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politemenacephd · 4 months

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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

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nqmonarch · 3 months

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hello......... we meet again...........clown to clown communication............... youve infected me so bad with your yandere blade thoughts please i have to be euthanizeddd.......... please i need to know more of your thoughts on the matter so bad /nf

Hello again :) So I ended up turning a bunch of mini thoughts into a mini story, if you don't mind. If you want more just brainrot thoughts lmk and I can get those out of my brain as well

Originally I was going to publish it in one part however, it's getting a bit too long (6775 words) and I don't like having such long posts.

This is a lot of the leadup portion Part 2 will probably focus more on the Yandere although it starts to lean on that a bit in the end.

TW: Yandere, violence, manipulation, drugging all that kind of stuff.

Also spoilers for Blade and High Cloud Quintet's identity (I don't know exactly which quests I spoiled)

I think the big question first off is how do you even get Blade interested in you?

It could be the classic, knowing Blade in the past, being his lover or friend before he became mara struck. Maybe even being his rival, someone that loved to challenge him, and ended advocating for him to be allowed to die an honorable death out of admiration for your opponent. Either way he'd have lingering feelings for you.

But I like to think you met him by chance on the Xianzhou Luofu when he returned as Blade. Maybe you were a healer, that not only helped but put people out of their misery, peacefully. You were someone who specialized in working with mara struck, finding ways to suppress and calm it, staying by your patients side as they slowly lost their mind, and making sure they didn't hurt anyone. You were trained well in the ways of combat, after all you had to be in order to deal with mara.

Your goal was to help them come to terms with their death and once they had you would hand them off to the Ten Lords Commission. If they weren't ready, that was okay they could stick around. Either way when they'd fully transformed into a mara struck, you killed them. Only once they'd fully transformed would you be able to, otherwise they'd regenerate.

One day, you'd been wandering about when you found a curious person. Someone you knew well because their face was on countless wanted posters. You'd never done much research into the Stellaron Hunters but were surprised to see one of their members was afflicted with mara.

You weren't cruel. Instead you grabbed some medication and approached him, cautiously like how one would approach a stray cat. A few seconds after you'd begun walking toward him, he reached you. Tip of a blade pointed at your neck, grazing it, cool metal pressed against warm skin, it shook ever so slightly each movement threatening to draw blood. He was barely restraining himself, you weren't sure why he was even trying. But you did know that your head would be on the floor if he really wanted it there.

"Let me help?" Your tone was friendly, and you held up the bag of medicine in your hand. Your words didn't register with him, you doubted he could even see your lips moving. But the most important thing was to have a nonthreatening presence.

For mara struck you could strangely talk your way out of it. You were surrounded by mara while working, to the point you stunk of it. For some reason mara struck soldiers never attacked you unprovoked, it was a strange phenomena and that was the only reason you could think of.

Unfortunately, it didn't work for you this time, and you quickly found yourself trying to outrun one of the most dangerous men alive. Oopsie? At least it was kind of fun! This exhilaration was really nice, you should get in near death experiences more often! You felt the wind whip around you as the hunter was hot on your trail.

You wouldn't be able to outrun him much longer, the only reason you'd gotten this far was because he'd been in the middle of swinging his sword at you. So your only option was to unconsensually drug him. That sounded really bad. But your life was at risk! You slipped one of the pills into your hand, it was one of the heavier ones that would cause the patient to pass out. There were some cases where even your medicine couldn't comfort, then the best thing would be sleep.

With a minor turn of your ankle you swung around and placed your hand in his mouth, opening it, and getting the medicine in. He bit your hand near immediately, but you kept it still, even though his teeth would sharp as fuck you could feel them even inside your hand clenching down. You felt the warmth of blood, and waited a moment looking into his eyes.

You wouldn't hold it against him, he was mara struck. This was how they acted toward most people, not normally you, but it felt good to be treated like most people for once. You were normal. It was nice. Then he fell off your hand, tumbling straight backwards, and hitting the ground with a painful thud.

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt," You muttered, not entirely sympathetic to the man that just tried to kill you. But he was an interesting person. A Stellaron Hunter with mara, huh?

Maybe you didn't know as much about them as you thought. You slipped off the cloth bag around your shoulder and fixed it over his face. Then you grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him, his clothes dirtying upon the street floor, back to your little apothecary. Heavy.

You managed to lift him for a few moments to put him on a cot, before placing your hands on your knees, and taking a moment to catch your breath. You prepared some medicine in case if he was still mara struck and a glass of water. He woke up in only an hour, you were lucky to have enough time to finish bandaging your hand. Normally, it'd keep people out for six hours. The farther along they were the less productive it was. By all accounts he shouldn't be able to have a single moment of sanity.

Yet when he got up from the bed he seemed normal. Eerily so. You remained poise in a seat near his bed which he hadn't noticed. His eyes rested on the pills before looking around the rest of the room and reaching you. He reached for his blade, moving his hand next to his side and grabbing at empty air. Thankfully, you'd already removed the blade from this room, he was probably more deadly when he had his wits about him.

You chuckled at his response, feeling your nerves heighten as you resisted the urge to run away. Maybe this was a bad idea. "Hello there, good sir!" You greeted chipperly, "I saw you passed out on the side walk and dragged you back to my humble abode! Is there anything I can do for you?" You kept on your 'being yelled at by a 500 year old Xianzhou long life mother whose kid had just been told they couldn't throw stuff at people' smile.

He remained quiet for a moment, assessing to see whether or not you were a threat moving his eyes up and down, "...My sword?"

"What sword?" You replied back innocently. No way were you giving that back.

He let out a sigh, getting up from the bed, and heading to the door. The good news was he didn't try to attack you, the bad news was that the most fascinating mara struck victim was leaving. You couldn't let that happen.

You raced in front of him, putting your hands and waving them defenselessly. He looked down at you, red eye glaring down at you as if you were obsolete. You laughed again, "Well, uh, good sir, as someone that helped you can I at least know the name of uh--"

"Get out of my way -- knowing me won't do any good." He was definitely going to kill you if you didn't move. But you couldn't just let him leave!

Your smile grew even further, holding your cheeks up painfully, "Well-- you see-- you're so beautiful!" You said desperately, "I was taken by you-- love at first sight, you see? Right? You're just-- so wonderful!" You stammered out, voice shaking, "Can I at least know the name of the breath taking soul who stole my heart!"

The long blue haired man froze in his path, hair swaying to a halt behind him. No fucking way that got him. He seemed befuddled, glancing further away from you, eyes focused on a small portion of the floor. "Blade." IT WORKED?!

Blade remained quiet for a moment longer before turning his head back to you, "Now move." Of course it didn't work, if it worked you would've been in a relationship by now.

He side stepped you easily, leaving you to stare at his broad back, clothes tight around his muscles. Now wasn't the time to think about that. "You have mara right? I can cure it." It was a bold claim. You'd never done anything like that before, and his case was more severe than others.

He stopped in his steps, "What?" One deadly word made you almost want to take back everything you said but you couldn't. Blade experienced mara differently than others, that was clear. If you had the chance to work alongside him then maybe... you could figure something out?

Even though you portrayed yourself as undisturbed by your job getting to know so many people and then watching them turn into monsters was horrifying. Blade was interesting, you'd hate to call him a test subject but, if he consented he'd likely end up helping your understanding of mara. You just needed a reason for him to stay.

"I work with mara stricken citizens and soldiers. I've researched it for my whole life and I use this knowledge to aid others, helping alleviate their pain, calm themselves, or sleep when mara takes them," That was convincing enough, right?

He appeared skeptical, still poised to attack even without his sword. But as you continued smiling, a hopeful yet scared look in your eyes he let out a sigh.

"Can you kill them?"

You paused a bit, understanding his intention, "Only when they're fully taken by the mara." Otherwise they'd only heal, "I can alleviate your pain until then." You were shocked at how self assured you sounded, as if you could genuinely help him rather than just use him for discoveries.

Blade remained quiet and unmoving, a statue with the first rays of sunlight hitting it and breaking it free from darkness, "Okay." His voice was quieter than it'd been this entire time, you thought you'd misheard him.

"Okay?" You repeated, as if what you'd heard was a dream.

"Keep your distance." He stepped out of the sun and toward your door frame before pausing glancing back for such a short time you thought you'd imagined it, "I will return, if it's what you want."

It was strange, Blade had a peaceful sleep unplagued by dreams of dying and pain. If there was a chance it was because of you and you really wanted to meet him again, then he shouldn't resist too hard, right?

You felt a smile grow on your face lifting up its corners as the swordsman continued to walk away, "Yes! That's wonderful!" Then you paused realization sinking in, "Oh, Blade!" You called out, hoping he wouldn't kill you for this, "Your sword's by the door!"

You saw him glare at you and instinctively shut your eyes preparing for a sword to be lodged between your eyes. But when you opened them neither he or his sword were to be found.

Part of you expected him to never return and he didn't tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow he didn't come back. You wanted to give up hope. It made sense and was likely better for your safety but, Blade was the breakthrough you were looking for.

You smiled at the elderly Xianzhou long life that you were walking with through one of the fake gardens on the ship. They continued to rattle on about their great granddaughter and how hard she'd been training to be a cloud knight. To care about someone's progress, such that the smallest milestones mean as much to you as they do to them-- that must be love right? You were a bit envious. You wanted to love like this old soul. Someone who had nearly lost their mind the other day to mara but could continue going on, loving, and hoping.

That day was the day they left, agreeing to be taken away by the Ten Lords Commission. It was bittersweet, as it always was and you were alone, again. That was alright though.

What wasn't alright was being woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of footsteps. Someone had broken in. They weren't well, they sounded limp, as if they were dragging one leg. But since you hadn't heard the door being broken down, they'd likely come in through the window you tended to leave open. Look-- people on the Luofu don't normally resort to these matters and if they did then they wouldn't go after you.

It meant whoever came was both highly skilled and injured. With careful steps, putting your feet down gently and slowly one in front of the other, you approached the trespasser.

You smelled the blood first, the faint irony scent that made your noise scrunch up momentarily as your mouth imitated the taste of blood. Then you saw it. The small dark red trail that gleamed in the moonlight. Then him.

You felt rather satisfied, even in a state where he was taken over by mara Blade had somehow made it back here, "I knew you'd come back," You spoke playfully.

At the sight of agony in his eyes, a pang of guilt struck your heart. It really wasn't the time to be joking around. Perhaps there was some sanity still left in him, as his whole body shook, shaking even more as you approached closer and closer. Part of him must want to attack you, to kill you, to rip you apart until you were nothing, but he wasn't.

"Good," You commended him, as you stood in front of him and knelt down, aside from the shaking Blade remained still. He looked like he wanted to scream, hurt himself, kill himself, rip himself apart until nothing remained. Did he want to die more than he wanted to hurt you? Was experiencing mara that painful? You'd never know.

"I just need you to do one small thing for me okay," You spoke gently, even though you knew he likely couldn't hear your voice at all.

You thumbed through the few medications you always kept handy in your pouch, and picked one for pain relief. Last time you'd needed him to sleep or you'd die, this time you could see the effect of what they did. You moved the pill into his mouth and saw him struggle to swallow, you weren't moving your hands close to his face though for some reason you had a feeling he might bite them off-- like a dog would.

He was a lot more like a dog than you expected. The medicine had been able to work, body instantly relaxing, to your surprise. The more surprising thing was what happened after. Blade visited you, more often out of his own free will, not just when he was mara struck.

Blade was an awkward companion, terrible at small talk, and you couldn't take care of patients when he was near for fear they might see the Stellaron Hunter. Sometimes he would mumble under his breath about a price, or bring you small things, little trinkets, food, a severed hand-- A SEVERED HAND?!

"Why are you giving me this?" You looked down at the bloody hand he was holding onto, your eyebrow twitching slightly. You were used to blood and all but this was unnecessary.

He looked up at you, partially confused and disgruntled at your obvious disapproval, "He bothered you?" His statement came out more as a question.

Oh. It was him-- You let out an aggravated sigh, "You didn't get caught right?"

You noticed Blade perk up ever so slightly as if he thought what he did was right, "No."

That was good at least. "Don't do that again." What was he a dog? Or maybe a cat was better, bringing you pieces of their hunt. Now that you think about it, where did he get those trinkets from? It was probably best not to think about. "Go put that away," You said dismissively, moving your hand up to touch your forehead lightly.

You were going to regret this weren't you? Well, that was a problem for future you. You weren't sure exactly where Blade put the severed hand but as long as it was away from you it didn't matter. For a moment you considered asking him for help, to maybe capture a mara struck so you could test to see if anything would work on it. But that was too far, wasn't it?

The days carried on and so did Blade visiting you. He'd come to you for medications that alleviated his pain or helped him sleep without his memories tormenting them and you obliged monitoring him all the while. Then one day he started to request it.

"Kill me," He'd spoke suddenly, as you were leaning over some finely grounded herbs trying to come up with something new to keep stronger pain at bay. Your medicine's effectiveness was starting to wear off on Blade.

You flinched spilling the small specks to the ground and staring at him in the eyes, "Excuse me?"

You didn't think he'd hated spending time with you that much! Sure, you were kind of using him, and you got upset at him whenever he brought you something drenched in blood but who wouldn't?! You thought the two of you were getting along just fine! You'd even consider him a friend... A strong word for a Stellaron Hunter. You knew he'd have to leave the Xianzhou Luofu eventually too.

"You can do it," There was a slimmer of affection in his voice it made you almost think you misheard the part about you killing him, "If anyone can, you can." It was oddly affectionate. You kind of despised how he spoke, as if he would never speak to you again.

You let out a small laugh, "Shut up Blade." Drop the conversation topic.

But he kept pushing, "Find a way to kill me." Blade took a step closer to you, and for the first time since you met him, you felt in danger.

"And what if I said no? Remember, I'm uh... head over heels for you," You said lightheartedly referencing to your excuse when you'd first met him. "I wouldn't be able to bare it if you died!" You smiled up at him, squinting your eyes.

Normally, you'd be a bit peeved that your sample had been knocked over but right now you were unnerved, and much worse, worried.

It looked like he was more in pain from your words with the way he grimaced at them. "Please." It was wholly desperate and vulnerable, a statue split open to reveal a bleeding heart which begged to be free from its misery. If you stabbed it the statue and everything around it would crumble. Not that there was much around it to begin with but-- there was you.

But Blade was your friend, in a very odd way you'd started to care for the strange man, "I'll try." He was in pain, it'd be wrong to let him just suffer, right?

Plus, you'd already collected enough data... You knew when medicines would stop being effective on the normal mara struck Xianzhou long lives and what to swap to. You hadn't found a solution but you'd found something that could better keep their sanity while they were in that state, even if it required the rare, Vidyhara bone marrow. You'd begun to find something that could supplement that as well, although you'd only heard of it in books you had to find Scalegorge Water Scape.

It was okay. You had all the information from Blade you needed. This was fine. This friendship always had an expiration date. His smile made it all worth it anyway. It was really the first time you'd seen him smile and for once he looked relieved, completely relaxed.

"Thank you," Foreign words from him, "When the mara strikes... It's no longer me." But what if you could fix that?

If you helped him keep his sanity then you couldn't use the pills to keep away the pain, or the ones to sleep. They couldn't clash. Maybe you had to figure out how to make it so multiple could be taken? Your mind raced for a different solution but in the end all you could do is smile back. Blade smiling was a beautiful sight. One you thought you'd never be able to see.

That night you cried. You hadn't seen Blade happy before. So why was he only happy at the idea of death? But you were a doctor you would remain stony cold and do the best you could.

It didn't work. Of course, it didn't. Why would it? You could've sworn his heart stopped for a bit, a few minutes after passing out after swallowing your "medicine." Was it really medicine if it killed someone? But he lived and he woke up coughing blood.

Blade wasn't happy but at the same time he seemed rather relieved..? You hated it. Someone too used to dying by the hands of a sword, by the strokes they were used to performing, that poison was a soothing way to die. You absolutely despised Blade. But you smiled and told him you'd try harder. You just didn't know what to do.

A few days after your promise Blade came back with a strange gift for you, a book titled Views of the Universe From a Starskiff. At the time he brought it, he'd been in pain, grunting, and making too much noise for you to have any patients over. You'd stopped taking patients recently anyway. Instead only selling medicine promising you'd been on the edge of a break through and needed more time.

His memory had been scattered and he didn't recognize you. He'd swung his sword at you only to stop a moment before it hit you. You were right. When you'd originally met him, if he wanted you dead he could've killed you. You could still feel the air sweep by your head, and the cool blade on your skin. He didn't remember why he brought the book to you and when he returned to a better state of mind, you decided not to ask.

Instead you did some research on your own, and it lead you to an interesting person. Someone you really didn't want to talk to.

You shifted uncomfortably under the amber gaze of the general, "Do what do I owe the pleasure General?" Your voice was stiff, and shoulders tense as he only smiled in response.

"General is a temporary title, you can just call me Jing Yuan." You smiled in response, corner of your lip twitching a bit.

"Right, so what do I owe the pleasure, Jing Yuan?" Your smile strained further but all he did was laugh causing your smile to shift into a scowl.

Jing Yuan smiled down at you, not the least imposing, "Relax, I was just curious about some activity around this area." Did Blade kill someone without you knowing?

Throughout the whole conversation you remained tense as the general idly brought up his younger days as part of the High-Cloud Quintet. He was clearly just talking about this sort of stuff to get you to let down your guard! You looked at him warily, paying special attention to every individual word looking for hidden meaning. Eventually you found the hidden meaning. He was helping you.

The author of the book you'd been researching, Views of the Universe From a Starskiff was named Baiheng. "You knew this whole time," You muttered, a bit peeved, you'd thought you'd done a good job hiding Blade's presence and yet this old man somehow managed to figure it out.

The General simply smiled in response as you tried to clarify the situation further, "So Yingxing is--"

He stood up from his seat, "It matters not. The past is the past." Yeah, you probably shouldn't talk about this. You stood up as well.

"I'll walk you out," You spoke, still wary of the man but if he wanted to hurt or expose you, he would've done so already. "...Is it really your place to tell me this though?"

Jing Yuan paused as if in contemplation, still smiling, it was eerie how he could smile after everything. He was an unbreakable monument dedicated to the Xianzhou Luofu, "Who else could?" No one else would remember nor be able to share, so was that why he decided to step forward?

You opened the door for him, feeling the sun greet you again. "I hope it brings you peace." Your voice was sudden, as you looked at the man with new found appreciation. Even the hardiest statues still had bleeding hearts.

You would kill Blade. If it was the last thing you did.

You grinned rushing over to the blue haired man, the scent of iron around him. You told him that if he made anyone bleed before coming to visit you that he should bathe. You'd have to check if he was bleeding. "Blade!" You greeted him cheerfully, rushing over, and grabbing onto his arm. He stiffened.

You dragged him over to your work station moving your hand gradually down his forearm and to his wrist to be able to pull him better. His hand reached out for yours, and latched onto your wrist instead. The two of you were friends. Killing him was the right thing to do. But if he didn't want to die, you wouldn't mind Blade sticking around. You would take care of him as you would a patient.

"Do you still want to die?" You might as well check, there was no harm in it, maybe he'd stay after all.

To your dismay, he nodded, it was cold and steady. Your smile stiffened but remained on your face, this was fine. It was what you expected.

"I'll still do my best to help you," You promised him, truly meaning your words. It was just, you didn't have any idea of how to proceed. Maybe, the mara struck would have an answer but even you weren't foolish enough to wander into their hordes. Sure, you were lucky that the mara struck seemed not to attack you normally but luck couldn't be all you relied on. "But, in order to do so I need to observe mara stricken more up close," You admitted, that was your best bet, "Could you help me with that?"

Blade was strong. You'd seen the way his muscles flexed and tensed under his shirt whenever he made a swing with his blade. This would be easy work for him. The selfish part of you was happy you could spend more time with him too.

That started the third phase of your friendship with Blade. The first being the initial visits, the second being your attempt to kill him, and the third being yielding him as if he was a blade. It made you feel kind of guilty. Speaking commands beneath your voice of who you needed restrained, looking down at abominations as you tested new pills on them to see the effects. They'd writhe as Blade held them on and you watched onward apathetically. They were monsters, you shouldn't care about their pain.

Then you'd try to kill Blade. Again and again. Seeing him cough up blood and lay motionless on one of your cots. Or seeing wounds reopen over his body, blooming as if they were flowers. It was sickening. You didn't know how many times you did it nor how many times you could continue trying to do it. He would bare his teeth, biting down on cloths, letting out whimpers, blood slowly covering everything close to him.

"I can't do it." Maybe if you were competent it would be okay, you could give Blade the freedom he deserved away from the pain and mara and biting harsh memories. But you weren't a competent enough doctor. Nor were you a good enough friend to tell Blade to the face.

It had been a cold night on the Xianzhou Luofu when you decided to leave. There'd been a lot of commotion recently, the Ambrosial Arbor had risen and fallen again. Blade had been more distant, visiting less often, as if there was something he was keeping from you. How he made your heart ache.

You loved him. That was why you had to do this. You stopped by the divination commission on your way out, a letter from Jing Yuan in your hand. You'd never met Master Diviner Fu Xuan before nor were you looking forward to doing so. If she could see your memories that would mean Blade would be at risk. But you had to know if this would lead you down the path where Blade died.

But you didn't end up meeting Master Diviner Fu Xuan at all. Instead you met a much taller, purple haired woman, with hazy eyes. She greeted you as if you were a friend, and you approached her with caution smiling in response. "I know you," your voice was laced in excitement, "Kafka, the Stellaron Hunter! A bounty of 10 billion, right?" Why did she have to show up now?

You held your hand out with a smile, "I've heard wonderful things about you, you're even more beautiful in real life than on the poster!" Your heart raced trapped in your ribcage, thrumming against it nervously. This certainly complicated your plan.

"Hi, Y/N. I've been meaning to meet you," Her voice was sultry yet teasing, which was more menacing than if it'd been cold and harsh like Blade's. She knew your name too, that must not be a good sign.

She remained back against a wall, small smile on her face as if she was toying with you. You dropped your hand back down to your side. "Is there anything I can do for the esteemed Stellaron Hunter?" You really just wanted this to be over with.

"Not for me," She pushed herself off the door frame and you could see into the battered room. Blade was slouched over, eyes stapled shut, the small shakes his tense body let out were barely noticeable.

You were by his side in an instant, kneeling before him before you could even think, hand resting gently on his chin. Since when had you begun to care so much for him? Was it when he'd gotten slashed in the arm by a mara stricken soldier due to your negligence? Or had you cared for him before you ever met him?

You had half the medicine on you, half back at your place in case he ever returned in search of relief. The half on you was for research but it would be better used for something like this wouldn't it? You glanced behind you feeling eyes stare into your back, and Kafka simply smiled as her eyes met yours.

"Well, Bladie's never been so obedient," She replied simply at your questioning look, causing your shoulders to tense.

You turned your attention back to the patient in question only to be met with a red eye gazing into yours, his face much closer than you remembered it being. You stood your ground looking into his eyes with a harsh look, did he really have to always go and get himself hurt? You could smell the blood on him.

"Who... are you?" Sometimes symptoms of mara included memory loss so you weren't surprised by the question but it still hurt. But it surely didn't hurt as much as Blade was hurting right now, you could see his wince as he accidentally glanced at the light behind you.

You slipped a pill between your fingers, "It doesn't matter, I'm here to help you," You replied simply, lifting your hand up to his mouth, "Now open."

Once Blade became more docile around you during his mara episodes you'd started to deliver his medicine this way. Originally, you hadn't done so since you valued your fingers. He opened his mouth without a second thought, albeit he looked rather confused as to why he complied.

You glanced down at his faint pink lips a sheen covering them, he really was beautiful. If only he could experience the beauty of the world at full. The pill was placed between two of your fingers and you brought it up to his lips, pushing past them, and his teeth leaving the pill in a good place for him to swallow. This was how it always was.

You felt his tongue move as he swallowed it without a second thought and you removed your fingers like normal, except. You glared at him, keeping your hand still. Apparently you still had to worry about him biting your fingers off. "Blade," You spoke warningly feeling the teeth pressed threateningly into your index finger, the other finger escaping freely.

He didn't respond and you swore you heard a laugh behind you which only further irked you. He wasn't biting down hard enough to hurt or draw blood but you knew the second you tried to move it he would. Instead of responding by letting go Blade only looked up at you like a dejected puppy. His bandaged hand reached up and grabbed yours, you could see faint blood stains near the edge of where it reached his wrist and disappeared beneath his sleeves.

"Don't bite me," Your voice was stern as you looked down at the blue haired man, only growing more remorseful by the moment. It was strange behavior, a kind he hadn't exhibited before, but he hadn't forgotten you before either.

This time his teeth let go of your finger, leaving it slightly warm and wet in his hand's hold as he clutched onto desperately as if he was afraid you'd disappear before his eyes. It should only take ten minutes for the medicine to leave him vulnerable and helpless, yet he was already so docile. You had to wonder if he knew you were planning on leaving.

You let out a quiet sigh, keeping your voice low as these words were only for Blade and you. Your hand reached to brush his hair off to the side, resting along his jawline near his ear. You moved close enough so that he could feel even the slightest inhale and exhale against his ear, "I'm doing this because I love you."

It was a shitty excuse but it was closest to the truth wasn't it? Maybe if Jing Yuan hadn't told you the truth then you wouldn't be so determined to help Blade. Maybe you would've cried to Blade that you couldn't keep failing to kill him because you didn't even want him dead in the first place. You wanted Blade by your side.

"I'll figure it all out, I promise." It was the most loving your voice had ever been yet when you met his eyes again you didn't see a subdued look instead a more panicked one took its place. It didn't take long for you to be entrapped completely, arms holding and rooting you in place, leaving you unable to move.

It was as if he was trying to merge your bodies into one. So you'd never be apart again. Your nose resting above his shoulder as the rest of you was pressed into him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer and tightening. It hurt a bit. They continued to squeeze you, hands pressed against your sides gripping onto them.

"Gentle," You reminded him, voice tickling his ear, and as he eased his hold, Blade's head collapsed against your shoulder, hot breath hitting your neck. It took you a few moments to realize he was crying. That the sudden small burn against your skin was tears.

He spoke in a broken voice, "Who are you?" You began to cry too, wrapping your arms around him with equal need.

"It doesn't matter, I'm going to help you." Your voice must've sounded ugly as well, off pitch from emotion.

"You... can't leave." They weren't words you expected, but you noticed his grip loosen on you anymore as time continued onward.

You couldn't reply. You had to leave right now, the answers you were searching for weren't here. They lay with Yaoshi and the lands Yaoshi had touched. If you could journey to those and research the people and mara there... you would be able to kill Blade. You didn't want to kill him. But to leave him in this agony was more painful for the both of you.

"You..." Blade looked up at you, head tilted, agony in his eyes, "don't... ...leave." You smiled down at him, unable to find the words and instead moved your lips to press against his tearstained cheek.

At your lack of response you felt his head tilt and his breath hit your shoulder. Then he bit. It didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. You thought his aim would be to tear through your skin and take your flesh with him, leaving a bloody hole in his wake. But instead it was a persistent gentle movement, desperate to leave an imprint, to keep you here, to convince you. The both of you knew he'd pass out in a minute or two, the decision would be up to you after that. So he pressed his teeth into your skin, removing them for a second and pressing again, hot tongue licking your skin in between the pattern. You really shouldn't be feeling these sorts of things at a time like this but you couldn't help the heat rising to your face.

There... wasn't any harm in this right? "...You're beautiful," You muttered, only able to see his long hair you rested a hand on it. You moved your hand through it slowly, untangling any knots you came across. "Really," His body collapsed into yours, completely devoid of any strength, "I love you," You couldn't help but smile despite the tears.

It was hard to hold his body up by yourself. You were strong but Blade with all his muscle mass was heavy, either way you placed him back down on the seat without aggravating any injuries further.

Then you stood up and turned your back, ignoring the minor twitching and hand reaching out for your warmth that came from his subdued body. Kafka, had turned her back to the two of you, instead looking outside as if she was searching for someone.

"All done?" She asked, voice playful when you joined her outside. Yet you felt some type of understanding from her.

You nodded and handed her the pouch of medicine, "I am, instructions are in the bag," you said you'd brought it along for research but hadn't that just been an excuse? If you'd seen Blade again you could've given it to him. "There's some more at where I stayed."

She looked back at Blade, lying motionlessly, "Well, you have made my job a lot easier."

"Take good care of him," You replied, beginning to walk off.

"Bladie will be awfully sad to hear you left," Kafka called out, her voice carried its usual lilt but you sensed a strange seriousness to it.

If anyone had ever told you you'd fall in love with a Stellaron Hunter you probably would've believed them. If they told you, you'd be trying to kill the person you were in love with, you would've hated yourself. "I know, but this is the way I show my love." But... wasn't this the best solution?

You decided to not go see Master Diviner Fu Xuan, having run into the Stellaron Hunters so recently probably would make it easier for her to see them in her divination. At least you assumed so, you didn't know much about divination. The night was quiet and dark aside from one gray haired individual walking toward where you'd just been, looking around anxiously with each step. When you reached the starskiff you didn't look back.

Kafka played with the small pouch in her fingers, letting out a slight sigh. Everything was going as planned, albeit she couldn't help but feel a bit bad for Bladie. Her eyes darted to the source of sudden footsteps, finally, the Trailblazer was here. She couldn't interfere with what happened anyway it was best not to dwell on it.

You were part of the script. The ending Elio had promised, the one where Blade died.

Lots of notes here:

OKAY GUYS IDEA SO LIKE BLADE X READER BUT ALSO YAOSHI X READER (why do I simp for Yaoshi so much)

Like dude Yaoshi would love the way that reader treats the life they've curated and grown. While Yaoshi lets it grow without regard and only cares for the abundance they have to admit the life you cater to comes out more beautifully.

SCREAMS

Also sorry for the wait but I wasn't doing super okay mentally past week so I didn't write much, thank you guys for your patience! I had a lot of fun writing this, I know it really isn't thoughts or anything but I like having a story play out :D

And I also wanted the romance to seem organic and more natural even though it's yandere I wanted it to make sense. So I hope I managed to accomplish that even though I feel like it considerably lengthened this (especially nonyandere portion)

Was originally going to edit this but it turned out way too fucking long.

#hsr #hsr x reader #blade #blade x reader #yandere blade #soft yandere #long read #drugging but like its medicine it makes more sense in context #desperate blade #jing yuan is too good for us honestly i love that man he deserves so much better #unedited

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thursdayisbetterthanfriday · 6 months

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Science Fiction as a Reflection on Society - PLUTO & The Cycle of Hate

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING -You can read this before reading PLUTO but it will spoil many major plot points!

In 2015, I picked up a manga volume in a London bookshop called PLUTO. I had a burgeoning interest in AI, and computer science, at the time and had read Naoki Urasawa's manga Monster many years prior. It seemed a perfect read. Little did I know, it would become my favourite manga.

As I read the first volume I realised this wasn't just a simple Astro Boy adaptation. Like many of Urasawa's stories, PLUTO was a layered story which took its source material and asked fundamental questions about its premise.

The more innocent veneer of the Astro Boy world was stripped away, and echoes of the Middle East, of Afganistan, Iraq and Palestine, were transposed into the background of what was on the surface a simple detective story plot. The long memories, and relentless logic, of robots became a means by which conflict could be examined, but also a way to reveal the weaknesses in the non-empathetic nature of robotics and AI.

Instead of a traditional manga and anime trope of beating the strongest villain against the odds, it became a tragic, yet hopeful, story about the long-tail effects of trauma and how our memories of the past, remembered or misremembered, shape our present.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it

From the 1980s Soviet invasion to the modern day US involvement in the Middle East, the trauma of the conflict had lasting impacts on both the invaded countries, and those who invaded. Talented people, who at peace could have done and produced great things, were reduced to administering corrupt governments, fighting occupying forces and wasting their lives on a fractious peace based on subterfuge and realpolitik.

Robot Mont. Blanc, killed in the opening part of PLUTO acts as the introduction of this theme. A deeply environmentalist robot, who was beloved by mountaineers and children alike, was sent to fight in a war whose values conflicted with his own.

Despite his experiences, he went on to live in his old life - tending to and caring for the Swiss Alps and those who lived within them, but was ultimately killed by a mysterious perpetrator.

This theme is carried through with all the "greatest robots on Earth", who are targeted by PLUTO, and who all are trying to make something of their lives after the end of the conflict, most of whom have managed to shake off the negative experiences of their past - while still being haunted by it.

During the gradual decolonization of the colonial powers of Europe in the Middle East, there existed periods in the Middle East of relative calm and stability. People were able to life affluent, and prosperous lives without the threat of violence and revolution - with collaboration between US, European and USSR workers and those who lived there allowing for the construction of infrastructure and advanced manufacturing facilities.

But what about those who can't deal with their past. What about those who are deeply damaged?

PLUTO - The Greatest Trauma on Earth

MAJOR PLOT SPOILER WARNING

So what is PLUTO? Who is PLUTO? He is nothing more than a robot who loves flowers, created by the Persian scientist Dr Abullah. His love for the plant makes him want to plant flowers across the country, to fill it with beauty and richness. He is someone with hopes, and dreams, to make a beautiful world which can be enjoyed by the people who live there.

At least, that's what he used to be.

As the 39th Central Asian Conflict drags on, Dr Abdullah become bitter and resentful at what has happened to his country. A once proud nation reduced to rubble and ruin. Instead of encouraging his robotic son to plant flowers, he fills his son with a vast hatred against those who have committed violence against his people.

The son who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place is indoctrinated by his father into a being of pure rage, while fully knowing his previous self. The two sides of his personality ripping and tearing at each other in a self-contradictory nightmare.

Just as PLUTO is turned into a loathing monstrosity by his family, upbringing and situation - so too are those who live, fight and die in conflicts. Both the 2023 murder of innocent Israelis by Hamas, and the subsequent murders of innocent Palestinians by Israel have no doubt radicalised a new generation of martyrs, while their leaders - those meant to be inspiring and running the country in their name - directly encourage mass murder on both sides.

In Afghanistan, the hopes of a democratic society were undermined by a corrupt Western imposed system which broke down into Taliban rule in 2022. Collaborators killed or tortured. Women, once again, forced into roles they had broken out of.

But this cuts both ways.

In Afghanistan, both the Soviet invasion of the 1980s and the US/Coalition invasions of the 2000s led to a surge in Western soliders who came home from war angry, disillusioned and in mental and physical pain. Sometime from IED amputations, sometimes from PTSD and severe mental health issues.

Some survived the war, only to transfer their trauma to others at home or to end their own lives at their own hands. A generation of young military lives lost.

The Politics of Hate

Newton's third law states: Each action has an equal, but opposite, reaction. This often occurs socially.

This is ever present in PLUTO with the Anti-robot league. That robots have any rights at all is anathema to these people, who organise a conspiracy to destroy the social fabric of robots in society through targeted assassinations and hatred.

Through their actions, they aim to convert others to their cause and roll back decades of progress in the world of PLUTO.

This occurs in reality just as readily.

The 9/11, 2001 Twin Towers bombings brought together the American people in sorrow, but they also led to the enabling of war.

It didn't matter that Saudi Arabia had allowed Osama Bin Laden to live, and plan, in their country prior to the attacks. It was Afghanistan and Iraq that were targeted on the most spurious of grounds. This was enabled, in part, by swathes of the public who wanted a form of revenge but was mainly supported by neo-cons in government.

The two sides of the coin in Gaza are Hamas, with their backers, and the hard right Israeli government.

Hope

Despite the past, hope and recovery are still possible. This is what the story of North #2 and retired composer Paul Duncan reveals to us. An early inclusion in the manga, it also reveals some of the lighter themes of the work.

Paul Duncan's memories of his childhood, and his perceived Mother's abandonment of him to boarding school and almost terminal illness have coloured his entire life. When we meet him, he is a bitter old man who has a writer's block, and has taken on the ex-military robot North #2 as his butler.

But as the story reveals, Duncan's memories are coloured by his misconceptions of events. As North #2 learns to play the piano, against Duncan's wishes, he reveals the notes of the song that Duncan has been humming from his sleep - a song Duncan's mother used to sing to him as a child. It turns out that Ducan's mother didn't abandon him for a rich husband, but used that husband's wealth to pay for his expensive life-saving treatment and schooling.

It is only by dealing with the past, working through his trauma, that Duncan is able to heal in the present and move on with his life.

Conflict in Northern Ireland existed until the recent past of the late 1990s. This was against a backdrop of centuries of conflict between British settlers and the Irish natives. The Republic of Ireland was created in 1916 - but several Northern Counties remained in British control.

The period between 1916 and the Good Friday Agreement were filled with terrorist action by the IRA against the British Army and the repression of Catholic Irish people in the form of police/army brutality, gerrymandering, discriminatory hiring practices and in other forms.

This was only resolved through dialogue at the highest level between the British Government and Sinn Fein - the political wing of the IRA. It resulted in a peace process which has lasted decades, and has resulted in a generation who can now live, love and work with each other. This required hard decisions, to put past differences and strong emotional ties behind both sides. The results are extraordinary - and offer hope for any conflict.

Conclusions

The best stories I have read take the author's present experience, and insight, and use fiction as a vehicle to explore their themes and ideas. PLUTO takes the historical context of modern world events, and wraps it in an Astro Boy story which tells a story of how trauma, and hate, perpetuate themselves in cycles which come back to haunt and destroy others.

We can learn a lot from such stories. We should learn from them.

It is easy to continue to hate others, and react against clear provocations. It takes courage, bravery and sacrifice to break the cycle and begin anew - to create a new world. A world that Atom represents. A world with a brighter future.

#pluto #pluto manga #pluto anime #pluto spoilers #pluto netflix #naoki urasawa #science fiction #scifi #sci fi #politics #literary Analysis #long reads #long read

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zer0pm · 1 year

Text

Imagine Luis casually claiming that he’s a better shot than you. Not going to take that lying down, you challenge him in the shooting range.

“You certainly know your way around a gun, my friend.”

A short subconscious grunt was given as an acknowledgement, you were too engrossed in cleaning your firearm to fully engage him.

The Spanish man continues with a pensive nod, “One can see that you’ve taken many shots, as well as many lives. You’re a force to be reckoned with for certain.”

“Thanks, Luis.” you reply with nary a hint of interest in the conversation. Was there a point to all of this praise, you wondered but did not want to ask aloud, minding your own business.

“It’s such a shame really,” Luis shrugs, leaning against one of the wooden barrels beside you. He then comments nonchalantly, “Your accuracy leaves much to be desired. Even I could do better.”

The room suddenly falls into silence. Tension hangs by a dainty pin threatening to drop. You were no longer tinkering with your weapon. Leon and Ashley, who were having their own friendly chat on the side, stopped talking to stare at you two intently. Even the Merchant, who possesses a socially animated personality, went completely quiet. The mysterious man who possesses questionably limitless contraband leans far over his table to observe the interaction between you and the cheeky Spaniard with great interest. Or rather, he was interested to see your reaction. The stillness drags on. Then finally, you rise up from your seat. A stony expression hardened on your face as you share eye contact with the dark-haired man beside you.

“Shooting range. Now.”

The elevator ride was just as tense, only the two of you were aboard inside. Leon and Ashley stayed behind for reasons undisclosed, but if you had to take a guess, they didn’t want to see the potential feud between you and Luis escalate in a cramped, underground space. Speaking of Luis. The instigator of this game stood on the opposite side of the shaft from you. He had an infuriatingly smug grin on his lips and a confident, carefree air emanating from his relaxed posture.

Normally, Luis presented himself as an amiable and charming man with a witty sense of humor that bordered on teasing depending on the context provided to him amidst conversation. You haven’t interacted with him as much as Leon or Ashley, too focused on survival to even consider forging any meaningful bonds. The few instances that you have engaged him, the man left a good enough impression for you to tolerate his presence. If you were to truly be honest with yourself, however, you were drawn to him. He had that sort of magnetic personality that you secretly could not get enough of. Your heart flutters whenever he focuses his attention solely on you, whether it be a seductive remark or a teasing joke, he made you forget for a moment of the difficulties you were facing. But you didn’t have it in you to reciprocate out of fear of growing attached what with certain death looming over you all constantly. So instead, you cherished those moments in silence, stealing glances his way every once in awhile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately, this time you’re looking at him for an entirely different reason. Daggers in your eyes pointed straight at the Spaniard. You’ve saved this man against from numerous plaga encounters. He knows what you are capable of. And for him to say that? The nerve.

Luis catches you glaring at him and he shamelessly winks back at you. You scoff and return your attention to your gloved hands, trying not to let this man dig under your skin further than he already has.

The elevators descent comes to a halt and you exit as soon as the doors ping open with Luis following not too far behind. The Merchant was already down at the range even though he was up on the ground level when you took the shaft. At this point, you never questioned the masked man or how he works. Some mysteries are better left unsolved. The real mystery here, however, is Luis’ sudden (and uncalled for) bout of disrespect for your combative skills. He thoughtlessly casted your abilities into doubt in front of your peers and in such a casual manner no less. What else could you do to restore your pride but challenge him and bring him down a peg?

“Welcome, strangers!” The Merchant greets you both jovially once the two of you reached him. “Today, we will be playing a new game. A game of skill and finesse, your patience and speed. Just like any other, really- but with a twist! A competition between two fine patrons of the gunslinging arts!”

“No competition,” you quickly corrected with crossed arms and a deadpan tone. “Just putting someone in their rightful place.”

Luis, who took his spot beside you, merely maintained his easygoing demeanor, not at all bothered by your attitude with him.

“Ooh! Let me guess, is it beneath you? That can be easily arranged. No contest needed.” He chimes in suggestively.

An annoyed grunt escapes your throat, you pinch the bridge of your nose to lessen the irritation bubbling inside. “Get on with it, Merch. Please.”

“That’s the spirit!” the mysterious vendor claps. “Let’s establish the ground rules, then. Firearm of choice?”

The Spaniard waves his hand to you. “You decide, I insist.”

“Such a gentleman,” you roll your eyes. “Pistols. Figured this is fair since you’re only barely capable of handling one type of weapon.”

The dark-haired man pouts exaggeratedly, “Such harsh words for a squire.”

The Merchant ignores him, nodding at your choice, “Pistols it is. Game conditions?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Boredom dripping from your lips, “You figure this out, Serra.”

“So confident, my friend. Very well. Let’s see…” Luis grabs his chin between his fingers, appearing to ponder heavily before lifting one ringed finger.

“Quick fire. One shot per target. Every target will be timed for five seconds. Every rest period in between will last just as long. A penalty will apply for each missed shot. Victor is decided when penalties can no longer be given to either player. Or one admits defeat. Naturally, I’ll decide what these penalties shall be. It’ll be a surprise, just to make things fun.”

Your brow lifts at these terms. With how he delivered them without a single stutter, one would think that he thought about this considerably. They were unusual too and you could not help the gnawing sense of undeniable intrigue and due wariness from showing upon your face. The last part stood out to you as the most interesting of the rules. What sort of penalties were going to be delivered? What does this man have up his sleeve?

The Merchant laughs boisterously in agreement, evidently deeming the terms to be acceptable for the little competition. He turns his head towards you once more. “Any contest?”

With a shake of your head, you confirm with cold confidence, “None. I won’t miss.”

Luis’ grin doesn’t falter at your words. If anything, it only grew wider.

The masked man continues, “And the prize?”

“Ha, easy.” Deadly eyes shoot at Luis with threatening intensity, “You eat your words and…” A pointed finger gestures towards his upper body.

“The jacket is mine.”

A gasp leaves Luis’ throat, genuine surprise glints in his widened eyes. “You’d really strip a knight from his armor?”

It was no secret that the man loved to keep appearances, his jacket being the main focal point to represent his sense of style as well as serving to draw wandering eyes towards the rest of his form. Taking it from him would be a considerable hit to his confidence and it was not at all because you were curious to see how the white button shirt underneath fitted his body.

The memory of defined muscle sneaks into the forefront of your traitorous mind. You once spotted a distinctive scar peeking beneath the fabric and asked about it. Luis, always taking the extra mile, pulled open his jacket and shirt to not only put the colored scar in full display, but the rest of his chiseled upper torso as well. You had to rip your eyes away at the time to hide the blush that was burning quickly on your cheeks, disguising it with a scoff of disgust. Ever since then, however, you couldn’t get the tantalizing sight out of your thoughts.

With a furious shake of your head, you give him an indifferent, level response, “Take it or leave it.”

After a thoughtful moment, the man sighs in consensus. “Alright then. But if I win- you must admit that I’m the better marksman.”

You waited a moment before blinking, “That’s it?”

“Eso es todo, my friend.” Luis nods, “A simple prize, no?”

Without further ado, the competition went underway. After setting aside a pair of handguns and enough ammo to take down an entire country, the Merchant strides out of the range. He also disclosed that the target mechanisms have already been set to Luis’ specific conditions with increased difficulty as the game goes on. Not only this, but the targets are color coordinated to match your respective gun handles. Yours are blue; Luis’, red. Again, you didn’t question how the Merchant achieved this feat in such an impossibly short amount of time.

“Range is set to go. Shooting a target that isn’t yours, missing a target, or taking no shot at all will count as a penalty,” the masked man advised. “Press the button to begin… and have lots of fun, strangers. Ehehehe!” His characteristic cackling echoes off the walls even as the elevator doors closed. Now, it was just you and Luis.

The clicks of a gun cocking brings you back to the present. “Prepárate, my friend.” Luis’ voice is laced with determination as he spoke to you. “It’s game time!”

Without warning, a swift hand slams the button and the first target quickly pops into view. Blue. Frantically, you take aim and fire. Although you weren’t in a readied stance, the bullet pierces through the blue-striped pirate cutout nearly at the edge. The timer nearly hits the last second. A close call.

You whip your head at the Spaniard in exacerbation. “That was dirty!”

His face dons a playful look. “Why so angry, my friend? You were successful, no?”

Your glare sends him running. The timer resets and a red target appears. Compared to you, Luis seemed prepared as he takes his shot and hits the target with ease.

Timer resets, blue. Timer resets, red. It went on like this for a few rounds. The cutouts popped up in random spots at close range only to be shot back down immediately. It was too easy. You use a rest period to reload before the timer resets once more and a red pirate whooshes into view. This one was placed much farther than the rest and was surrounded by multiple sailor cutouts. When the Merchant said that the difficulty would increase over time, you didn’t consider that he would turn the notch by this much. Luis would have to fire at an angle to hit the target and avoid the other obstacles while also being agile enough to hit it before the countdown.

A grimace curves down upon Luis’ lips, he jumps to a spot and lifts the pistol quickly. Ready, aim, fire!

He misses, lead hitting the back of the range with a resonating sound.

A snort almost escapes you and you couldn’t help but taunt him. “What? Feelin’ the heat already, Luis?”

Luis looks at you with the same unwavering smile. “Just warming up, actually. Don’t you worry.”

The man pulls his rings off his fingers and sets them atop the wooden counter. The two of you then switched places and a thought comes to mind. What is his penalty? There’s nothing else on the range that would identify as a scoring system. Perhaps an even harder target to hit? That seems rather punishing. You couldn’t ponder over this any further as your turn came up.

Timer resets. Blue target glides in, sailor cutouts surrounding them as well. This time, however, the angle was easy to spot and you didn’t have to move from your spot to take the shot. It falls back with a satisfying ping upon hit.

“Nice one!” Luis praises. It was genuine, devoid of his characteristic witty drawl. You couldn’t help but mutter a low thanks. Switching spots again, the competition continues. The man manages to find his groove once more and the both of you fell into a good rhythm between shots.

You will not lie, this was kind of fun. Luis truly was a decent shot and seeing him like this, focused and different from his usual suave demeanor that he exhibits like a tattoo on his sleeve, grows within you a newfound form of respect and admiration. He was pulling you to him all over again and he wasn’t even trying.

Timer resets. Red target. More sailors. And they’re all moving! Luis didn’t have the time to follow the pattern of all of their movements and fires blindly. He hits a sailor and mutters a half-hearted curse before proceeding to remove his shoes and socks.

“Luis, what are you doing-”

“No time for any questions. It’s your move.” The man motions you to take your stance and indeed a blue target flies in on the far end. Thankfully it slid about from the ceiling and became an easy shot despite it moving at a fast pace. Your shot lands successfully. As you switch places with Luis again, the gnawing question returns-

What is the penalty?

Luis is the only one that has been missing and nothing seems to have happened. The rounds have gotten harder for certain, but your targets have been set with the same difficulty. How is it shown that he is losing? Again, you didn’t have the time to question it as your turn came up soon enough.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired, it’s a hit.

Timer resets, red target. Shot is fired, it’s a miss.

Luis exhales deeply from his chest. At first, you thought he was frustrated but your ears catch undertones of relief which you could not deduce until you see him unzip his signature jacket and shrug the leather off his shoulders.

“What the hell is this, Luis?”

“Ah this? The penalties for missing. Was it not obvious when I removed my other effects?”

Timer resets, blue target. Nothing.

It dawned on you in full force what this whole game was really all about. You thought it a genuine competition, a battle of egos. However, it became blatantly clear that Luis was shooting on a different range altogether. And he tricked you into playing with him.

You gaped in bewilderment. It was then replaced with embarrassed aggravation. “You’re an idiot. I’m not playing this stupid game. I’m out of here.”

Just as you were about to enter the parlor where the elevator was, Luis speaks up. “You can leave, sure. Pero, you’ll first have to admit that I’m the better marksman.”

Timer resets, red target.

Swiftly you turn back to him, your tone seething with heat. “You’ve missed a few shots while I’ve missed none. What makes you think-”

Bam!

The bullet cleanly hits the moving target from a range that should have required eyes. But the Spaniard was looking at you this whole time, wearing a confident (and infuriating) grin. You were speechless.

“If I remember correctly, you didn’t take the last shot. ¿Sí?”

This man is going to be the end of you one day. But damn was that a good hit. Renewed determination and excitement flows through your body. You take off one glove with your teeth and spit it at the ground before practically shoving the man out of your spot with your now bare hand. You can hear Luis’ cheeky chuckle behind you. Your attitude towards him may have started cold, but it is he who is making you shiver now.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired.

These things were getting harder and harder to hit. Both of you are barely getting along. Luis was doing well enough though. Reduced to just his pants and shirt, he kept up his momentum. You, however, were not faring just as well. Now that you know the real game you were playing, you became undeniably anxious and it showed in your aim. You missed a few shots and had to shed your shoes, socks, remaining glove, and jacket. The only comfort you took from this was that you were relieving yourself from the unbearable heat permeating within the room.

Shot is fired. No hit. Blue target still standing.

Now it was Luis’ turn to taunt. “¿Qué? You missed? Is everything alright, my good friend?”

You ignore him out of spite and tugged at the hem of your top. As you pull the fabric over your head, your ears catch an appreciative whistle nearby. Once your shirt was completely off, you whip your head back to sharply glare at the shameless man who did not hide his appraisal of you. Grey eyes run along the length of your form slowly, lingering upon your newly exposed skin. There was no denying the desire in his eyes. It didn’t leave even as the timer restarted and a red target appeared.

He didn’t take the shot.

It was the perfect opportunity to mock him back, but nothing comes out. In fact, neither of you said anything for the longest time. The only sounds in the range were the pings of the timer and the cardboard targets popping in and out- both effectively ignored and zoned out.

Luis lifts his hands to unbutton his white shirt and throws it atop his jacket. He was bare from his neck down to his waist. Sweat glistened on his well-built chest, the hard muscles of his arms flexing as he stretched. He was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life and he was looking straight at you when you finally found the courage to meet his burning stare. The heavy weight of his grey gaze pressed something deep and carnal within your soul.

After what felt like an eternity, the man picks up his jacket from the ground and moves over to one of the sturdy wooden barrels in the room. He leans against it before facing you once again and speaks in an intimately gruff tone.

“Tú ganas. You win.”

Luis stretches out a strong arm, signature jacket in hand. All you did was stare. Looking back and forth between his rugged face and the fine article of clothing he held.

When you didn’t make a move or say anything, he offers again, “Well? Are you going to claim your prize?”

Time marches on, accompanied by silence. Then finally, the floorboard creaks meaningfully under your stride towards him. Luis’ jacket is smacked out of his hand.

It laid forgotten for a long time.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra imagine #resident evil 4 #if a man twirls into a range like this i would just let him win #why couldn’t they let Luis shoot targets with us 😩#my writing #gender neutral reader #re4 remake #re4 luis #resident evil imagines #zer0pm imagine #long post #this took far too long so I hope it came out okay #will edit as needed #long read #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil x reader

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gz-missfit · 9 months

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So I wanna talk about tazercraft cause their characters are so incredibly interesting to me in the best way possible. To preface this I don't speak a word of Portuguese (I'm learning tho! And have been picking up on sentences a lot more) and my native language isn't English so I may get some things wrong and if I do feel free to correct me!

More under the cut:

I'll put this in 3 separate parts, them individually and then their dynamic!

Mike:

Mike is interesting to me, he's definitely the outward instigator of the 2 when it comes to causing trouble and as many have already pointed out the brains behind a lot of it! He's managed to master the create mod in ways I genuinely never expected them to be used and it's a cute way to say that mine (his wife) was also a cause of that as the goddess of creation. To move to his personality more he's definitely the lead talker in the duo, he's a lot more confident in his voice and speaking in comparison to Pac and can often seem like the lead of the duo, tho this is the cause for people missing his weaknesses! Mike is not a fighter, far from that actually, he freezes in danger and fumbles. His hand tremble when he holds a sword and sees mobs closing in and when big threats appear his whole body turns into ice. He gets overstimulated by danger he couldn't prepare for or was the cause of. Just to name 2 examples here, the first is in the dungeon on the day the timer ran out you could hear him panic, he was a lot more shaky and especially his sword being the cause of injuries to his friends is what made that worse, it went so far that he even typed in chat that he was overwhelmed (fun fact to note is that through all of that he basically vanished from pacs pov but I'll get to that). Another example is when the code showed up to him and pac to drop Richas cow head to them, he later on explicitly state having frozen in fear to i think Fit if i remember correctly and even when ttt was typed in the chat and pac had jumped down to follow Richas to make sure he could teleport Mike was again, nowhere to be seen.

His fear of a fight that revolves around his family and death especially is so interesting to me cause it's obvious that a lot of that comes from Richas first death and how he still blames himself for it, the fear of failing his loved ones again being set deep into his bones whenever a danger for their lives comes up. This is why the prison stream actually was even more interesting to me than I initially expected, because his personality in that sense took a complete 180! Now it's been shown time and time again that Mike has an intense distaste of the federation and hasn't been fond of them for a long time, he's incredibly hostile to them and not scared at all when threatened by them to the point where it's a game for him and he's retaliated with threats that could lead to a ban for him multiple times. Before I move on I think the reason as to why this is is because the federation never showed to kill or take lives, I think that's why Mike has a lot more confidence in confronting them rather than things that have shown to be fatal with all intention of killing. Back to the prison though, Mike's personality to threats definitely took a turn in there, from the moment we saw him he looked pissed beyond believe and his tone was always threatening and almost mocking, his mind quickly was set on getting him and pac out as soon as possible and the realization that Walter Bob, someone who both have seen be the first federation worker that showed them kindness and an interest in what they do after willingly showing up for a haircut is what devastated him. Mike sees Walter as a close friend due to that and it showed because as soon as the realization of Walters long term treatment hit him he did everything to protect the worker he maybe met a handful of times, you could see him get more and more agitated the more the guards hit him and ironically enough I think if Walter hadn't been there idk if he would've killed the guard, but he was so set on finally setting Walter free as well as make sure Pac doesn't have to relive the past they shared that he was willing to do everything to get those 3 out and that all is perfectly encapsulated by his behavior once Walter got taken again, Mike wasn't sad or distraught like Pac was, no, he was fucking fuming to the point where he didn't respond to Pac. Ya know, the person he talks to 24/7 and that's attached to his hip to the point where most of their words are shared telepathically above all. It was obvious that he was angry beyond believe and I'm sure he's got a lot more plans up his sleeve now to get revenge. Cause if there's one thing about Mike it's definitely that you do not want him as your enemy. He may be an outwardly social guy who is definitely more focused on making people laugh and showing off the things he and Pac created but he's still a fugitive and would destroy the world for those he holds dear as they help him feel stronger in the moments where fear does get the better of him.

Pac:

Pac is honestly incredibly fascinating just due to how many levels his character has. He's outwardly the person that appears more shy in comparison to Mike and stumbles as well as gets flustered quick. This has also been the main cause of people seeing him as a weaker player (which also got added onto by how during the earlier days he'd be the one to die a lot) which in turn has caused an interesting dynamic between him and a bunch of the others players because he's far from that. Pac is full on the brawns when it comes to situations that mean fighting for someone's life, his brain goes into focus mode once a life is on the line and there's many examples to show that! Which is why I find it so funny that he often gets handed things due to seeming and behaving weaker than he actually is (main example here being etoiles who not only gave him a custom diamond sword early on which Pac has kept to this day but also the Scythe which he nowadays uses as his only weapon).

Now to the examples of how he can very much carry his own weight In fights and how fascinating it is to watch him, the first big show of him effortlessly carrying himself and doing his best to support others was during the timer dungeon, he was at the front with Bad,Etoiles and Cellbit and even when a lot less geared than those 3 with a weapon that did a lot less damage he didn't go down once even tho he wasn't even holding a totem at any point. It's genuinely impressive with how well he carried himself through that and used movement to attack big groups of mobs from behind only to have vanished out of their sight again before they could corner him. The only time he got truly cornered was at a point where even Etoiles had to back up a little and ended up next to him and the way Pac casually mentioned being fine only to instantly jump at the opportunity of humor through small talk sticks in my brain to this day due to him having stayed mainly silent the whole time before that. The 2 other examples are about Richas and how quick Pac is to defend his son, like I mentioned before when the Code showed up to him, Mike and Richas, Pac instantly jumped into aggressive, he wanted to hit it but fell due to underestimating the jump and as soon as he laid eyes in Richas he became Pacs priority sticking to his sons side until he was Tp'd away and only then returning to the Platform. The same thing happened during the dinner! Every parent except for him crashed when the codes revealed themselves and as much as Richas was quick to start running the speed at which Pac laid eyes on the egg and started to follow right next to him was genuinely mind blowing, he stood at that elevator once Richas left ready to die if it came to it just to make sure one of those things didn't follow him, and as soon as Mike relogged he became Pacs priority with the latter hovering around him will he was loading in.

Now to compare this to the behavior in prison is interesting. Pacs still as good as ever when it comes to putting on a persona to get what he wants but I do believe that the prison brought up a lot of trauma for him, from what I know his time in prison was a lot worse than Mike's and you could hear that through his voice throughout the whole stream. Pacs a physical fighter not a mental one. But in the end he still has that survival instinct, he still knows he needs to get out to protect his family and he doesn't want to be separated from his other half and best friend anymore so he plays sly. The way he stole the keys from the guard genuinely is the most slick maneuver ever and his ability to portrait his behavior in an exaggerated way that makes him seem like no threat at all has worked in his favor multiple times during this too. He was definitely suffering through that whole experience but his determination to protect the ones he loved still slipped through, his hesitancy when he called to the guards not to hit his friends only to have his voice go small once he was physically threatened. He's not at all comfortable when he doesn't have anything to fight back with. Pacs underestimated A LOT, he let's himself be pushed around for bits with a smile and definitely enjoys appearing a bit dumber and less skilled than he is just due to the perks of it and not really caring for bragging about fighting skills when he'd rather show off the project he and Mike have spent time on, only those with a keen eye can see how he's got the heart of a fighter (Etoiles being the first to vocally call this out) he's not weak by any means and definitely a lot smarter than he'd ever admit. He'd die to protect his family and the ones he cares about and would never back down if push came to shove for them.

To sum this all up and not make this too long (which it already is pfff) for both of them together their dynamic is very clearly the "do not separate" but funnily enough Mike is the one who definitely leans onto that more. During each fight where he panicked, got overwhelmed and/or froze he was missing from Pacs pov, they were split apart and it was Mike who was terrified of not being able to hold his own, the same happened in the prison just differently. In the prison Mike definitely put on a cold facade but it broke everytime he asked if they could share the same cell, the underlying fear of him having to fight alone lacing his words through moments like that. This doesn't mean that Pac isn't the same tho! He's just less outwardly vocal about it in comparison and shows it more through actions and looks. It was obvious to hear his distress when he called Mike's name in prison but his constant turning around to see where the other is and his hesitancy to go into areas that implied separation are what showed how hes just as scared as Mike is about loosing the other.

To go more into headcanon and theories I'd like to think of the 2 as 2 hearts and a shared soul, their telepathic communication is borderline Canon at this point and it's obvious that the thought or implications of being separated doesn't sit well at all with either of them. Their bodies and life's are separate but they're still connected by a soul. And whether that's shown through jokes like not being able to be in one spot without the other or through genuine things like Mike having to remind Pac that only he can hear him unless he uses his voice or their ability to flawlessly work around the other is up to interpretation of each viewer in my opinion but there's something to be said about the fact that without the other they'd never had the determination or confidence to get out of that prison, that without the other their weaknesses would show a lot more and end up causing a lot bigger of a struggle than they currently are. Without the other they wouldn't feel whole.

#qsmp #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #character analysis #i think #im trying these 2 are so #genuinely interesting to me #in the best way possible #cause at their core they're still silly guy's #long read #text post #void mumbling

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steveuschrist · 8 months

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Something about Death Island's Intro

I watched Death Island a few nights ago, and something that has stuck with me was how basically all of Leon's information on his file was blacked out in the intro sequence.

Only his name and gender are shown, along with Hunnigan's name at the bottom and some more blocked out things.

It probably is stupid, but I can't help but focus on it. As the audience, we know a lot of things about Leon. We know his past and all of the things that he's been through, so why bother showing a file with a bunch of that information blacked out? Yes, it does serve as a reminder that Leon does a lot of highly-classified and dangerous wok for the DSO, and we can assume that the intro sequence is supposed to "simulate" Dylan researching everybody, but I can't help but feel that there's more to it than that.

To pretty much everyone aside from the other protagonists and maybe Hunnigan, no one really knows what Leon has gone through. At the beginning of Infinite Darkness, Patrick has a really shitty opinion of Leon: "Qualified? More like lucky. The only reason he's the golden boy now is because he was in the wrong place at the right time." Yes Patrick does come around to Leon, but as the new kid with no experience, he already has a preconceived notion that Leon isn't qualified for the job, likely because he's only heard Leon by name and simply as "the guy who saved the president's daughter one time." And while Shenmei quickly comes to Leon's defense, Patrick isn't yet convinced. Why?

Because the DSO simply treats Leon as an asset to be used and not a human being. Patrick hasn't even met him yet and just assumes that Leon never worked for his position before he's even met the guy. Again, this changes over the course of Infinite Darkness and Patrick ends up really respecting Leon after he sees who he really is.

In Death Island when Leon, Claire, and Chris have been infected, we hear Dylan's big plan and him essentially calling all of them out: "The huge corporations and the corrupt execs that run them, the ones getting big, fat bonuses for maintaining the status quo, that’s who you work for, who you really protect. And the innocent will continue to suffer as long as you do."

As he says that, they cut to a shot of Leon. It's hard to tell exactly what Leon's reaction is because he is fighting the infection from the virus, but there's no snappy comeback, no joke, no quip. Dylan drops the bombshell: "You’re nothing more than pawns, suckers." On the word "pawns," the shot cuts to Chris, who also is dealing with his exposure to the virus, and then Jill, who just readjusts her hold on her gun.

This takes us back to the intro sequence, the agent ID was "pawns:"

Literally in being agents, Jill, Chris, Leon, and Claire are pawns. That's how their organizations see them, not as individuals, but as assets. But again, there's a deeper layer with Leon on top of this as I've seen others online point out, in the actual marketing of Death Island:

"One of the government's most formidable weapons." Not agents, weapons. They see him as an asset, a thing, to be used in their "fight" against bioterrorism. The kicker comes back to the intro sequence and Leon's file is shown:

In a sea of what we can assume to be DSO agents, Leon is shown, with the word "pawn" in big letters. The word doesn't actually finish being written out fully, but based on the spacing of PAW, we can assume that there isn't space for both N and S in the remaining box. The N would simply go over Leon's face and there would be some leftover space in the box (yes it wouldn't fit 100%, but the animators worked really hard on this movie and with how fast the shot is, you really have to analyze it to notice that it would look off!).

So yes, while Dylan is trying to say that all of them are pawns, Leon is the pawn. Patrick says as much in Infinite Darkness, calling Leon the golden boy of the government. Even at the end of Infinite Darkness (which takes place before 6), Leon doesn't let Claire make a copy of the drive with all of the information that will basically expose the US government for its hand in what happened at Raccoon City. Before she walks away, she gives him one final look and says: "Like I said before, that outfit doesn't suit you." Of course she literally is talking about the fact that Leon is wearing a very bureaucratic-looking suit, but she also is referring to what the suit symbolizes. She knows that Leon has a good heart and wants to do the right thing, but she's also frustrated with his actions and him, probably unconsciously, falling further and further in-line with what the government wants. She probably knows that he's "in deep" at this point and is just trying to basically stay alive, but she also is frustrated that he's not taking the path that would basically lead to a way out. It's also worth noting that Eiichirō Hasumi, who directed Infinite Darkness, also directed Death Island.

I'm not sure exactly where I was going with this post, I just wanted to share my thoughts about Leon and where he's headed next. I hope that the next movie (or game!) will feature him and be about him coming to terms with the fact that he can choose to do the right thing and that he doesn't need to just be a pawn anymore. He deserves that and so much more. Thanks for reading!

#resident evil #death island #resident evil death island #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #character analysis #steve's stupidity #analyzing him bc i love him and he deserves the world #this took me way too long to make #kids use your time wisely #long post #long read #text post #long text #i am so sorry #no one should read something this long lmao

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thislovintime · 4 months

Photo

Photo 1 from the Reelin’ In The Years Photo Archive, photographer unnamed; photo 3 by Ken McKay/Shutterstock.

Remembering Michael and Davy on their birthdays.

“The man was unique and a huge, huge talent. We’re not going to replace him. […] [Davy] was such a little heartthrob. I don’t think people knew how bright and talented and gifted he was in all things. I’ve come to believe he was, in his own way, the smartest, most musically talented and best actor among us.” - Peter Tork, Boston Globe, May 16, 2013

“Mike and I have been back and forth with the emails […] I bore him no ill-will. I have a lot of respect and admiration and some affection for Mike. And I’m glad to be back in touch with him.” - Peter Tork, interview with Iain Lee, 2012

Q: “I’m curious about the various reunions that happened over the years. Is it safe to say that you guys were never really friends?” Peter Tork: “Oh, I don’t know. I would say I was pretty good friends with Micky, and there was a lot of love between me and Davy. I have a lot of respect for Mike Nesmith and we’ve structured ways to work together. Things rotate. It’s like having a basketball team. You know, gosh, it’s like having a championship basketball team. They go on the road every so often and do tours, you know, just exhibition tours but fortunately your music skills don’t deteriorate as fast as your basketball skills do, but I wouldn’t know what else to compare it to. We had a chance to go out together and we took it, and we had a great time, and if we were not friends at all we would not have been able to do it. We played tours months and months long: ‘86, ‘87, ‘89, ‘91, ‘92, ‘96, ‘97, 2001, 2002 and 2011, so we couldn’t have been such enemies.” - Phawker, circa 2012; re-published 2019

“[Micky] and Mike and I have a very cordial relationship and share a lot of common topics. We go to lunch together when we’re all in town and have a good time. I love and respect each of these guys in their own way, although the real joys that I shared with Davy were special. At one point we had some good hard connections but as the years rolled on, those things faded away. But I am sorry to see Davy go. He was the one member in the group that I had the strongest human connection with. I still have two guys that I love and respect left from the band, but we share a different dynamic.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag, May 27, 2016

“Well, I’ve never been really close with Michael [Nesmith] for some reason. You know, I have a lot of respect for him and admiration. But somehow we’ve never integrated. We’ve never been warm with each other. We worked together and did pretty well at it really. But Micky on the other hand, I enjoy hugely. We have some very good times together. We laugh a lot. We pay attention to what each other is doing on stage and so there’s communication there. Micky’s always been a lot of fun. Who I miss is Davy of course. Davy is the guy who…I’ve always said I loved, liked and respected [the band members] in different proportions but Davy actually kinda got my heart.” - Peter Tork, Clevescene, March 13, 2017

#Michael Nesmith #Davy Jones #Peter Tork #Tork quotes #The Monkees #Monkees #Peter and Michael #Peter and Davy #Head (1968)#long read #Micky Dolenz #Peter and Micky #Capricorn and Jones birthday remembrance #Happy Capricorn and Jones Day #can you queue it

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welcometowhore-rrorville · 10 months

Text

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Featuring: Michael Myers

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, thriller and violent themes throughout, nsfw near the end, smut, everyone is 18+, attempted murder, the usual slasher stuff, questionable consent (both parties into it but also you probably shouldn’t be getting it on with a killer), swearing, probably ooc but I tried, proof-read and edited but I make mistakes so lmk

You hated to be out by yourself this late at night, but you supposed it wasn’t all bad. Despite the chill in the air, the weather was nice, and the stars against the black sky illuminated your view as your shoes clicked on the sidewalk. You promised your friend Laurie you’d swing by during her babysitting tonight to keep her company, and so that’s where you headed.

You glanced down at your outfit, pulling on the black dress to cover more of your thighs, black tights doing next to doing to keep out the wind. You weren’t cold as much as you felt exposed, and you wished you’d been smart enough to stop by your house after the Halloween party to change. It was too late for that now, you thought, scratching behind your ear where the cat ear headband dug into your head.

You grabbed your satchel which hung at your side, strap thrown around your shoulder. It held nothing more than a few snacks and your favorite board game, but you figured it would be enough to entertain the two of you until the child’s parents got back home.

Despite being older than her—about to graduate in the spring, you two grew up together, and you weren’t about to leave your friend to suffer through a boring babysitting job alone. Sure, one of Laurie’s friend’s was a few houses down, but you doubted she would be coming over when she had other plans that night.

You rolled your eyes thinking about it, and scoffed. She was a pretty shitty babysitter, in all honesty, but you supposed it wasn’t your kids.

You continued down the darkened path forward, occasionally stopping in the glow of a streetlight. Being Halloween, you expected the odd-ball teenager running around to get a kick out of scaring people, and so kept a close watch on your surroundings. You didn’t want to deal with anything tonight except maybe losing at checkers, but that was far better than getting spooked by some freak.

At that thought, you rummaged around in your bag, opening it just enough to peer at the small switchblade nestled in the inside pocket. It wasn’t much, but you didn’t expect to use it in the first place.

You laughed at your own paranoia, instead picking up your pace. You could see your destination, and it didn’t take long before you lingered outside the door.

You glanced behind you, spotting the house Annie was supposed to be babysitting in. You didn’t see any lights on, which you thought was odd, but figured she might’ve turned in for the night. You also took note of the van parked in the front. You vaguely recognized it, but you didn’t dwell on it, instead turning to where Laurie now stood, door open as she welcomed you inside.

“Happy Halloween,” you half-joked, pulling her into a half hug as you stepped inside. You spotted two kids sitting on the couch just inside the living room, a movie lighting up their faces as they watched. “I thought there was only one?”

“There was,” Laurie replied, shutting the door behind the two of you. “Then Annie happened.”

You scoffed, unsurprised.

Walking into the living room, you waved at the two children, grabbing a bag of chocolate from your bag before tossing it to the pair. The boy caught it excitedly. “Happy Halloween, kiddos.”

“They’ve already had too much popcorn,” Laurie commented, but you shrugged.

“Never such a thing as too many treats this time of year. Here—” you threw her favorite candy at her before setting your bag down on the coffee table. “Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Laurie smiled softly. You knew she’d been spooked all day today, which is part of the reason you forced yourself to come over despite your aching feet. Speaking of which, you slipped out of your heels, setting them back in the entry-way before following Laurie to the kitchen. “Don’t steal my stash while I’m gone, ya?” you said, gesturing to the bag as you left. The kids looked at each other before looking at your satchel. You had a feeling it would be empty come time to leave. Still, you didn’t care too much, watching as Laurie stopped at the kitchen island.

She set her bag of candy on the counter, next to which sat a half-carved pumpkin.

“They abandon you?” you questioned, poking your finger through the jack-o-lantern’s singular eye hole. “Or were you going for something abstract?”

“We’ve been trying to carve it off-and-on all night,” she replied, picking up the knife which resided half-way inside the pumpkin and giving the orange squash another stab. “But the kids keep getting spooked.”

“Seems like that’s contagious,” you said, popping open the fridge to grab a soda. “Ever get over your boogie-man scare from earlier?”

“I really did see someone,” she replied, gesturing at you with the knife before making the final cut on the second eye. “It was creepy. He wore a white mask and a jumpsuit and just. . . stared at me.”

“It’s Halloween, Laurie.” you ruffled her hair gently. “Know how many people that fit that description I’ve seen today? Too many to count. I’m not saying you didn’t see someone, but it was probably some dick trying to get a scare. And it looks like it worked.”

She sighed, fixing her hair with one hand as she set the knife down on the counter with the other. “I know. I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

You pulled her into another side hug, giving her newly fixed hair another pat. You knew she got annoyed whenever you acted like a big sister, but couldn’t hold back a snort as she shot you a half-hearted glare. You leaned against the doorway, sipping on your soda. “You know I’ll be here if something does happen. I packed a switchblade and everything.”

“You’re a life-saver,” Laurie mused, laughing. “If they need to open a tin can we’ll be all set.”

“Whatever, just go sit down and take a break. I’ll finish carving this thing for you.” You set the soda on the counter, replacing it with the knife as you sliced through the pumpkin. Laurie looked too tired to argue, grabbing her candy and heading back into the living room.

“Don’t do anything scary, okay? It may be Halloween but it’s for the kids.”

You waved her comment off, already jabbing back and forth, trying to shape a pair of fangs and a large open mouth.

That’s how the house stayed for the next few minutes, you in the kitchen getting pumpkin guts and juice on your dress as they continued watching t.v. It wasn’t until one of the kids spoke up that you paused your actions, raising a brow at his comment.

“Laurie, I saw someone outside.”

You still held the knife, letting it hang in your hand as you ventured into the living space. “Was it this boogie-man you all keep talking about?”

The boy nodded.

You let out a sigh. “Alright. That’s it. You all stay here. I’ll go check it out.”

“What? Alone?” Laurie asked, standing from the couch. You slid your shoes on, knife now clutched solidly in your hand as you headed to the door.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. Besides, you have to baby-sit. I’ll just go yell at whoever douche is doing this and get this whole thing done-and-over-with.”

Laurie sighed but knew better to argue, instead following you to the door as you stepped outside. “I’ll lock it behind you. Be safe, okay?”

You smirked, rolling your eyes. With that, you stepped off the porch, eyes adjusting to the dark neighborhood. You didn’t immediately see anyone, and so continued walking, heading into the street, nimble on your feet—well, as nimble as you could be in your kitten heels. It might’ve been better to go out bare-foot, but it was too late now.

You scanned the darkness, examining every hedge and tree in an attempt to spot someone behind it. You had no luck, and so decided to cross the street completely, now closing in on Annie’s location.

You thought about knocking to see if anyone was still up, but decided against it. You didn’t want to know what they were doing if they were still up, and especially didn’t want to interrupt it.

The barely audible crunch of a leaf brought your attention to your right, and you stared intently at a particularly large tree looming in a nearby yard. Already sick of whoever this was, you called out to them.

“Hey. I know you’re there. Can you just—leave me and my friend alone, hmm? I get it’s Halloween and all, but it’s too late for tricks.”

There was no response, nor any movement.

You pursed your lips. “Okay, then,” you mused, heels crunching on the grass as you headed to the tree. “I’ll come get you myself.”

As you walked closer, you still spotted nobody. You gripped the knife, making sure it was poised and ready in your hand. You had no intention of stabbing anyone tonight, but a little scare should give them the picture to leave.

You finally stopped arms-length away from the massive oak. You gave a knock on the thick trunk. No reaction.

You clenched your jaw, knees bent as you prepared to race around to catch the stranger by surprise. Just before you moved, however, footsteps sounded behind you, and you whirled around and jumped back just in time to avoid a knife to the back.

Your eyes widened. It was just as Laurie described, a tall man, definitely built enough to do some damage, wearing a stained black jumpsuit. A white mask covered his face, revealing nothing but eye holes. You stared at the molded rubber costume, peering into the two black voids, the kitchen knife squeezed so tight in your hand your knuckles hurt. You saw no reflection of eyes, nor skin, just darkness.

Strangely, he made no move to strike again, just staring, well, you assumed he was staring, directly at you. His stance was eerily calm and collected for someone who just tried to kill you. It was like he was waiting for you to make the first move.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and three decisions flashed in your mind. Fight. Flight. Freeze. You were already frozen, but so was he. Flight? You had no idea how fast he could run, or where you would go. You weren’t about to lead a mad-man back to Laurie and the kids. That left only one option.

You weren’t the most athletic, nor the fastest, but left with no option, you made your decision.

Taking in one last breath, you darted to the side, using the tree trunk for cover and narrowly avoiding another attempted stabbing.

You raced around the tree, popping out where the man once stood with your knife above you, elbow bent and prepared to lunge.

He had vanished from his spot, and you quickly darted away from the tree entirely, wanting to have a clear view of all of your surroundings. The closest cover he could’ve taken was inside the house Annie resided in, and judging by the now-open door, you were correct in your guess.

You grit your teeth. Now was your chance to flee and get help, but you had a sinking feeling the police wouldn’t get here in time to be of any real help.

Suddenly spurred forward by your own urge to confront the man trying to kill you, you walked towards the open door.

Your knife never left your vision, and you held it just far enough away to deal a strike without having it ripped from your grasp.

The door swayed gently in the breeze, knocking against the doorway. You stepped inside quickly, shutting the door behind you.

The inside was dark, as you gathered from looking at the outside of the house, and you struggled to maintain your senses. Still, you knew idling for too long meant death, and so crept forward as quietly as possible despite your unreasonable shoes.

The house was quiet enough to tell you one thing—either Annie and her friends were all fast asleep, or. . .

You took extra caution coming to a doorway, and decided to swing first and ask questions later, but your knife hit nothing, and so you stepped forward. There was nothing but an empty kitchen.

You found the same for the entire downstairs, and so decided there was only one other option.

You made your way to the staircase, gripping the railing. Slowly, you stepped upwards one stair at a time. This house was a stranger’s, and you had no idea what the lay out was. Still, you knew one thing. Your boogie-man was upstairs, and you were going to confront him there.

You took a deep breath, steadying your shaking body once you made it just below the second floor landing.

You quieted yourself, trying desperately to listen for some sort of clue to unravel his location. You heard nothing, and figured he’d hidden away in some corner just waiting for you to come out.

Having no choice, you stepped upwards, swiveling to take in your surroundings. You started with the door closest to you, and used the tip of the knife to slowly push it open. You spotted nothing, but the room was dark. There was no way to tell if he was inside without going in.

You glanced back down the stairs. Should you retreat? It wasn’t too late to scramble out the door and scream for help. You clenched your fists.

A feeling deep inside your stomach wouldn’t let you, and so you pushed into the room. You squinted your eyes. It was a bathroom by the looks of it, and the only light was coming from the window clear across the hallway.

Stepping a foot into the small room, you swiveled your head around, making sure there was nowhere to hide.

Everything was clear, save for the shower. The curtain was pulled fully closed. You grit your teeth so hard your temples burned. Your feet slid cautiously, and the tip of your knife blade tapped the edge of the curtain. With a harsh push, you slammed the curtain open.

Nobody.

You let out a sigh.

You swiveled back on your heels, only to let out a breathless gasp. He had you cornered, tall frame blocking your only way out of the bathroom. You had to think fast, and so did the only thing that came to mind.

You lunged to the side, grabbing a towel hanging on a hook before tossing it towards him. Not wasting a second, you charged forward, knife cradled against your chest to prevent stabbing yourself. Your body collided harshly with his, and you heard the clatter of metal on tile as you both fell to the ground, towel lodged between your bodies.

You landed on top, but before you had the chance to raise your knife, the towel was thrust back in your face, and you stumbled to the side, leaving him to get the upper hand.

Your body was pressed harshly into the floor, and the knife you had was ripped out of your grasp and thrown, landing with a thump a few feet away.

You breathed heavily, the weight of him straddling your hips taking the breath out of you. His hands wasted no time wrapping around your neck, cutting off your airway.

You wheezed and gasped, bucking around and clawing at the large hands which choked you, but you knew he had you beat. There was no use trying to wrangle his hands away, so you needed a different plan, and fast.

You looked anxiously around, eyes flittering around the darkened hallway. Both knives were too far away to reach, and you had nothing else to defend yourself with. You tried to maneuver out from under him, but he had his full weight atop you, staring at you from behind his white mask.

Your lungs were burning, and you were running out of energy to struggle. Your gaze met his, and the window behind you let in just enough light to highlight the eyes behind the lifeless facade. You stared, hands still clawing at his own, becoming more and more panicked as black spots clouded your vision.

Desperately, you moved from grabbing your neck to his, and slid your fingers underneath the mask, ripping it upwards and off.

Seemingly panicked, he released his grip, reaching hurriedly to return his mask back on his head, though you had already thrown it to the side, leaving it in a heap a few steps down the staircase.

You couldn’t find the energy to move, and so only stared, taking in his face as he stood from your wheezing body. With a speed you hadn’t seen him move with, he crouched over and grabbed his mask, fitting it back onto his head before turning around.

You had only seen his face for a second, but what you saw surprised you. It was a man—a young one at that, with sharp features and curly brown hair that fell over his forehead slightly. You expected the face of a seasoned killer, not someone who could’ve been in college.

Still, you had no time to dwell, as he was already stepping back towards your fallen body. Taking in a deep breath as air once again filled your lungs, you scrambled to your hands and knees, racing forward to grab the blade which glistened under the moonlight. You gripped it firmly, and rolled onto your back just as he struck with his own weapon picked up from the bathroom floor.

It dug into the floor just beside you, and you hurled yourself up and onto your feet, scrambling back down the stairs before he could strike again.

Half-running-half-falling, you made it down the stairs, rushing to head into the kitchen. You breathed heavily, your whole body aching as you leaned against the kitchen counter. You saw a door leading to the back, and began slowly moving towards it, all the while keeping your eyes glued to the entrance. He would come, and when he did. . .

You had no idea. You had no clue what you would do once you ran out the door. You didn’t know what you could do or how it would end. Something in you shattered at that. Why were you fighting something so hard when you knew there was only one fate in store for you this evening?

You released the death-grip on the kitchen blade, letting it fall onto the counter. With a sigh, you bent over, taking your shoes off as you relished in the feeling of your heels flat on the floor. You reached up, finally taking off your headband, and placed that beside the discarded weapon.

You then walked over to the fridge, popping it open to see just what you were looking for—your favorite soda.

You popped it open, taking a long sip as the carbonated liquid cooled your dry and hoarse throat.

Deciding that you couldn’t bear to stand any longer, you popped onto the counter, legs dangling as you sat against the upper cabinets.

You continued sipping on your drink, eyes on the entryway. It felt like hours before you finally saw him appear, knife in hand as he stared from in the doorway. You gave a sarcastic smile, waving. You held out your arm. “Care for a drink before you kill me?”

He did nothing. You weren’t surprised. “Not a talker, huh?” You shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t really matter.” You finished off your drink, setting it on the counter with a clank. “Too late to call it a draw?”

Still no response.

You frowned, crossing your legs. “Well, I suppose you should get this whole thing over with. That’s what you want right, to kill me? Well, do it already. Unless you want to wait for me to finish another soda.”

At your words, he stepped forwards, but still not close enough to reach you. He seemed. . . confused at your sudden personality shift. You were confused too, but you supposed shock did crazy things to people. Your heart still beat wildly, and your hands shook, but there was an acceptance that buried itself in you that you couldn’t get rid of. You were going to die, you decided, and that’s just how it had to be.

You let out a sigh, hopping off the counter daintily. Your bare feet hit the floor, and in a few steps you stood directly in front of him. You looked at the knife in his hand, still hanging at his side, before staring at him. “I didn’t think I’d go out this way,” you confessed. “It’s a shame, really. Though I guess it’s not so bad. . . at least you’re handsome. Takes a whole new meaning to to-die-for, huh?”

The slightest tilt of his head betrayed his emotion. He didn’t. . . understand you. One minute you were just like all the others, but now?

He raised the knife slowly, so slowly that you could stare at your own reflection in it, watching yourself blink as sweat dripped down your face. You thought about closing your eyes, but decided against it.

You watched as the blade tip tapped just barely against your sternum, dragging down almost teasingly. Still, you made no move to run. No move to scream or rip his mask off again. You just. . . stared.

The blade pressed harder against your skin, and you winced when it finally broke the skin, but not anywhere near enough to kill you—hell, not enough to even hurt you. The blood dropped slowly down from your upper chest, rivulets of the dark substance nestling between your breasts, just below your dress’s neckline. The knife began to move once more, lifting up from your skin only to nestle just below your chin, pressing against your neck.

You made no move to stop him, still looking into his own black gaze. Again, he pressed his blade in, but only enough to tilt your head up, leaving you to stare at the ceiling. Did he. . . not like you looking at him? Was he, your killer, seriously uncomfortable with you looking at him as he killed you?

You grit your teeth, and despite the pain, brought your chin down again to watch him. You heard a low exhale behind the mask.

The blade slid from your neck, trailing along your collar-bone before it hit the spaghetti strap of your dress and bra. You felt a pull as the blade slipped beneath the strips of fabric, pulling them upwards until they sliced apart. Your shoulder was left bare, and soon the same could be said for your other one.

You didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. Any words lodged themselves in your throat, unable to come out. You felt choked again, but this time by your own will.

Your hands begane to fiddle with the bottom of your dress, picking it up and down as you messed with the fabric. He took note of this action, knife trailing back over your sternum before slowly, agonizingly slowly, tracing down your middle. The blade tip was cool against your flushed skin, sliding between the curves of your breasts and right over your navel. It stopped just below your dress line.

You continued your eye contact with the man, though it was a struggle as the blade began to cut through the thin fabric of your tights. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling as the sharp edge crept further upwards, slicing the black mesh as it did so. As he cut, the blunt top edge of the knife raised your dress, and he didn’t cease until it was up to your hip and your underwear, only now half covered by tights, was on display.

Your mind was racing—was this all part of his m.o.? Teasing before murder? No. He had just tried to kill you multiple times brutally and quickly, so what was this? It must’ve been unplanned. New. Just as foreign to him as it was to you. You weren’t sure if being a guinea pig to his fantasies was better or worse than choking to death. You supposed you were going to find out.

The blade skirted across your hips, leaving a stinging sensation as it went. He continued until reaching your other side, then you noticed his other hand begin to move. A large hand rested on your hip, slowly trailing upwards, past your heaving chest, until it stopped at your bare shoulder. Gripping it tightly, he turned you to face away from him, and at last you broke eye contact.

You held your breath as all touch on your body was lost, and you remained stiff and quiet, tattered clothes revealing the goosebumps lining your skin. Was this it? Was it time?

From your peripheral you saw a hand come into view, knife shining in his grip. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood when the tip came to rest just above your navel, pushing in harder and harder until you were forced to stumble backwards.

Your back hit his chest, and you didn’t have time to regain your balance before his other hand wrapped around your throat. His muffled breath was at your ear, and you could spot his mask just barely in your view, hovering above your shoulder.

HIs fingers began to squeeze, but not hard enough to kill, only enough to have you wheezing and gasping for a full breath. You had no choice but to writhe against his solid frame, the knife in front of you still taunting you.

Tears pricked at your eyes, upping your panic. Your hands finally unfroze, leaving you to reach up and try to pry his fingers from your throat. At your action, the knife in front of you pressed against your stomach harshly, and you let out a weak moan as your skin sliced open. Blood stained your dress, quickly seeping below the fabric to drip down your exposed pelvis.

Sensing his anger at your attempt to free yourself, your hands dropped back down, balling into fists.

The grip loosened slightly, and though still confining, you were able to take a solid breath, letting the air fill your lungs as your chest rose and fell.

You were stuck, pinned against him as a knife toyed with your stomach and hands clenched and unclenched against your aching neck.

“Please. . .” you whimpered, exhausted. You didn’t care what he did, as long as he got it over with.

Your body slumped against his, head resting against his upper chest. His hand still around your throat prevented you from leaning fully, but your form was like a rag doll in his grasp.

“Do whatever you want. . .” you continued, trailing off. Your hands moved to your stomach, clutching your wound. You noticed the knife had retreated back behind you. Did this mean he had his fun? It was done? Hardly.

You heard the clatter of the blade on the nearby countertop as he pushed you roughly forwards, not stopping until you were pinned against the countertop, your wound pressed deeply against the sharp edge. You whimpered at the feeling, hands coming out on either side of you to press yourself backwards, but he had already taken his place directly behind you, locking you in place.

You could only listen, heavy breathing coming from behind you as his body pressed against yours.

In any other situation, the feeling of a solid chest pressing into your back paired with hands now curiously trailing over your body would have you begging for more, but in this situation. . . ? You weren’t sure. . .

Was he trying to get at something? Get at you? Get with you?

Your stomach clenched.

Despite everything he’d done to you, your mind wandered back to his face behind the mask, his stature, his strong build and large hands. . .

No. No. No. No. No.

You resisted the urge to shake your head.

You might’ve had an odd taste in men, but this? THIS?

Still, you pressed your thighs tightly against each other, knees suddenly weak. Blood loss. It must’ve been blood loss that had your mind acting like this. There was no other explanation for the warmth pooling in your abdomen.

You weren’t getting hot and bothered by the man that had just tried to kill you. . . it wasn’t like his hands, both of which were now wedging themselves under your dress, were impacting you at all. . . right?

You let out a hiss of surprise when a knee shoved your legs apart, the solid mass preventing your bashfulness. Your breath hitched as he brought his leg upwards, leaving you to struggle on your toe tips to prevent the rough cloth from brushing against your sex.

Seemingly noticing your sudden change of breathing, he moved a hand to your navel, sliding his long digits downwards until he found the band of your tights and underwear.

Your eyes widened when he continued downwards, wiggling underneath your bottoms to ghost against your pubic bone.

It was obvious this whole experience was exciting him, judging by his heavy breathing and the newfound object poking against your backside.

Still, you couldn’t talk, being that your panties were considerably wetter than they were a few minutes ago. It was laughable—what kind of enemies-to-lovers story was this? But, you supposed you enjoyed this more than the other option. A lot more, you corrected yourself as a finger brushed against your clit.

You let out a breath. You didn’t have to say anything. It was obvious he’d found something you enjoyed.

A rough pad swirled against your sensitive clit, the sensation choking a near silent moan from your lips. You couldn’t believe yourself, repulsed at what you found yourself doing, and yet had no intention of doing anything besides leaning further into his touch.

Your hands rested firmly against the countertops now, abdomen bent forward—leaving you to stare at your distorted reflection on the surface of an abandoned tea kettle. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, and stains of blood splattered your body. Your eyes moved from staring at yourself to the masked killer behind you. He was bent over you, still trailing up and down your folds and rubbing your clit with large yet nimble fingers. His other hand was now on your chest, diving beneath your falling neckline to grope your breasts—still stained with your blood.

You shivered when the touch of his mask hit the side of your neck. It was like he wanted to kiss you, mark you, something, but the rubber prevented it.

Still, the point was made, and you tilted your neck to the side, allowing greater access.

His fingers toying with your cunt built a knot in your stomach, and you knew you were close, panting as that familiar sensation filled you. Like you were on the precipice of a cliff, you waited with baited breath, your hips grinding as best as you could to finally push you over.

A digit found your entrance, and pushed in harshly, quick enough to jerk you upwards. A surprised cry left your lips, only to be cut off as your breath hitched. Vigorously, rhythmically, like a machine, his finger pumped in and out of you, quickly being joined by another.

You clenched your mouth shut, knowing the lewd noises you would make otherwise. Seemingly taking note of how quiet you’d gotten, he gripped your breast tightly, nails digging into your skin. Giving up on your short vow of silence, you let another groan leave you, your hands reaching behind your head to push his neck further against your skin. You wanted more. You needed more. You were so close. . . so fucking close. . .

All movement was ceased. A figure stood in the doorway of the kitchen. You didn’t recognize the man, at least from what you could see in your tea kettle mirror, but you noted the way the killer turned to stare at the older man.

“Michael,” the intruder gasped, clutching a small handgun. “Let the woman go.”

The two stared at each other, and you could feel the tension pulsing from underneath the slasher’s jumpsuit. Obviously, they knew each other, and obviously, your late night lover had a bone to pick with him.

His fingers were still inside you, the other hand clawed around your breast. You let out a whimper, your hands wrapping around your exposed midsection.

“Myers,” the stranger spoke again. “Leave this place. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, his touch receded from your skin. Michael, you learned your culprit’s name was, returned to his full height, turning to face the older man menacingly. With agitated steps, he walked forwards, grabbing the abandoned knife off the counter. The man stepped back a few paces, placing his gun back in his jacket pocket before quickly rushing to your side as soon as Michael was far enough away.

You blocked out the man’s words of reassurance, only staring at the pale masked man, his own eyes staring back for just a moment, before he turned and walked back into the darkened house. You heard the opening of a door, and just like that, he was gone.

“Michael Myers let you live,” whispered the man. He stood, staring at the empty doorway. “I fear for what his plans with you are, dear.”

You swallowed harshly. Whatever they were, you were sure you’d be seeing him again soon. You had a feeling he was far from done with you. Your stomach clenched, and you gently pulled your dress back down to your thighs. A part of you couldn’t wait until that day came.

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