, tracing the line of muscle underneath with his finger. He feels Steve shiver and shift, run his hand back down Eddie’s neck and trace over each vertebrae of his spine through his thin t-shirt, getting slower and slower until his hand slips from Eddie’s back completely, coming to rest on the mattress behind him as his chest rises and falls, even and slow, dozing off.

Eddie presses soft, barely-there kisses to the skin beneath his lips for what feels like hours until his eyes droop and he, too, drifts into sleep. 

When he wakes, Steve is gone and he can hear the shower on. He grabs the pillow that still smells like Steve and buries his face in it, pretending it’s only to help ease the crick in his neck.

– – –

SATURDAY

“I don’t know what else to do, Robin!” Steve whines, exasperated. “If I get any more forward with my flirting, I’ll just be straight up asking him to blow me.”

Robin wrinkles her nose at him before going back to applying sunscreen to her legs. “Why don’t you just ask him out, like a normal person?” 

“I don’t know how to do that with guys, Robs, much less one who’s my friend!” 

It’s true, he knows how to hit on girls he barely knows, asks the odd guy in a gay bar to go out back with him. But Eddie? It’s different.

“Why are you being so difficult? Go inside right now and say, ‘Eddie Munson, would you like to go on a date with me?’ That’s it!” Robin hisses. 

Steve flops down onto the wooden dock, squinting up at the sun. “This coming from the girl who took three months to ask out Nancy Wheeler.”

Another voice drifts over, drawing nearer. “Yeah, but at least she actually fucking did it.” Steve turns his head to the side and shields his eyes, watching Nancy sit down next to Robin and dangle her toes into the water. “Steve Harrington, stop being a big baby and just go ask him.”

He sticks his tongue out at the both of them and reaches down, cupping some water in his hand before flinging it towards the girls, spraying them with the cold water of the lake. 

- - -

At first, Eddie can’t figure out what woke him. He takes stock of his body - he doesn’t need a piss, he’s not too hot or cold, he doesn’t think he had a nightmare. So he turns his attention to the room, and that’s when he hears it. 

It’s too familiar of a noise for him not to figure it out immediately, especially when paired with heavy breaths coming from the other side of the room. 

Oh. 

He cracks open an eye, and the room’s washed in cool, dim light from the moon outside the window. He can just make out the outline of Steve, lying on his back, hand moving rhythmically under the covers. His head’s dropped back, mouth open slightly, neck stretched out like it’s begging to be bitten. 

Eddie feels arousal rush through him and he squeezes his eyes shut again, trying not to move or draw attention to himself. He doesn’t want to make this any weirder than it already is. 

But he can’t stop himself from hearing it.

There’s a sharp inhale, followed by a string of little ‘ah-ah-ah’ sounds, and then – 

Eddie must be dreaming, or hallucinating, or maybe he died in the Upside Down and this is his eternal torture, because he swears it, there’s no mistaking it – a long groan followed by “Eddie.”

He can’t help but peek over, sees Steve grab a handful of tissues from his nightstand and clean himself up, tuck himself back into his boxers and roll over, facing the opposite wall. 

Eddie’s ears are burning, his mind on a loop, playing those sounds and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie over and over again. 

He wants to scream, wants to sing, wants to go jump in the lake, wants to run back to Hakwins, wants to climb into Steve’s bed and grind against him. Shit, there’s a thought. 

He adjusts his pajamas, hoping Steve doesn’t hear the creaky springs. He wills himself to calm down, but his dick has other ideas, aching for relief. 

Eddie glances over at Steve’s bed again. He’s quiet now, breathing slow and probably sleeping. And hey, if Steve did it, why can’t Eddie? Fair’s fair and all that. 

Slowly, carefully, he rolls onto his left side and reaches his right hand down the front of his pants. Fuck, he’s so hard and he can still hear Steve’s voice ringing in his ear. His breathing is shaky and he keeps glancing back to check that Steve’s still not moving. 

But Eddie’s never been good at staying quiet, muttered swears spilling from his lips as his breath comes quicker. He manages to swallow Steve’s name, biting his lips together and exhaling sharply through his nose. 

“Eddie?”

He freezes. This isn’t the chorus of whispered Eddies in his head… this is a question, and it’s real.

Steve’s awake.  

He debates not even answering, just pretending to be asleep, but then he hears the other bed creak and Steve’s feet hit the floor, like he’s about to cross the room and check on him. So he turns his head. 

“Yeah?”

Steve’s sitting on his bed facing Eddie, both feet on the floor like he was about to stand. “Were you… touching yourself?” 

“No, I –,” Eddie starts to lie, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, what it even means. Steve reaches for the lamp and switches it on. If he looked good in the cool light of the moon, he looks incredible in the warm wash from the lightbulb. 

“You can keep going. If you want,” Steve offers. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and Eddie wants to feel it sweep across his teeth.

He doesn’t take his eyes off Steve as he rolls over and takes himself in hand once more, looking for any sign that Steve was kidding or pulling some kind of sick prank. But all Steve does is watch him back, eyes darting down to Eddie’s hand moving under the sheets.

“You – can you move the covers?” Steve asks, his voice pitched slightly higher than Eddie’s used to hearing. 

Eddie tries to push them down with his free hand, kicking with his feet to pull them down past his hips, but they just tangle and twist instead. And then Steve’s standing, crossing the short space between them and reaching out for the sheets. 

“Can I–?” 

Eddie nods, and Steve slides his fingers under the edge of the blanket. Steve’s knuckles brush against Eddie’s stomach and he can’t help but shiver at the sensation, thinking of where else he’d like Steve to touch him. 

The night air is cool after the heat that had built under the covers, and Steve kneels at the foot of the bed, still watching like he’s mesmerized. Eddie slows his movements, props himself up on one elbow. 

“Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snap up to his, pupils blown and mouth slack. 

“Just – fuck – c’mere,” Eddie whines, and Steve doesn’t hesitate. He darts forward, hovering over Eddie’s body, one hand cradling the side of Eddie’s head. 

Eddie surges up, kisses him hard and messy, and Steve dips down to meet him. Eddie feels a hand close over his own, tightening the grip and urging him on faster. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Steve pants against his lips, and Eddie thinks that his name in Steve’s mouth is the prettiest sound in the entire world.

Eddie can’t stop his hips from bucking up into both of their fists, desperate and aching. “Fuck, fuck, Steve… bite my neck?”

“What?”

“Bite my neck,” he repeats, dropping his head to the side to get his point across. 

Steve ducks down, licks and sucks and grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin there, but he doesn’t bite. And Eddie’s getting close. 

“You can… you can actually bite, like, with teeth,” Eddie manages, and that seems to do it, because the next thing he knows, he feels Steve’s teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, just beneath his ear, and his tongue sweeps over to soothe the marks no doubt left behind. 

Eddie slings his free arm around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him there, letting him nip and lave in turn until Eddie’s gripping the sheets and biting back a shout as he comes over both of their hands. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes into Steve’s hair, arms drooping over the edge of the bed like wilted flowers. “Holy shit.”

“Shit,” Steve agrees. “You okay?”

“Fucking fantastic, actually. You?”

Steve laughs softly. “Pretty damn good. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, you are wholeheartedly forgiven,” Eddie says. Not that he was mad about it in the first place, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’ll just, uh…” Steve stands and makes a move towards his own bed. Eddie catches his wrist. 

“You don’t like sleeping alone, right?” 

Steve shakes his head. 

“So sleep here. With me.”

– – –

SUNDAY

When Eddie wakes up, the sun is shining through the window, brightening the room. The sounds of voices and dishes drift in from the kitchen, along with the smell of bacon. His stomach grumbles. 

Eddie tosses on the first some-what clean clothes he can find, gathers his mess of frizzy curls up in a bun and heads out the door, ready to eat a frankly disgusting amount of breakfast. 

Robin’s parents are just rinsing their plates when he arrives, getting an early start out on a hike up the edge of the lake apparently. He slides into one of their vacated seats, grabs a plate and loads it with pancakes and bacon before dousing the whole lot in syrup. 

It isn’t until he shoves the first huge bite in his mouth that he realizes Robin and Nancy are staring at him bug-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“What?” he asks, through a mouthful of food. 

They both shake their heads frantically, Robin throwing a look at her parents who are busy discussing whether or not it might rain later. Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Everything is quiet apart from the sound of Eddie’s fork scraping on the plate and Mr and Mrs Buckley’s voices, until they tell them all they’ll be back in a couple hours and close the door behind them. 

“What the actual hell!”

“Jesus Christ, did you get attacked by a vampire?”

There’s an explosion of shouting from both Robin and Nancy, while Steve doubles over laughing. 

Eddie’s baffled. “Fuck are you talking about?” 

“Dude! Your neck!” Robin says, handing him a large metal spoon. 

He moves it around, trying to get the right angle, and finds a massive, distorted red and purple splotch on his neck. His eyes immediately fly to Steve, who is just managing to get his giggles under control. 

“Hey, man, don’t look at me. It was your idea,” he says, sipping some coffee from his mug. “I was just following orders.”

“Ew,” Robin says, pushing her plate away. “Way to ruin my appetite.”

“Bullshit, Buckley, you were done anyway.”

Eddie raps his knuckles on the wooden tabletop, drawing their attention back to him. “Uh, you’re all acting suspiciously cavalier about this.”

Robin and Nancy glance at each other. “We had a bet going,” Nancy says. “About how long it would be until it happened."

Eddie gapes at them, not even sorry that he still has some half-chewed pancakes in his mouth.

“I am gonna insist you cover that up before my parents get back, though,” Robin says. “I don’t wanna deal with their awkward questions about where you got it.”

“God, I hate you all,” Eddie says, piling more pancakes and bacon onto his plate. 

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #virgin eddie munson #i've been sittin on this one for a long time whoops #my fic

[tenthousandyearsx]

Smut game

Thank you for tagging me, @maraudersaffair and @crazybutgood! I loved reading yours. ❤ I'm going to do 10 smutty dialogue quotes instead because I'm not feeling any of my first lines and I'm curious to see what you all choose.

Rules: pick any ten fics, select some smut or pre-smut dialogue, and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, feel free to share anyway!

These are all Drarry.

ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (E, 21k)

“They just… they want to satisfy an itch, Potter. It’s not… It’s not really the same.” Harry pressed a kiss on Malfoy’s lips. “They don’t want to wreck you like I do, you mean.” “Yes.” “Do you want to be wrecked, Draco?” “Fuck, yes,” Malfoy groaned. “By me? Or by anyone?” “By you.”

Just a trial run (E, 9k)

“You had a fantasy about paying to have sex with me?” Potter asked, frowning. Draco snorted. “No, just having sex with you in general. Potter’s eyes glazed over. “How – How old is this fantasy?” Draco took a sip of his drink. “Quite old.” “You wanted to fuck me at Hogwarts, Malfoy?” Draco’s eyes were on him, appraisingly. “Isn’t that what that was all about?”

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (E, 6.7k)

Harry’s face grew warmer, his heartbeat picking up. Malfoy reached out and put his hands on Harry’s hips, pressing against him, his front to Harry’s back. “I bet –” He kissed Harry’s neck. “I bet I could turn you around, tug your tie just slightly, and you’d fall on your knees for me.” Harry shut his eyes, not even bothering to hide the small noise that escaped him. “Yeah,” he said. It was true anyway. He tilted his head a bit, baring his neck for Malfoy, and Malfoy’s hands tightened on him. “I’d do that.”

Truth be told (E, 2.3k)

Malfoy smirked. “Really, Potter. I should have guessed you just wanted to be fucked.” He slid a hand under Harry’s shirt and a moan escaped Harry’s throat. “You do, don’t you?” “Yes,” Harry groaned. “I thought we’d already established that.” Harry was on bloody Veritaserum, had just spilled his guts in a room full of Slytherins, and it was all Hermione and her stupid inter-house parties’ fault.

At wand point (E, 2.8k)

Harry’s mind went hazy, sluggish. “Blackmailing me, Malfoy?” Malfoy smirked. “It’s not blackmailing if you offer, Potter.” He leaned in slightly, lips almost brushing Harry’s, and murmured, “You are offering, aren’t you?” Harry wanted to pull him into a kiss, wanted to drop to his knees and mouth him through his trousers right there and then. Instead, he said, “What if I am?”

Imperio (E, 3.8k)

Malfoy caught Harry’s hair and yanked it back hard, still panting against Nott’s cheek. “What is it? Tell me.” “I don’t like it when you kiss him,” Harry said obediently, because he didn’t, even though he was too turned on and blissed out to find it really upsetting. “Oh?” Malfoy said, sounding delighted, and then laughed and pulled Nott into a furious snog again, Nott’s cock brushing Harry’s parted lips. Harry swallowed at the sound of their moans. “Like this?”

Good (E, 300)

“So good,” Draco murmurs, stunned and a little breathless, lips dragging over Harry’s jaw. “Are you always this good, Potter?”

Why (E, 100)

“This is fucked up,” Draco says, and Harry bites down on his thigh. “Why?” “Fucking hell, Potter,” Draco whines. Harry adds another finger. “Yesterday, we weren’t even on speaking terms.”

Under the Invisibility Cloak (E, 100)

“Shhh.” Draco flicked his thumb. “You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

You can, now (E, 100)

“Like that,” Ginny murmured. “Open your mouth. You’ve wanted this for so long.” Harry whimpered. He let Ginny guide his head forward, let Draco’s cock slide past his lips. “You’ve wanted him all along, haven’t you?”

Tagging @orange-peony, @magpiefngrlrl, @nv-md, @ladderofyears, @makeitp1nk, @sweet-s0rr0w, @roseharpermaxwell, @wolfpants and anyone who feels like sharing smutty goodness!

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #drarry ff #drarry smut #harry x draco #draco x harry #hpdm #dmhp #tag game #smut dialogue #smut game #this change of rules is doubly self-serving #it was easier for me #but I also want to see which parts of your E or M rated fics you select #and then go and read them if I haven't already #whoever does this please tag me!!! #ff games #my fics #my AO3 fics

[jackmercerenthuiast]

Caretaker - Jack Mercer x Reader ✧

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it's been a hot minute since I posted, but the premise of this story is basically Jack survived the shot and you, being the sweet loving girlfriend you are, agree to look after him!

Pre-established relationship ꨄ

✰ content warning! ✩Swearing ✩mentions of alcohol, injuries and brief mental illness

(If any of these topics make you feel uncomfortable as you read, feel free to scroll on, I will try to mark places that involve these things with a purple '*')

➱ my masterlist

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✩ 2006

It's been a couple of months since every thing went down with the Mercers and Victor Sweet, and luckily Jackie survived being shot, but only by a hair. So with my short lived years at nursing school, and a lot of love for and idiot, I took it upon myself to look after him.

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"Hey Mercer it's me! Could you let me in?! " I yelled as I banged on the Mercer's door in the cold January weather. Just waiting for someone to open the fucking door. "Woah babe do you mind keeping the fucking noise down? " A tall, blondish-brunette said as he opened the door, rubbing his eyes with a look on his face that said "I don't mean to be rude I just have a killer hangover". A look that undeniably belonged to my boyfriend Jack, me and Jack had been together long-distance ever since he moved from Detroit, and now that he was back here for good I was so excited to spend as much time with him as a girl could, but that got put on hold for his brothers' revenge plan, which ultimately led to him being shot. Now I've bestowed the amazing job of taking care of him upon myself.

'Lovely to see you too Jackie, now let me in before my tits get icicles. '

He nodded and moved aside so I could come in, we walked into the living room and we sat down on the sofa with him lying between my legs as we watched TV,

'So why are you over here at this time in the morning? '

'Jack sweetheart I need to look after you, you've just gotten out of the hospital and I can already tell you've been drinking. ' I laughed as I messed with his already messy bed hair.

'It's not like that babe, I'm fine, me and my brothers were just having like a celebratory drink or whatever the fuck Bobby called it. '

'Oh that's cute, speaking of your brothers, where are they? '

'At Jerry's I think, they all stayed there but Jerry's wife drove me back here because in her words, I needed to be closer to you because you're the only one who can deal with me when I'm fucked. ' he laughed and fiddled with his hands as he said it, he seemed a bit embarrassed so i lightly kissed him on the head.

'That was sweet of her, and she's right, but anyways did you have a good time with your brothers? '

'Yeah until I could feel my brain practically throbbing this morning when I woke up. '

'Dearie me Jackie, what do I do with you? ' I laughed as I moved his head off of my lap and onto the nearest pillow as I got up and went to the kitchen.

'Babyyy come back please it's cold. '

'Jackie stop being a baby, I'm only making a cup of tea and I'll be right there! '

'Please be quick, you're the only thing helping these fucking gun wounds. '

'You can't rush a good tea baby, and how are your injuries? '

'About as good as you expect them to be, hurt like a fucking bitch, *not only that but ever since it happened I've been waking up in the middle of the night, breathing heavy and tears down my face.' As soon as I heard him say that I immediately stepped away from the kitchen and sat with him again, this time letting him lie on my chest with his arms wrapped around my stomach. I let him talk to me about his night terrors, he laughed to himself as he found it all a bit embarrassing.

'Jackie, in all seriousness that sounds like a symptom of PTSD don't you think?'

'Could be, I keep shakin' too, like it's really fucking weird and I can't even stop it, it only calms down when I'm with you. '

'Awh Jack, you truly are adorable, but I really think you should consider being checked out because it can get super dangerous if you don't talk to someone.'

'Then I'll be fine because I have you to talk to, don't I? ' I could feel him start to shake a little bit, probably thinking that he might not be able to have me as a safety net anymore now that he's "even more fucked up than before" . I shushed him comfortingly and started rubbing his back with my hands under his shirt, and when I felt him calm down I said to him,

'Of course you have me Jackie, and you always will no matter what happens, you can speak to me about anything, but I think at, some point when you're comfortable with the idea, speaking to a specialist would help.'

'Yeah, at some point, but I feel safe here. With you I mean. Ever since I got shot I've been more on edge than ever and I'm always getting myself worked up about everything. Hell sometimes Bobby can't even ask me if I'm doing okay without me yelling at him. I don't want to but I feel so out of control in my own body. But when I'm with you I feel like all of that goes away and that I could just stay here with you forever. I mean it's fucking stupid but you get the idea. ' I could feel a tear fall onto my stomach, so I motioned for him to sit up. I sat in front of him face to face and opened my arms so he could hug me, and he fully embraced me and buried his head deep into my neck.

'I know it's tiring Jackie, and I understand that you feel like you're out of control, and that's why I'm here to look after you, and I always will look after you as long as you need me to, and it's not stupid and it never will be because I love you so much Jackie it's unbelievable. '

'I love you too baby, I love my little caretaker. ' he said as I wiped his tears with my thumbs, and he leaned in and kissed me as gently as he could. I always cherished the moments where Jack could feel vulnerable with me, because I feel as if the environment he grew up in, didn't give him that luxury, as his older brothers always felt as if vulnerability was a weakness, but it was because they had also been influenced by their environment, even with Evelyn that mindset had always stuck with them.

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After a while, me and Jack had went to his room and fallen asleep in his bed after having something to eat, then we had woken up a couple hours later.

'Now what do you want to do Jackie?'

'Whatever you want baby. '

'Wanna watch Grease? '

'Please baby pleasee you know you love 'em! '

'Okay fine, just for my sweet caretaker though. '

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The end! I hope you enjoyed what felt like forever, please consider leaving a comment as they rlly make my day x

Love you loads 💗💗

#jack mercer #jack mercer x reader #four brothers

[egg-emperor]

Your analysis has been really interesting to read through, but ngl the whole mess around text interpretation has led me to ruminate on the fandom's doings a little. This probably will turn into disjointed ramblings, so please bear with me.

What I think is causing this cognitive dissonance is exactly that cutesy framing of some of Eggman and Sage's moments. Like, I don't believe that Sage was intentionally made to soften Eggman up or something, I believe that he can play the "family" act to keep her loyal to him. However, I won't deny that during my watch of a friend playing it, this specific framing left a slightly weird aftertaste, which I now see is what can easily cause so many misinterpretations of the scenes. Like, for example, the memo with Sage's pronouns. After seeing a lot of talk around the memos in general, what seems to throw people off from thinking that Eggman could be just using this as yet another play into her view of him as her father to keep her loyal is "why does he suddenly care about endearing himself to his own creation when he freely disregarded his previous creations". It can be interpreted in character, but there's just a smidge of off-ness that can be hard to wash out for some.

Not gonna lie, I kinda envy the ability of people like to at least mostly ignore the majority of the fandom's shenanigans and drama, cause I think that also plays a part imo, specifically this weird need to somehow ingratiate Sonic as a series to the mainstream, generally non-fan crowd. Like, the onus obviously should be on the people who misinterpret the text and see what's not there, yet these people also tend to be the loudest. And most non-fans seeing it just assume that's what the fandom as a whole thinks, and that's what the text actually is about. After all, nowadays Sonic is all but advertised as "its a kids game for babies so don't think about the story too much, it doesnt make sense in the end anyway", even by fans trying to genuinely recommend the series sometimes. And you'd think that there'd be pushback against this sort of mentality, but somehow, a majority of the Sonic fandom remains almost... defeatist? Like, either they can't argue to save their lives or just passively accept the misinformation. The people actually doing the analysis and all get disregarded as no-life nerds and are told that "no amount of analysis can make a product worth the money".

It's just... I dunno how or why or when it all started going like this, but at some point, the way people talked about media in general just caused immensely screwed. Discussions only seem to happen when someone wants to further validate their pre-established biases about a thing and it all just feels wrong.

Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to read and consider my analysis.

We seem to feel quite similarly. I'm not a fan of the cutesy framing of certain moments because it's not my thing and definitely makes it easier for fans to misinterpret. The casual fan, especially if they don't catch all context in the memos and apply them to the scenes to notice the undertones and understand Eggman's side of the dynamic, or if they're the kind who that stuff can appeal to and affect emotionally/they'd rather ignore the more unsettling aspects in discomfort, they're going to get it wrong.

I think the cutscenes mostly have the issue of focusing too much on Sage's side of the dynamic over Eggman's. A bunch of most important details of Eggman's side comes from the memos, which is great from the standpoint of being right from his personal perspective and words, so we get to know exactly how he thinks and feels- but not so great for those who won't listen or piece together what they learned from them with the scenes for needed context.

But Sage wasn't supposed to soften Eggman up. In the story he's still a bad guy wanting to do bad, wishing he could get out of Cyber Space to, and Sage appeals because of what she can do for him, how she's crucial to his survival, supports his desire for world domination and shows undying loyalty. The way some moments are framed as cute doesn't take away from it, a unhealthy dynamic can appear as cute and wholesome with unsettling undertones.

Ian Flynn pretty much describes it that way by saying you're supposed to feel happy for Sage but Eggman is a bad person and warming up to it for all the wrong reasons. It's intentionally more complex than what the loudest people who love and hate it are saying. I can see what Flynn means because all the pieces are there in the actual game for me to point out and analyze. They just could've been emphasized a bit more.

All you need is the memo where he talks about liking how Sage is loyal and efficient and accepting the father role because it can emphasize his genius and the pride he can take as her creator, then apply it to every interaction and you can see it. Eggman can play the act to appeal to Sage's desire for that dynamic and praise her actions as a way to further encourage her for her loyalty and efficiency, all for those selfish benefits.

It's how manipulation works and Eggman absolutely can and will play up the part with these conditions for the benefits, he's done similarly in the past. It's intentionally not done in the common verbal and physical abns!ve way like he does most commonly with his other creations, it's more emotionally manipulative. It makes the most sense for how he wants to further encourage her good work and loyalty, not lose it.

I can get why you felt that way. It's part of why I had the wrong idea of Frontiers Eggman's at first and it ruined my first experience playing it. The cute framing of certain moments, combined with fans taking these scenes and latching onto the misinterpretations from the moment it dropped and drilling into your head how they think we should think and feel while ignoring key details that disprove it, made me believe it for too long.

But had I not seen the misinterpretation and paid attention and did my usual analysis, which I closed my mind to in my first playthrough in ignorance, I would've caught on a lot faster. Just like how knowing what I know now after properly analyzing it then going into Final Horizon and avoiding what fandom was saying, made my experience more pleasant and let me think and interpret for myself. The fandom is still mostly to blame.

Yeah, the cute moments can give the wrong idea when you don't have all the context. But the context is in the game to piece together and understand why it's happening in a way that works for Eggman's character. I also think while he is of course playing the act, it's also framed cute as it is because we're seeing it more from Sage's side in the scenes, as it's a very different vibe in the memos where it's actually Eggman's side.

Maybe always being able to see the worst in Eggman (positively and affectionately lol 🥰💜) helps but I only see the memos as unsettling now. His creation starts to appear as more of a person to him so he thinks about how he can use it to his benefit by taking pride in his impressive scientific ability to create something so life-like as an artificial creation over the unimpressive traditional organic way he scoffs at and expresses aversion to.

He says if he created life it'd be "loyal and perfectly effective", which is fucked up thing to look for in your child, and says it's specifically because he's the genius creator/father, giving himself all credit and taking pride in her accomplishments as a reflection of his genius. It's selfish, egotistical, creepy, everything a parent shouldn't do. I can see what makes it unsettling in all his words. So many things are wrong with him I love it 😋💘

I really don't have much of an issue with that memo. It's one of the most misinterpreted but it's simply where he starts to realize that almost the whole time he's been calling her a "she" instead of an "it" like the program she was created to be. He actually starts just five after first mentioning her, in memo 13. He subconsciously sees her as a person and refers to her like such that fast due to how human and life-like she is.

Three memos after he's like wait why am I calling it a she? And wonders whether to call her an it like the program she was created to be or a she like he's seeing her as instead. Then another three after comes the disturbing memo about him creating life, so him establishing whether he's going to call her "she" or not leads to him thinking about how he can take pride and credit in her by establishing himself as her genius creator/father.

It's another of those cases where if context is removed it's more likely for people to get the wrong idea, especially if they're the type to be blinded by the cuteness factor but when you have the context of before and after and considering the important terms of why he values her at all with the she's an impressive life-like loyal and efficient creation and her dad is a genius memo, again it makes sense and is in character.

The "she's the best" line is one of the only parts I'd change, he's far too egotistical to say that about anyone else. It doesn't make sense because the whole reason he values her is what she does for him and the pride he can take in her, literally because he sees himself as the best person ever lol. Just specifying what she's the best of, like of his creations or something would've worked, not making it sound like he's saying in general.

But guess what? Apparently it was changed in Japanese in the translation I saw, to say she was just doing great or something lol. It's a case where I can make sense of it in English as her being the best in a specific area can again give himself credit as the creator as he's intentionally supposed to but the word choice was poor. But every time I felt a line should've been changed a bit, the Japanese version had me covered. XD

Back to the point- it's also important to consider that he's praising her in this memo with the important preface of saying that Sage has been crucial to his survival in Cyber Space and listing the ways she has served him well. It's on the condition of him getting something out of it every time. And in memo 19 we know he wants to take pride in her skill and accomplishments and take credit as her creator, so any praise is self praise.

So I can't be mad at the game, I think even in moments that had some level of cuteness factor to appeal to those into that which certainly worked on them, there was established context that made it work and in character, enough to piece it together and understand it. But some people's minds go blank with the "aww so cute" reaction and desire for it to be simply pure and wholesome so they don't think about it any more to do so.

I've been learning to avoid it just by stepping back from fandom because I'm less interested the more I see the drama and bad takes. Now I only see things if I'm forcibly subjected through someone else putting it on my dash/it's recommended/etc. A large majority of fandom is anti canon and literally admit it so I feel like I don't belong in it as a huge fan of it that enjoys celebrating it in my fan creations and discussions.

It suffers from the simplification and sanitization that modern fandom tends to do now, so they can fit all characters and stories into certain boxes and use them as bases to project fan character traits and concepts onto instead of celebrating canon. It makes it more appealing and mainstream and easier to consume by the crowd that stuff succeeds in appealing to. It's to the point it replaces people's memory/idea of it.

So of course from the outside looking in especially, non fans are going to believe that's what the text actually contains, especially since they get exposure to the fandom's twisting of canon and it's drilled into their heads how to think and feel about it by them, before they've even seen the games themselves. Then they find it hard to shut that out and look at the games alone for what they are. That happened to me with Frontiers.

Then of course you have people acting like the series "is just for babies and inconsistent and not good anyway you shouldn't think too hard about it", as if Sega JP especially haven't shown themselves to be incredibly passionate about the stories and characters they write. It is supposed to be that deep lol. And thinking that deeply is a good thing, as if it's better than just shutting our minds off and consume product.

That's why I've allowed myself to think as deeply as I want about Frontiers. I love analyzing every moment and line down to the last word and detail. Regardless of opinion on the concepts and how they were executed, it was intended to be thought about. I don't think it should be considered micro analyzing and thinking too hard about something ever. I'm looking at it in ways official writers have described it to be anyway.

The mentality is popular so there isn't much pushback. Plus I'm starting to see it in both people who say they don't like the games and those who say they're fans so I feel alienated for wanting to think deeper and seeing there can be more than meets the eye with characters and scenes. While clarification can be important so things aren't misinterpreted quite as easily, it's nice for there to be stuff to think about.

Nobody really wants to debate and discuss now. A majority intentionally oppose learning more about the media or hearing out other people. They take the challenging of one's perspective or a disagreement as an argument and act like it's intended as hate from the other person when that's not the case. They're like "I don't want to change my opinion, nobody can convince me, let me enjoy things how I want", etc.

I myself was a bit ignorant at first on the topic of Frontiers. I was convinced I didn't like Eggman's portrayal but it was all based on what fandom was telling me it was and how to feel when the actual game was actually way different. When I finally took suggestions of new perspectives, then shut fandom out and focused solely on canon with my mind open and willing to analyze it again, I saw it in a new light and enjoyed it.

Now some certainly think I'm a low life nerd, as I've been told "it's nice to be a fan until it "becomes serious" and by people saying they don't care what I have to say as if I have to do exactly what they want- because it's bad to be passionate and wanting to think deeply about something I guess. :P I'd rather be doing that than shutting it down. Canon is cool, analysis is good, being passionate and thinking about stuff is fun.

You really hit the nail on the head with that. I've always enjoyed being open minded, analyzing media carefully, hearing out different perspectives, and having discussions. But I made the mistake myself at one point with Frontiers and I regret it because as soon as I realized I almost became what I was against and changed it for the better, it became a lot more enjoyable again. It's always good to stay open minded!

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #asks #my post #sonic frontiers

[sunjoys]

finally started the promised brideshead revisited reread <3 some prelim thoughts :(under the cut bc i got a bit chattier than i was expecting):

i read brideshead for the first time in feb 2022, and i did "annotate" it (scribbled thoughts and notes in pencil along the margins), so i may post the notes i took from that first read during this revisit <3

i love the preface !! (written by waugh abt a decade after it was published) this bit in particular:

its def smth to keep in mind while reading, esp since brideshead is now considered one of The british-country-house novels (part of why saltburn is so compared to brideshead! the director said that brideshead was one of the books in that "genre" that served as reference for saltburn); the note abt the house being a sort of museum nowadays also reminds me of orlando (by woolf, 1928) vs orlando (film adaptation dir. potter, 1992) - a key setting of the story, the great house (an ancestral british home in the countryside, orlandos home) ends differently: in the 20s novel, orlando lives there with her husband. in the 90s movie, the house has been turned into a 'museum', orlando can only visit it from afar. def interesting, the way the british country house changes pre and post ww2!

also "a panegyric preached over an empty coffin" is interesting to keep in mind - waugh approached writing abt nobility w the mindset that it was basically gone - half mourning, half idolising. kinda reminds me of nick carraways approach to gatsby in the great gatsby ;; anyway i think this is interesting bc off the top of my head, most recent media abt the wealthy/nobilty is either satirical/critical or fluffy/idolising with no real teeth to it (rwrb, bridgerton?), or somewhere in between (whatever the fuck was going on in saltburn) ! so yeah this'll be refreshing ig for me ?? idk where im going with this.

also "these ancestral seats which were our chief national artistic achievement" makes me laugh a little when i remember charles, the narrator, becomes a painter, particularly of noble houses. like hmmm there's definitely something of the author in this narrator 🤔

i feel like i should have a third point and i can't think of any. um. oh yeah the prologue! I like how it starts with charles looking back at the military camp as he leaves it, its not a particularly striking first line but it def establishes that, well, charles has a thing abt looking back at places he can't really return to - a thing about revisiting places, you could say [studio audience boos as the drums chime sadly[

it's pretty bleak at the start tho; during my first read i probably wouldn't have gotten past this if i didn't have my pencil w me (the promise of being able to scribble jokes in the margin if it remained boring) (it did not remain boring, btw). ig that'll make the introduction of brideshead more striking?

i am very excited about this reread <3

#2023 jean revisits #<- my tag for this liveblog btw !! mute if u want to avoid spoilers / not b annoyed by me #brideshead revisited #probably won't tag everything w br unless it's like .... interesting #anyway sorry for bringing up saltburn a few times it got me thinking abt why a so unbrideshead story kept getting compared to brideshead #fundamentally brideshead and saltburn are just v different stories with the same initial setup!!!

[mutantninjamidlifecrisis]

Your 23!!!!!???? I’m also 23??!!!!!

Dude; how the hell did you get so good at writing/pos/affectionate

What are your secrets and tips??

Oh wow this got longer than I thought it would be but anyway lets kick this off by saying age is no number! Don’t ever feel like you’re too young/old to start/improve. Also take any advice I give here with a grain of salt! I’m a stem major, I specialise in Zoology, not English. I’ve never taken a writing class, this is just what I've found works from my own experience and also from talking with other people that write fics.

I think first up, have a concept that you deeply, deeply love - an idea that you want to see so bad you’re willing to remove it from your brain and write it down onto a page. This is harder than it sounds.

There are two types of writers, I think. Type One – the people that want everything structured and figured out before they begin, and then there’s Type Two - the others that go: Fuck it, we ball, and type out the story without a plan and let it fly by the seat of their pants. Both styles have their pros and cons. Sometimes when your story is too structured and you’re trying to drive through plot points the story can feel very stiff and rail-roady, like you’re trying to play out certain beats rather than letting the narrative go where it would naturally flow. But sometimes letting the story flow without a plan for long enough means you get lost in it, and it never actually come to an overarching message or end point (i.e., it can get very wish-washy, and parts you want to really hit are less likely to because you haven’t had a pre-established plan leading up to it). You’ll probably naturally lean one way or the other, but I think both these styles can and should be interchangeable when you’re in the process of writing a story. I think having a good structure is particularly important the longer your fic is. The way I usually do things is to have a loose structure set out (typing out dotpoints of what I want to achieve from a chapter and the sequence of events that will play out, and keeping this as a reference during the writing process), and then let myself go wild with everything else in between (probably how I end up with 10k+ chapters. Which. Is not advisable, I think 2-7k is a much more reasonable number).

You might also want to have in mind how long your story is going to be and how much time you’re willing to put into writing it before you start <- (CJ has many sadly abandoned wips because they lost sight of where the story was going and didn’t plan out their time schedule appropriately) I try to plan ahead and have some vague idea of where I want the story to end. This helps a lot with motivation when writing.

If you’re able to write out a one-shot, I would highly recommend it. I tend to really like writing multi-chapter fics because the brainrot gets to me and I have no impulse control.

Once you have your concept and your loose structure (start, middle, climax, end), you’re going to want to expand on things. i.e. what are you trying to say with your story. What are the themes that really hit for you. What scenes are going to make you go absolutely feral (you can write these first, if you want). I’ve got a scene a chapter or two ahead that I already have in mind that’s going to make me go insane, and that’s the carrot at the end of the stick that’s pulling me through areas that I don’t want to write so much.

I also have like, sheets for each character with a list of dotpoints relating to their background, motivations, feelings towards other characters and how these dynamics may evolve over time etc. This is a really useful resource to flip back to when I’m writing.

Research, research, research. Google, read, watch videos. Expand on the stuff that you do not know, or stuff that you do know and want to expand upon (for example, I have had a panic attack before. I can write from experience of what that is like, however I do not know what it’s like from other’s perspectives, and they may have completely different symptoms to my own). The more information you’re able to gather, the more believable and interesting the story is going to be to the reader.

Do Not. I repeat. Do NOT write that you are a new writer/sorry im bad at summaries <- that kind of stuff in your fic description if you’re going post to ao3. I know it is tempting. I have imposter syndrome and the urge to lower people’s expectations before they jump in is very strong, but you gotta at least pretend to be confident. The summary is for marketing yourself and convincing people to give you a chance. You can add that stuff to the author’s notes if you’d really like. People will usually be willing to give you a shot even if you think you’re summary is bad. And often your writing is a lot better than you think it is (after having stared at it for hours). Also, the more you write and post, the better you will get.

I guess the only other advice is uh… Read! Read a lot. I don’t read nearly as much non-fanfiction as I should, but I am constantly reading, and I do believe that there's some non-published stuff out there that's a lot better than "official" books or whatever. There’s so many amazing authors out there – fic writers or no, and there's always going to be someone (probably a lot of someones) better than you. Don't be discouraged by that! Keep in mind the kind of stuff that really affects you, and how the writer got you to that point.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten/left stuff out here so if you ever have more questions feel free to ask. Also google is your friend! There’s so many incredible resources out there that can teach you how to write/structure/improve your story.

Most importantly, have fun with it. You’re not getting paid; you don’t owe anyone anything. If you’re not enjoying yourself, what’s the point?

#Good luck! #also thank you #writing #ask

[naivesilver]

Crowsourced ideas for the EAH/OUAT crossover because I can't get it out of my fucking head apparently and I need to write them all down in a single place

Apple -> takes the place of baby Neal as Snow and Charming's second child, exacerbating Emma's bitterness because like, if you're a bit jealous that your parents are raising and doting on a baby like they couldn't go to you, that feeling must multiplicate tenfold if said baby is a little girl with blonde hair

Raven -> Regina's baby with Robin. Implies that Cora never dosed her daughter with an infertility spell and also that the whole Zelena pregnancy shebang was avoided somehow PLEASE I need this for my sanity. Has magic blood but ON GOD, Regina will bash Rumple on the head if he comes near her kid with weird power-teaching ideas

(when I made the first post about this I completely forgot that Sparrow Hood is a guy that exists in EAH, but it's fine, we can pretend he doesn't OR Regina can have twins - Raven and Sparrow are names that go so well together, after all! And the prospect is hysterical! Surely nothing could go wrong with those two in the same nursery!!!!!)

Ruby and Dorothy were implied to do some travelling together in the show, right? Maybe they could find the remains of a wolf pack like that of Ruby's mother, except all that's left is VERY mistrustful wolfblood young sisters Ramona and Cerise in severe need for adult intervention. Time for Red Kansas to become chaos moms and break some walls the girls have built, I guess

if Jefferson already has one daughter, there is no reason why he couldn't have TWO daughters! Enter Madeline/Maddie, AKA Grace's mad (honorific) little sis

Cinderella is already called Ashley in OUAT so I'd be loath to keep her daughter as Ashlynn but...Lynney? Lynette? Something? Anyway, a glorified Alexandra LMAO same for Hunter, though - for one, where would Graham get a son, and for two, would he name that son Hunter? Nope. Definitely not. Needs workshopping

other kids I have floating around are Briar (but Aurora is already pregnant in canon so whatever that's easy), Crystal (technically as the daughter of the Snow Queen she should come from Elsa or Ingrid's line, but that doesn't sound likely...maybe Anna and Kristoff instead?), Alistair Wonderland (probably Alice and Cyrus' offspring, but that would mean not interacting much with the rest of the crew), Lizzie Hearts (Cora has no right to a third daughter, so what's the closest thing to the Queen of Hearts? Anastasia the Red Queen? Idk??????) etc etc

and now the actual protagonist in my heart, Cedar Booth Wood

so because of Jojo's intervention, her backstory is established as such: she's the result of one of August's pre-canon flings that ends up in Storybrooke when she's quite young. That narrows the window of time where she could have been conceived before her dad was either wooden/a third grader/being a whole dumbass, but I wanted her to be about the same age as her friends and that means keeping her at about 5yo upon her arrival (timelines are wonky because OUAT's timeline IS wonky, but hardly anybody will even read so far, so ssssssh)

August is her nearest relation available, so that's why he gets a handful of child so suddenly. He is...a bit in shock, but he ends up loving her once the surprise wears off. Marco is OVER THE MOON because it's free granddaughter. Archie is just begging that at least ONE member of their family has a kid in a plain, normal way at some point in the future

then the angst kicks in because it turns out daddy's enchanted tree genes are just a little too strong and they resurface quite vehemently once Cedar steps foot in Storybrooke. Maybe she starts turning into wood, or has an averse reaction to lies, or both, I don't know I'd love it to be both, but I'm scared that I will get yelled at for torturing this child any further

the central point is - I was discussing this topic with @bewilderedmoth the other night and she had a STRONG hand in helping me reach the conclusion that a) this is probably the Blue Fairy's fault, so fuck her b) since Cedar is so young in this AU not only would August be desperate that she gets...cured? Un-cursed? Something, but he'd also realize that...shit. He wasn't much older than her when he got thrown into his personal hellscape. That's fucked up. Who thought it could be a healthy learning experience (see point a)? Unhand his kiddo RIGHT NOW or so help him

finally, this unreasonably funny concept from yours truly, to send you off on a lighter note

#ouat #once upon a time #eah #ever after high #sometimes I feel like that post about op consulting the michael jackson amulet in their pocket before ordering food #except instead of mj I'd carry around an effige of august booth #he speaks to me and ruins my life with these senseless ideas #anyway august as cedar's dad so they can both find catharsis when #au: ever after storybrooke

[wonderlandleighleigh]

So I generally catch Sarah Zed’s video essays on Youtube, because I find them interesting and engaging and pertinent to that Fangirl life. I learn a lot from her deep dives (Johnlock conspiracy, Homestuck, etc), and I also get to revel in the sheer chaos when she touches on something I do know about (the Destiel drama).

Last night she dropped a video asking the question: Is Fanfiction Art?

And obviously, if you’re following this lil space, you know this is relevant to my interests. 

Except in watching the video, I kind of found that it...wasn’t.

That, I am, officially, entering my late thirties at the end of the month, and that I don’t...

Care.

And I guess I hadn’t realized just how hot a topic this was for people. I didn’t realize people cared so much about whether their fanfiction should or could be labeled as art. I never thought about it before.

Generally, when I write, it is out of a love of something I enjoy. And/Or I have been taken over by the single-minded writing beast and I can’t seem to stop hyperfocusing (which is how things like Fashionable People came out so fast). It never seemed important whether or not what I was doing was art.

It’s just a thing I do that happens to bring me joy, and I like that it brings a small subsect of other people joy as well. I don’t always write for the same fandom (if you’ve been following this space long enough, you’ve seen me go through many, many fandoms), and maybe sometimes my stuff gets repetitive, but I still find it enjoyable, and as long as that’s true, I’ll likely keep doing it.

For as long as I’ve been in fandom, though, fic has been mostly derided. At the tender age of 13, my older brother called me a hack for writing X-Men fanfic instead of trying to write my own stories. 

 Most people who are not in fandom think that fanfiction only consists of smut. And while there certainly is a lot of that (and I am responsible for a microscopic portion of it), there’s also a lot of not that that many people don’t realize is there. 

But it’s interesting to me that there seems to be this tug of war between traditional, published literature (plenty of which is utter garbage), and fanfiction (plenty of which is perfectly engaging and some of which can be wildly deep and thoughtful). 

Zed also made the distinction between published works about pre-existing characters and worlds in the public domain vs. Fanfiction. For instance, Dante’s Inferno isn’t fanfiction, even though it takes place in the already established world of The Bible. 

And I just don’t know that I agree. Because, at its base level, it is fanfiction. And to say that it is not, or that the wild audiobook I read on Audible that was a Sherlock Holmes/Dracula crossover is not, kind of makes Fanfiction feel like a dirty word still. 

I think Zed’s point was that this kind of literature lacks the tropes often present in fanfiction, and that fanfiction is mostly written to be engaging feel-good stories. That it often doesn’t have anything to say about the human condition. And because fanfiction is so often serialized, and gets critique while it’s being written, it often changes the writer’s trajectory. 

And while all of that is often true, it is not always true. 

And the idea that something can be engaging and feel-good but that means it cannot say anything deep about life feels a little snobby. Keep in mind that Zed is a former fic writer, who has mostly gone on to that video essay life. And she’s quite good at it. But she certainly seemed to view fanfiction as something like training wheels for writers. A stepping stone to original work.

And that can be true. But does that make fanfiction a lesser medium than original fiction? And are there any new ideas under the sun to even write about without stepping on the toes of those who wrote before us? And does that matter? And why do people get so pissy about literature vs. fanfiction anyways?  

If everyone takes inspiration or cribs from something else, which has always been the case, aren’t we all just writing some form of fanfiction or another whether we like to admit it or not? Because original fiction doesn’t happen in the vacuum that more pretentious writers like to say that it does. They absorb other stories from other writers, and news articles, and television and movies and video games and anecdotes from friends and family. Their fictional worlds and characters are cobbled together from experience. And if someone is writing an AU of an already established work, it’s not completely different. There are parallels to filling out an original world vs. filling out an already established world in a different way.

And I could be wrong about that. I’ve written original work before and struggled to find an in with new worlds and characters. Fanfiction does have the building blocks already set up. But in some ways that can be hard too, because you’re working in the confines of an existing space. You have to change Midge Maisel and her life and her world completely if you write a story where she never married Joel or became a mother. At that point, you’ve written yourself almost a new character because her life experience is different So...how is that entirely different from original fiction? 

And maybe this is too complicated a subject to tackle in a tumblr post. I don’t know.  

I don’t know. I think it’s one of the first times I watched one of Zed’s videos and thought “who cares about this subject?” and also “I don’t know that you’re right.” 

Anyways.

TL;DR: it doesn’t matter whether fanfiction is art or not, and it doesn’t matter how it matches up to published fiction. We’re all just farting around until the inevitable heat death of the earth. We might as well enjoy what we enjoy.

#Leigh thinks about stuff #fanfiction

[musette22]

Hi!

I'm a bit new to fandom and I was wondering how you decide what you read 😂

Feeling a bit overwhelmed. Do you read both Evanstan and Stucky? Long or short fics?

No - go's?

How to start? Help 😂😂

♥️♥️

Hi honey! Welcome to the fandom! 💞

Ooff yes, I can absolutely imagine that you feel a little overwhelmed considering how many fics there are for this fandom 🙈 I don't personally have experience with reading fic for smaller fandoms though, except maybe for Evanstan. There are far, far fewer Evanstan than Stucky fics out there, and I would say that my Evanstan to Stucky reading ratio is like 2/98. So when it comes to Evanstan, it should be much less overwhelming! But if you'd like a good place to start, please check out some of these fics, as well as perhaps my own work <3

As for Stucky: there are currently 63,505 works on AO3, so yes, that's a lot 😅

I've made a lot of fic rec posts over the years, including some for people who, like you, were looking for a good introduction to the ship. Here, you'll find links to classic pre-war Stucky fics, and here is a list of some of my personal faves, and here is an additional list of some fandom classics. I think these are a great place to start for someone who's new to the fandom!

Or, if you'd prefer to find your own way from the start like I did: when I started reading Stucky fics, I just sorted them by kudos (highest to lowest), and then scrolled the first few pages of hits until I saw something that seemed like something I'd enjoy! So I would recommend just picking something with lots and lots of kudos that sounds good to you, and then doing that a few more times until you have a clearer idea of the kind of stories you like to read best in this fandom (canon universe or alternate universe, all romance or action packed, enemies to lovers or established relationship, pre-war or post-TWS etc.). Also, please keep in mind that the amount of kudos doesn't always necessarily correspond to the quality of the fic - there are so many incredible fics out there that don't have even a fraction of the kudos some of the more popular fics have, even though imo they're (imo) better! So if something looks good, but it doesn't have that many kudos, just give it a try anyway. You'll most likely discover some of your favourite fics that way! I read both long and short fics, depending on my mood and how much time I have. Both have their merit <3

And then once you know what you like to read, you can use AO3s tag filtering system to find fics that are more specifically tailored to your interests. Another good way to find great fics is by looking at what other Stucky fics the author of a fic you enjoyed has written (or check out their bookmarks!) or use the Stucky Library categories to find stories for specific tropes. They don't update anymore, but there are lots of brilliant older fics to be found that way. As for newer fics, the way I come across those is mostly by following other Stucky/author blogs here on tumblr, who'll post and reblog their own and other people's newer fics.

Most importantly: enjoy, and take your time! These fics aren't going anywhere (though do download your favourites if you think you might like to reread them someday, as sometimes authors delete their works and there's nothing worse than losing a fave </3). And remember that with a fandom this big, you can afford to be picky. So if you start reading something and you're like 'hmm no, I don't actually like this after all', then just move on and find something else to read instead. Not everything is for everyone, and I've been reading fic for this pairing for 5 years now, and I'm still finding new treasures!

I hope this helps lovely, and let me know if you have any other questions. Happy reading!!! 💞💞

#stucky #fic rec #fic recs #minnie answers

[fruitsofhell]

(Just FYI this isn’t meant to be a “How You Should Write Your Kirby Headcanons” post, its just me explaining reasoning for my own and I thought it would be fun to share!!)

     So the way I’ve factored KatFL into my timeline of Kirby Ancients Lore is that all the background of the Forgotten Land happened before and/or separately from any events previously explained to be connected to “the Ancients.” I’ve basically read it as the Ancients being the people of Halcandra and Jambandra, and that the people of the Forgotten Land are precursors to them - the Ancients of the Ancients. But I’ve seen a lot of stuff online where people have the time of the FL and the Halandran Ancients mingle, like Galacta and and Elfilis being meeting or sealing Void and other stuff like that. It kind of made me realize, “Wait? Do I even have a concrete reason why I interpreted it like this other than vibe?” But I realized I actually do, and its a meta thing about how these games are written.

     In a couple interviews recently Kumazaki and the dev team have stated that the series is entirely designed around gameplay first, which means any world-building and lore comes after the main elements of the game are in place. Every new game is built to be self-contained for the most part with the threads of details and basic character arcs connecting them so that they don’t have to fret over story while planning a fun game. That explanation is where that infamous in my mind “There is no canon timeline” quote came from. -

- What that probably means is that the plots of each game and therefore a majority of the lore of them is not planned before hand. Kumazaki just has a blueprint for basic aspects like the existence of the Ancients on Halcandra and the magic and science stuff, and then as each game came out he played by ear and built on top of what was done last. Which is really interesting - on top of not wanting to make the games bloated and wanting things to be open to interpretation, this writing style is probably why things are so vague. And with how this quote was in response to being asked if there would be a Zelda style mess of a timeline someday, I think its cool and functional to keep things loose like this so you can prioritize the gameplay and not make overly messy lore.

     Anyways, this philosophy is exactly what was used for KatFL. The idea of the Forgotten Land as a whole didn’t start with wanting to create a new place for lore, but with environment and game mechanics. -

- And specifically what I’m getting at is that the Forgotten Land as a world likely wasn't designed to interweave heavily with previously established stuff about the Ancients. It feels like this was designed to be its own kinda bubble of lore outside of a lot of pre-established stuff, but to still relate back to it to flesh things out. Like they made this whole new ancient civilization deal, and then for lore they stretched back the timeline to plop the whole of this games backstory there, make it relate to pre-established material in fun ways, and then called it there - they built ON TOP of what was there. Which works surprisingly effectively though definitely my first reaction to this was “they just added more ancients kinda out of nowhere lol?” But I mean the way RtDL kinda just came out of nowhere with a whole laundry list of details about a random new ancient people too, this will probably be built on in the background of later games a bit.

     Now that’s the dev lore side of it, but I also think its really fun thematically. I talked before about how the ruins of Halcandra and the ruins of the Forgotten Land are opposites of each other despite being related, and I think that dichotomy continues if you think of the latter as being complete pre-history to what we know. Not only are the current inhabitants of the Forgotten Land blissfully ignorant to the technological and magical riches of the planet’s ruins besides what innocent enjoyment they can get out of it now, but no one searching for that even knows the place exist because it is forgotten. Halcandra is the hellish plundered planet still looked back to in legend for its secrets and valuables, but the Forgotten Land was completely untouched by that until Kirby showed up. And Kirby and the Dreamlanders aren’t ones to really bother with all that glory and gold stuff so you know it will be safe with them (until Magolor or Susie come to visit). But I think its fun to think of its isolation as being one of that worlds many bittersweet blessings and beauties. Instead of being like Halcandra where the misery of its inhabitants and the legends spread about it turned the planet into a complete wasteland, its former greatness and industry is being naturally reclaimed by the planet to be recycled for the next inheritors of the land. Instead of continuing a cycle of greed and ruination its one of wonder and discovery and all that.

TL;DR - Kirby games are written with the basic structure of the world in mind but characters, plots, and most environments aren't planned in advance, they just build on top of each other. Which means that the FL was likely not made beforehand to interweave with pre-established Ancients lore, but built to be a self contained chapter of the universe history that just leads into what we know. It works nicely if you want to parallel Halcandra and the Forgotten Land and how one being legend and one being pre-history respectively effects how you interpret them as ruins - either as plundered remains or reclaimed wonders.

#kirby #kirby and the forgotten land #kirby lore #kirby headcanon #shinya kumazaki #shut the heck up #kirby lore rambles #kirby writing rambles #really proud of this one #also you should read all those interviews #im talking only about lore but all the gameplay stuff is so cool and i love hearing how much the team cares about all the details #and making fun accessible games with depth #i respect kids media made by really passionate people SO MUCH

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

can you answer ALL the deep fic questions ? or if that's too much... 1-5, 7, 9 thank you!

Deep Fic Asks

Well sure, hello Anon! I'll do that. I'll negate the ones I've already answered, however. So I'll do all the ones I didn't answer yet.

2. What's a fic that took you to an emotional, dark or hard place?

This ones not so much the fanfic's fault, but I've been fairly open about admitting I had a vast fanfic library of works on my AO3 pre-my psychiatric hospitalization. Before that I had an extensive amount of James Bond and Hannibal fics I'd written that I deleted in a haze shortly before my admission to the hospital. I do regret this a bit now, but I can tell myself at least that should a situation like that ever arise again, I'll be more understanding of the signs and perhaps be able to avoid such an event. This was almost seven years ago, now. I was around 25 at the time.

3. What fic are you emotionally attached to?

I have over 900 bookmarks on AO3, give or take. I think it’s hard to really narrow them all down. As it depends on what I’m currently in the mood for. I think that on some level, I could go back and see which ones I’ve re-read the most (some well in the double digits) and think ‘yeah I think I’m really obsessed with this one’.

4. What fic of your own do you currently re-read for comfort?

None at the moment really, I admit. Sometimes I do re-read just to see how I wrote it, check for any errors to fix again, and make myself laugh.

5. What fic of your own won't you read?

Heh, well I guess see answer to question 2.

6. What's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

PLOT. I am good with dialogue, banter, establishing setting and atmosphere. Hell I think I'm even decently good at chemistry and smut. But big-extensive plots? My brain just collapses. I'm much better at character dynamics than story, if that even makes sense. Which is shame because plot is one of my favourite things to read. Hilarious.

7. How does receiving or not receiving feedback or support impact you?

It depends. Sometimes it can be discouraging to write something and have no traction whatsoever, but even one or two people reading something can keep my motivation going. It depends on how inspired I am at the time. There's always going to be that great serotonin boost when someone enjoys something you've created, and I'm certainly no exception here. I also just really like making people happy. (Which is why I enjoy gift fics and requests so much). I love doing things for people. It's as beneficial to them as it is to me, I think.

8. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? If not, would you tell anyone?

Nobody at present does. But if might tell someone if I was comfortable enough with them and they were also a huge nerd.

10. How has writing positively impacted your health or overall mood?

I love to write. I love creating things. Writing brings me a great deal of pleasure, as does people enjoying it. I think it's a big boost to my mood for sure.

11. Has a fic you've written ever caused issues or controversy?

At the moment *no*. Thankfully. Well, none that I'm personally aware of anyway.

13. Do you take pride in your writing or does it embarrass you? Why or why not?

I am not really embarrassed by my writing. Except maybe some stuff I wrote as a teenager. When I didn't know what I was doing. I take some pride in it. I'm hardly an award winning author, but I do like some of the stuff I've produced. If not most of it.

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?

Both, and I think it's inevitable. All creators are gong to do this. Only some more than others. I try to be positive when I can, but some level of 'gee they've done this way better than me" Is very human and only natural. I let it pas along after a bit though. I try not to dwell on it much.

15. How do you think your writing improved over time?

I think I started getting better at the things I was always good at, and using less word clutter, you could say. I used to be so bad for run on sentences, rambling. I've tried to trim and focus better. This goes much better when I have someone editing for me of course. Practice has helped a lot.

17. What's the best engagement/interaction you've received from someone who has read your work?

I love all the engagement I get, and I find it difficult to rank them. I like being quoted back to a lot, or people who say 'you did this bit really well'. I try to be as in-character as I can, and start getting annoyed with myself if a character sounds too OOC. I know that on some level, every character is largely up to interpretation, but I do my best to fit in with what I believe is accurate to them. Whenever I get feed back to that end, I appreciate it.

18. Do you only write when you're inspired, or do you try and sit down and write no matter what?

Definitely the former. I did one Big Bang and had to write regardless and found it at times nearly impossible Forcing writing is one of the hardest things to do, and it will sound stiff and stilted if you try. At least it does for me. I don't even use outlines. I am a flow only dude.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

Hmm. It would honestly depend on the fic, but I guess something with a really engaging plot (action or mystery, perhaps? Or something spy thriller like) with intense character dynamics, intrigue. Things I enjoy reading already, aided by good dialogue and atmosphere.

20. What's the greatest gift you've gotten from your writing?

Having fun and making people happy (or any other satisfying emotion) I know it might sound silly, but having a good time and people enjoying themselves really is half the gift for me. After all, this is fanfic. I'm not getting paid, it's not going to wide audience bookshelves. This is for fellow fans, engagement with friends, and the fun of writing in a conveniently pre-established area. You could say.

Thank you for sending in!

#answered asks #deep fanfic asks #ask gamess #asks

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i want to hear about margo eliot baby hedges!!!!

this was a concept that emerged in conversation with @honeybabydichotomy ages ago... i think actually because i was speculating about why margo is so intensely anti-hedge. eliot's hedge snobbery makes sense to me because of the role that brakebills plays in his reinvention, and because of that one thing the costumer said in her reddit AMA about how eliot sort of patterns himself after fogg because he sees him as a father figure which i am obsessed with and is very key to my vision fo canon eliot - like, it makes sense that he would just sort of adopt that and also that he would get a particular psychological need met about having this whole group of people to feel Better than. and in keeping with that we (iirc) don't really see it come up with him once he's no longer a brakebills student. but margo is still beating that drum like late in season 4 when she should really know better and it feels odd to me with her character because, like, margo's not a joiner? her loyalties are to individual people, not like, groups or concepts. and then add in that ALSO, margo canonically ROBBED A BANK SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, which as per magicians canon requires a great deal of magical knowledge and skill, and like... where the fuck was twelfth-grader margo learning this, if not from hedge witches????

anyway. to some degree this is me once again overthinking a set of throwaway lines that exist for plot/scene dynamics reasons and the writers were not thinking too hard about continuity or character when these choices were made. but i said something like "lol what if she hates hedges because like her hedge ex screwed her over" and somehow that became the notion of what if margo and eliot met at age 18 when they were both fresh to new york city trying to figure out their magic on their own and also margo is getting her bank heist money back from her ex. lmao. that first few days of their acquaintance is the main thing i feel solid about, but if i ever get that actually done i may do a couple other snapshots of the two of them sharing their pre-brakebills years, because the idea is both very charming and also to me full of a lot of potential for pathos, since i read their relationship in season 1 as like... kind of existing around certain long-established third rails. in particular margo's kind of unspoken furious concern about him in the later half of the season comes across to me as a set of emotions she has felt before, and has maybe tried to address or maybe once already convinced herself it was a phase and eliot was over it, etc.

#writing tag #askbox #the magicians