#Background workplace security

[privateinvestigatorsuniverse]

How Do Background Checks In Australia Help To Promote Workplace Security

The workplace must be safe, and it’s the topmost concern for employers and employees. Therefore, it needs to be secured to ensure that the productivity of the employees is at its top notch. Thus, to gain that trust, employers need to ensure that the background check is properly conducted. That’s why they rely on hiring background check Australia professionals. So, let’s get straight into some details about how the background screening is actually done.

Putting the threats at bay and creating a peaceful workplace

Background checks help in recognising potential danger, such as any sign of violence or criminal activity. They carry out some detailed screening in assistance with the Police to ensure that the hired employee isn’t a threat to other colleagues. If he or she is considered a threat, then they immediately inform the employers to take appropriate measures.

Background screening for detecting the misinterpretation

At times , employees do present wrong details about the employment history, skills and qualifications. Now, that actually puts the present company’s status and safety at stake. In order to avoid all such dilemmas and hazards, the experts bank on background checks in Australia who have the specialisation to deal with different industrial sectors. Thus, they do validate the employee’s credentials and work history. Also, employees should be ensured they have the proper job certification.

Working in compliance with the regulations of the industry

The background check Australia experts follow the investigation mandates quite seriously. They follow the regulatory and safety standards to the tee. For example while working on juvenile cases they ensure that they are handled sensitively.

Final say Thus, ensure that the background checks promote workplace security and safety. Also gain reliance and responsibility. Therefore contact the criminal background check experts who can literally help you get rid of scammers and keep up the reputation.

[porterdavis]

I'm going to post the entire dispatch in hopes more people will read it. It's a stylized version of how US media would cover events in America if they were happening in a foreign country. Chilling.

(Written by Garrett Graff)

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Musk Junta Seizes Key Governmental Offices February 1, 2025 By William Boot

WASHINGTON, D.C. — What started Thursday as a political purge of the internal security services accelerated Friday into a full-blown coup, as elite technical units aligned with media oligarch Elon Musk moved to seize key systems at the national treasury, block outside access to federal personnel records, and take offline governmental communication networks.

With rapidity that has stunned even longtime political observers, forces loyal to Musk’s junta have established him as the all-but undisputed unelected head of government in just a matter of days, unwinding the longtime democracy’s constitutional system and its proud nearly 250-year-old tradition of the rule of law. Having secured themselves in key ministries and in a building adjacent to the presidential office complex, Musk’s forces have begun issuing directives to civil service workers and forcing the resignation of officials deemed insufficiently loyal, like the head of the country’s aviation authority.

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The G-7 country’s newly installed president, a mid-level oligarch named Donald Trump, appeared amid Musk’s moves to be increasingly merely a figurehead head of state. Trump is a convicted felon with a long record of family corruption and returned in power in late January after a four-year interlude promising retribution and retaliation against foreign opponents and a domestic “Deep State.” He had been charged with attempting to overthrow the peaceful transition of power that had previously removed him from office in 2021, but loyalist elements in the judiciary successfully blocked his prosecution and incarceration, easing his return to power.

Over the last two weeks, loyalist presidential factions and Musk-backed teams have launched sweeping, illegal Stalin-esque purges of the national police forces and prosecutors, as well as offices known as inspectors-general, who are typically responsible for investigating government corruption. While official numbers of the unprecedented ousters were kept secret, rumors swirled in the capital that the scores of career officials affected by the initial purges could rise into the thousands as political commissars continued to assess the backgrounds of members of the police forces. 

The mentally declining and aging head of state, who has long embraced conspiracist thinking, spent much of the week railing in bizarre public remarks against the country’s oppressed racial and ethnic minorities, whom he blamed without evidence for causing a deadly plane crash across the river from the presidential mansion. Unfounded racist attacks on those minorities have been a key foundation of Trump’s unpredicted rise to political power from a career as a real estate magnate and reality TV host and date back to his first announcement that he would seek the presidency in 2015, when he railed against “rapists” being sent into the country from its southern neighbor.

In one of his first moves upon returning to the presidency, he mobilized far-right paramilitary security forces to begin raids at churches, schools, and workplaces to identify and remove racial minorities, including those who had long lived in harmony with the country’s white Christian majority. He also immediately moved to release from prison some 1,500 supporters who had participated in his unsuccessful 2021 insurrection, including members of violent far-right militias who promptly upon release swore fealty to him in any future civil unrest. Elsewhere, even as he released violent criminals onto the streets, Trump by fiat pulled longstanding government security protection from former military and health officials he felt had betrayed him.

Underscoring his apparent disconnection from reality, reports surfaced that the president had ordered military forces to unleash an environmental catastrophe and flood regions of a separatist province known as California that is led by a high-profile political opponent. The order underscored how the military, which had resisted Trump’s unconstitutional power grabs in his first administration, was now led by a subservient defense minister, a favored TV personality with no experience in management who faced an embarrassing series of allegations about his drunken behavior in the workplace.

Foreign allies who had long aligned themselves with the United States on the international stage were unsettled by increasingly destabilizing nationalistic and imperialist rhetoric coming from the president’s social media accounts—largely posted to a network owned and run by Trump himself—and worried in private conversations in capital embassies that he would mobilize the compliant military to fulfill heretofore unimaginable territorial ambitions that included seizing the country’s northern neighbor, which shares the world’s longest undefended border, and potentially colonizing Panama and Greenland.

Both the country’s defense minister, who has previously said he does not believe women should be allowed to serve in combat roles, and Trump’s new interior minister, who appeared on national TV wearing the paramilitary uniform of the border security force central to Trump’s political rise, spent much of their first days echoing and amplifying the president’s hysteria about racial and ethnic minorities. They and other government officials also immediately canceled all official observances of religious and ethnic minority holidays and launched efforts to scrub official websites and prohibit educating workers or schoolchildren about those minorities’ long, proud history in the country. Overnight Friday, hours after journalists had gone home, the defense minister’s office announced it would bar establishment independent media outlets from working out of the country’s military headquarters and replace them with friendly right-wing media organs.

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The administration’s propaganda minister also announced Friday, apparently with little preparation, that it would initiate an immediate, unexpected, and seemingly ill-considered trade war with the country’s two primary economic partners, a move that if implemented would upend the national economy, disrupt supply chains, and accelerate the return of an inflationary crisis that has roiled domestic politics over the last five years and had just seemed to be returning to normal. Ironically, it was that very inflationary crisis and Trump’s promises on the campaign trail to lower the price of eggs that paved the way for his unforeseen election victory in November.

The country’s other business oligarchs have watched Musk’s unexpected and rapid rise to power with trepidation, and leading media and technology companies who compete with Musk’s extensive business empire—like Meta, Amazon, Disney, Paramount, Apple, and OpenAI—have quickly lined up to negotiate and pay bribes to the president that would allow their companies to operate unimpeded; initial payment terms ranged from million-dollar gifts to the presidential inauguration to $15 million and $25 million payments, made by Disney and Meta, to fund the construction of a presidential shrine. The highest known payment was $40 million from Amazon, which was structured as a gift to the president’s wife in exchange for the media company having the opportunity to film a hagiographic biopic.

It was unclear, exactly, what deal terms any of those bribes and payments unlocked and when subsequent tribute payments would be expected, although on Saturday Trump moved to fire and neuter government watchdogs that had long bedeviled the country’s financial elite.

Throughout the week’s fast-moving seizure of power—one that seems increasingly irreversible by the hour—neither loyalist nor opposition parliamentary leaders raised meaningful objection to the new regime or the unraveling of the country’s constitutional system of checks and balances. A few members of the geriatric legislature body offered scattered social media posts condemning the move, but parliament — where both houses are controlled by so-called “MAGA” members handpicked for their loyalty to the president — went home early for the weekend even as Musk’s forces spread through the capital streets.

It was unclear what role, if any, Musk’s forces would allow parliament to have in the new governmental structure by the time it next returned to the national assembly known as Capitol Hill.

[skzdarlings]

lady-like ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: ❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜ W CHAN I BEG OF YOU + original ask: requested by anonymous: “You want gentle? Wrong fucking address”+ Chan <3

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: enemies to lovers, established lovers. criminal!chan, masked!chan. dom!chan, sub!reader (background mentions of switching). choking, floor sex, rough sex, dirty talk. brief mention of some sexism in the workplace. word count: 2050 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

It is the middle of the night and you are patrolling the art gallery yourself.  You do not trust your colleagues or the security team tonight.  No one believes there is any way to track the SKZ gang but you have found an undoubted pattern.  That motley band of thieves have struck this gallery more than once, making off with paintings and artifacts alike, but tonight you will catch them.

Tonight you will catch him.   

Your thought conjures him like a devil.  You turn a corner and a gloved hand escapes the shadows, covering your mouth.  You are yanked backwards, right into his chest, your back to his front. 

You feel a moment of satisfaction because ha, you were right.  No one believed you but you knew SKZ would strike tonight. 

Then you are furious because those rotten thugs are probably making off with a priceless artifact while their leader holds you hostage. 

“Hey there,” Bang Chan says in that too-friendly drawl.  “How’s my favourite girl tonight?”

You try biting his hand but the leather of his glove is quite thick.  Probably on purpose.  You have left more than one bite mark on him in past encounters.   

“Ah-nah-nah,” he says, steadying you when you wriggle. “Stop that.  We both know how this ends.  Let’s play nice this time instead, yeah?” 

You answer by stomping on his foot and throwing your head back.  The smack surprises him and he stumbles, giving you an opportunity to turn and brace yourself in a more defensible stance.  You face him, hands up, adrenaline thundering through your body. 

Chan is wearing all black, including a beanie and mask.  He removes the hat, revealing hair just as black, but keeps the mask while rubbing his jaw.  The half-hidden face somehow makes the dark intensity of his eyes look even more severe. 

You and Chan have a played a long game of cat-and-mouse.  You are so used to his teasing that you almost forget he is dangerously competent man.  A criminal.  A criminal you despise.   A criminal who is undoubtedly grinning at you under that mask, given the way his eyes crinkle with mirth.  It should not make your heart race. 

“Ouch,” he says.  He takes a step towards you, inching out of the shadows.  “You’ve been training.  Impressive.” 

“Not like I had a choice,” you snap. “Some no good criminal keeps attacking my art gallery.” 

“Criminal, yeah,” Chan says.  “But no good?  Really?”  He flicks a hand your way, not so much striking as testing your reflexes.  You bat it successfully and his eyebrows lift, showing he is moderately impressed.  

“You’re a dirty thief,” you say, taking a swing of your own.  Yours is much more deliberate, swinging at his head, but he dodges just as easily. 

You scamper backwards, his booted steps following swiftly.  You keep your hands up in defense.  He is still smirking under that mask. 

“Thief, yeah,” he continues to tease.  “But dirty?  Well… I suppose you’d know…” 

Heat pulses under your skin. 

This cat-and-mouse game has crossed many lines.  You cannot even remember how it first happened.  It feels like Bang Chan has always been in the shadows, stealing paintings and kisses alike.  One moment you were snarking at the infuriating cat burglar, then your hands were in his hair and his mouth was on yours. 

Sometimes he wins, distracting you or holding you, giving his team time to make off with something.  Sometimes you win, trapping him or his men and only letting them go if they relinquish their prize.  Weirdly, Chan seems to like it when you outsmart him.  It quite literally puts him on his knees.

Flustered, your next swing is more emotional than strategic.  He catches your arm and spins you again, trapping you against his body.  You grunt and struggle in his arms. 

“That’s not very polite, you know,” he says.  “I thought you said you were a lady.”

Yes, you have made such an insistence in the past, reminding him you are a lady of class, an educated woman, an intelligent academic.  He did not argue.  He did pin you to the wall and choke you in that infuriatingly delicious way, the way that gets you coming all over his hand in a second.   That’s it, he said, with a hand around your throat and another under your skirt.  Tell me what a lady you are.  Letting a criminal like me make you come.  Tsk, what would your co-workers say? 

You stamp the memory down because it is getting you hot.   He is holding you differently than before, so you cannot swing your head back again.  You writhe uselessly. 

“I didn’t just say I was a lady,” you snap.  “I am a lady.  I am a respected professional, unlike you—”

“I’m respected and professional, thank you,” he says, his tone still bright like he is having fun. 

It is fun. You hate to admit it, but it is.  Before he started breaking into your galleries, every day was the same.  Your life was such a monotony and you dread returning to it. There is a reason you never call the authorities on him.  There would be no triumph in that demise. You would lament his absence and forever feel like business went unfinished. 

You are satisfied when you can face this dangerous man and win, when you can push him on his back and put him in his place, when all that danger and power and skill surrenders to you and you alone.  Because Bang Chan has a notorious reputation for a lot of things, but fraternizing with civilians is not one of them.   

Except you. 

Except right now. 

“You know what I say, little miss lady?” he asks.

He gives you no time to answer.  Your breath catches when he circles that gloved hand around your throat and squeezes.  It softens every part of you immediately, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, instinctively and animalistically submissive in the claws of something powerful. 

You whimper, your knees going weak.  You know you are wet.  You know he knows. 

He pulls you against him.  You can feel every hard plane of his body, his bulky body armour, his weapons.  You feel either a buckle or his bulge against your body, but either way it is irrevocably suggestive.   When you wriggle, he squeezes your throat, and you go pliant again. 

“I’d say,” he whispers, “you need someone to put you in your place.”   

Oh, he has talked about your place many times before.  It’s with me, he will insist, fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come again and again, putting you on your knees and bringing out all the hidden dark and dirty parts of yourself.  Come on, he will say, we’re perfect for each other, yeah? You know it.  Join my team.  Come with me. 

You do admit, he respects your keen eye and talent, and he acknowledges your expertise far more than the other people at your gallery.  It took a year to even be allowed to do substantial tasks, relegated to fetching everyone’s coffee, getting spoken down to because you were a woman whose ambition was considered a nuisance. 

That is not enough to resort to a criminal life.  Surely? 

But for a moment, you can imagine giving into the darkness permanently.  Tonight, it is you that surrenders as he drags you both into the shadows and onto the floor.  He takes off his jacket and lays it out, pushing you down face-first onto it.  You take a dizzying gulp of air while his hands are occupied, removing his gloves, unbuckling his utility belt.   

You wait for the moment he lifts your skirt.  His breath catches when he realizes you are not wearing anything underneath.

You yelp because he smacks your ass.  You look back at him with as much fury as you can muster in your haze of lust. 

“A lady,” he says, grabbing your hips and tugging you back.  “Sure.” 

“I am,” you say, but your voice is rough, your breathing heavy just from his bare fingers gliding down your wet pussy, the evidence of your desire betraying your claims of propriety. 

“Sure, baby girl,” he says, because he knows it annoys you even while it makes you clench.  He can see the evidence of that too, swearing as he looks at you, making you feel even more exposed and flustered.   “You’re made for me, you know that, sweetheart?  Always feel so good on my dick.  God.” 

“You’re taking your time tonight,” you say dryly.  “Getting sentimental?  Turning into the slow and gentle type?” 

He laughs.  Then he grabs you by the neck, pinning you to the floor as he sidles up behind you.  The head of his cock presses at your entrance, wet with anticipation. 

“You want gentle?” he asks.  He is inside you with one deep thrust.  “Wrong fucking address.”

The truth is, even when rough, he is careful.  Your face never leaves his jacket and he knows where to squeeze and hit and press properly.   Bizarrely, ridiculously, you are safe in this criminal’s dangerous hands.   The biggest threat they pose are just how skilled and deft they are, making you forget about all of those details as he manhandles you and fucks your worries away. 

He wraps a hand around your throat and lifts you.  He is still in his mask, still almost entirely clothed except his undone fly.  Your skirt is up, your shirt in disarray, your chest and throat exposed to his hands.  You can hear him panting into his mask, your own breath as wild until he steals it.  You clench around him, making a weak, ragged sound as he chokes you and pounds into you. 

“You’re not gonna come like this, are ya?” he taunts, because he knows your body well, can feel you are the on verge just from his angles and rhythm.  “Tsk,” he says.  “That’s not very lady-like.”

You would tell him to shut up, but you can only manage a weepy moan as he drives you over the edge of a mind-numbing orgasm.  You feel drenched, dripping down your thighs, and he still doesn’t relent, pushing you back down and holding your hips as he drills through every sensitive nerve. 

“Fuck,” you say, twisting your fingers around his jacket.  Your knees will probably be bruised after this.  No short skirts or everyone will know something happened.  Would they guess you let the most notorious burglar in the country arch your back and fuck you on the floor?  Probably not.  You have always been a stickler for rules. 

Until this.  Until him. 

“Chan,” you say, breathless, rasping.  “Chan.”

“Fuck,” he says.  Then the weight of him is on your back, his hips grinding into yours.  His masked face brushes your ear and he speaks in a low voice, “Guess where I’m coming tonight, baby girl.” 

Your walls are still fluttering with aftershocks, pulling him deeper at his words.  It is not the first time, no.  God only knows how long ago that conversation first happened, telling him it was safe, how much you wanted it.   Letting him do things you never let anyone else do.  Breaking all your rules for him. 

“Fuck, Chan,” you say. 

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps.  “That’s who’s fucking you.  No one fucks you like I do.  God.  You can take it.  So good.” 

You can feel when he comes, his chest vibrating with his groan, the warmth inside you.  You slump in his arms, ravaged and sore and not the least bit sorry for it. 

You should be.  He won this round.  You should be furious at him.  You should be threatening him.  Your usual rapport. 

His mask comes off.  You hear it hit the floor.  Then he is grabbing your jaw and turning your face and kissing you deeply.  He holds your throat, not threateningly but possessively.  He is kissing you for so long, you almost forget who you are.  Then you surface.  You look at each other. 

“Come with me,” he says. 

The haze of lust has vanished.  You should be thinking clearly.  You fear, for the first time, you are.    

You suppose he has stolen everything else, why not you too? 

You put your hand in his.   

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Best one yet 🧡

[cyberclouddream]

The Moon through the Houses

The Moon represents our emotional motivations and how we seek comfort and security. It’s also connected to maternal influences, our subconscious patterns, our capacity for nurturing and empathy, and how we process our feelings and replenish our emotional energy.

Moon in the 1st House:

- their emotions are readily apparent, often shaping how others perceive them

- their self-image is tied to their emotions

- strong instinct to nurture others

- react strongly to their environment and feelings of others

- often display emotions in public

- prefer familiar environments and routines out of anxiety

Moon in the 2nd House:

- feel anxious about money and find comfort in accumulating wealth

- strong attachments to family values and traditions

- self-worth influenced by financial status and material possessions

- nurture others through material or financial resources

- reckless spending during emotional highs and lows

- good financial intuition

Moon in the 3rd House:

- may find it hard to communicate without getting emotional

- strong ties to siblings, neighbors, or close friends

- pursue and learn subjects that resonate with their feelings

- in-tune with the emotions of others, making them a good listener

- often dwell on emotional experiences, leading to overthinking

Moon in the 4th House:

- feel most secure when surrounded by family or families environments

- mother or maternal figures strongly influence you, maybe to the point of emotions dependence

- often dwell on memories

- tend to keep their emotions private

- home is their sanctuary, which they invest heavily in

- changes in home dynamics have a strong impact

- exploring their roots and heritage can be very healing and therapeutic

Moon in the 5th House:

- channel emotions into creative projects

- seek out fun relationships and enjoy flirtation and spontaneity; unpredictable love life

- strong maternal instincts, especially when it comes to children or passions

- emotional and nostalgic attachment to hobbies

- seek validation and recognition in their romantic affairs and creative projects

Moon in the 6th House:

- emotions heavily influence work ethic and coworkers

- nurture others through acts of service

- emotional stability benefits strongly from structured routines

- have a knack for identifying problems and finding solutions based on gut feelings

- work may be a form of emotional healing

Moon in the 7th House:

- seek partners who can offer emotional support and security

- highly attuned to the emotions and needs of their partners

- go to great lengths to keep the peace; avoid conflict

- emotional state impacts your commitment level

- project your emotions onto your partners, causing misinterpretation

Moon in the 8th House:

- struggle with opening up to others

- obsessive feelings or fixations, especially in relationships

- fascinated by the unseen, the occult, or psychology

- past traumas or intense emotions around inheritances or shared resources

- end up very transformative relationships

- heal best through vulnerability

Moon in the 9th House:

- feel fulfilled when exploring different cultures or ideologies

- nurture through teaching

- idealistic or romanticized views of life

- family background may be tied to learning or traveling

- emotions vary with intellectual pursuits

- innate ability to connect with others from diverse backgrounds on an emotional level

- use philosophical or spiritual practices for emotional support

Moon in the 10th House:

- feel fulfilled or drained based off career success or failures, seeking validation through work achievements

- invested in how others perceive their work, valuing praise

- mother or maternal figure may inspire their career choices

- workplace greatly influences emotional health

- overly attached to career aspirations, and may struggle with balancing personal life

Moon in the 11th House:

- feel most fulfilled when surrounded by supportive friends

- desire group acceptance, mood fluctuating based on how well they fit in

- highly reactive to social injustices or causes that matter to friend group

- fear social rejection to the point of burnout

- exhibit intense loyalty to friends, sometimes to a fault

- social circles may change frequently

Moon in the 12th House:

- have a rich inner world that others struggle to understand, leading to feelings of loneliness

- require periods of solitude to recharge and process your emotions

- find healing in introspection, like journaling and meditating

- strong empathy for other people’s struggles

- dreams are a great tool to reveal unresolved issues or insights about your emotion world

- instead of feeling emotions you may analyze or intellectualize them

- natural healing abilities or desire to work in therapeutic fields

[pixeltwix]

Life After Divorce for Emma May

For awhile now I’ve struggled to figure out what job Emma May could’ve taken up after the divorce as for so many reasons this is SUCH a messy topic.

Firstly, do y’all ever think about how the only reason Fiddleford was even going to Gravity Falls in the first place was to secure more money and provide a better financial future for his family (something he’d always dreamt of doing) only to then lose his memories, leaving the family in shambles, and ultimately leaving them in a worse financial situation with Em as a single mom?? Cause I think about this ALL the time-

To me it only makes sense that Fiddleford would marry someone just as lovely and sweet as him, but also someone who is tough enough for both of them. Let’s all nod our heads and agree that Fiddleford is a pushover and a major people pleaser. Most of his kindness to Ford is him outwardly wanting validation from an old friend he admirers because otherwise he feels useless and unintelligent. Ie Fidds whole, ‘I’m the builder, if I’m not building something than I’m useless’. So when he becomes too exhausted to build and Ford grows frustrated with this he tries to make up for it with gifts etc :,). That paired with some chronic anxiety is a recipe for a man who needs someone who can understand that and is willing to help him- his wife. mutually patient and kind as he, is happy to be that for him.

Regardless as far as her career goes, smart as she is, I don’t see her as book smart? Rather people smart? Emma May knows how to talk someone up, knows how to make a deal, knows how to defuse a situation, and could probably sell someone their own shirt off their back. Perhaps that could stem from the cult background I explain here and here, but regardless she’s witty in conversation and great at pretending she’s an expert on something she’s never heard of.

Naturally I thought sales would be a good place to put her, maybe rise the ladder that way? One of those late night tv marketers? But it didn’t feel like enough? The 80’s were a prime time for women to put themselves into the workplace, incredibly toxic as the environment was for them it didn’t stop women from being excited to be there. Ironically it’s the perfect time to divorce? Even if she didn’t want to, after the giant homicidal pterodactyl robot it sort of felt like a, ‘even if I still love my husband, if I value me and my sons life, I have to do this’ sort of thing

After taking that into consideration I thought ‘honestly bigger is better’ so I brainstormed harder to figure it out. And after a few lengthy rabbit holes I believe I figured it out. While Fiddleford acts as sort of the Bill Gates of the Gravity Falls universe I thought ‘who’s someone else deeply recognizable in Americas pop culture, but tv related?’ And then it hit me, ‘oh my god what if Emma May acts as the Oprah of the Gravity Falls universe? The Emma Dixon Show?’ (In the sense of a beloved tv personality that unexpectedly rose to great fame in the mid 1980s) The-match up felt perfect enough and a mid 80s timeframe feels realistic too as it gives her those three years to struggle and figure something out to provide for her son.

But also hi hello, I needed Emma May to peruse some sense of tv fame for the sake of her last name becoming a synonymous one. Considering I have no idea where miss Emmaline Butternubbins wound up after the fall of Billville (or hell if she’s even alive some twenty odd years later) but I love the idea of Emmaline recognizing the name ‘Dixon’, seeing the similarities on tv between Emma May and what she remembers of young Madeline, and wanting to reach out. Mainly out of fear that Ciphertology is rising again and she wants to talk some sense into her, sure, but once they meet or get in contact and Em couldn’t be further from that?? She’s relieved. Plus the two can bond over the absolute madness of the cult (also Emma May gaining a mother figure that isn’t Fiddleford mom? I love Bobbie Jean, but Em needs even more maternal support)

Also also?? I always envisioned Emma May as the type of gal to be super into photography. She just loves taking pictures of memories, people she cares about, and stuff she likes.

So this especially grew once she had Tate, the kid naturally being used to getting his photo taken for scrapbooks, and he loved being photogenic

But once his mom becomes a tv personality he begins to detest the public eye and the cameras of others

Its a hatred he keeps to adulthood especially, having zero tolerance for anyones cameras (other than his moms polaroid camera) pointed towards him

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

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

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.  

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’ 

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can��t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again. 

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

‘I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

Link to next part!

[empthy1]

Workplace Distraction !! - alice wu-gulliver x reader

fluff bc i miss her :( and written in like twenty minutes because i want to go to bed so sorry if its weird

The Westview Mall wasn't exactly the most glamorous place to work. Harsh lighting and cold floors, empty halls and slow stores. You'd see the occasional hivemind of teens, huddled in their corner with blue-and-red slurpies and their phones echoing noises through the otherwise quiet mall.

"Alice!"

That's the one thing that keeps her from going insane in this sleepy store. Your visits. The flounce of her partner through the dark recess of this already abandoned area. Tucked in the back corner and barely surviving the ire of concerned parents, it wasn't a store frequented by most.

This allowed you the store to yourself on your almost daily visits—letting you tug her closer by the collar of her work shirt and plant your lips right on the corner of her mouth. Stumbling into you, laughter bubbling from her throat, she tugs you back, past the gates and into the Hot Topic that stole her away.

"At least get past the theft prevention sensors." She murmurs, gentle compared to her reputation. Dark hair and red accents blend into the background of the store's walls of black shirts and the shelves of various merchandise.

Her title's much fancier than her job—Theft Protection Manager. Instead, she's a glorified security guard, left to run the store as well as her teenaged companion that is supposed to man the register takes copious amounts of smoke breaks. Don't they know she'd benefit from a cigarette, too?

Yet, the absence of her coworker and the emptiness of this mall—of the whole town allows her the option of tugging you into the backroom at her leisure.

Once in a blue moon she'll entice you into an impromptu makeout; it's more like once a week, in truth. But hey, it's not her fault that the boxes of merchandise and one shitty, sputtering light is such a romantic atmosphere. Today, though, you've brought her lunch. Swapping sandwiches and drinks, mild chatter the only noise that fills the cramped room. Like an picnic, yet much less sunny. Yet, the brightness of her smile is the only light she wants to see, your continued faith in her the only motivator she has after being fired so many times. She can't help but lean over and kiss a smear of sauce from your lips, mumbling an 'I love you.'

She's a sap. It's worth it when you say it back.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔚𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰

Protective Mike Schmidt x gn reader

Summary: You met Mike on an overcast Wednesday afternoon. The rain pelted the windows of the small café where you worked, creating a rhythmic background to the dull hum of conversation and the clinking of cups and saucers. Your bond grew stronger the more you got the know each other's, like ivy clinging to an old stone wall.

Warnings: no pronouns used towards the reader. Protective Mike. If you squint we could even say obsessed Mike. Near death experience. Taking care of Abby with Mike. Stranger to friends to lovers. Smut.

Words count: almost 6000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

You met Mike on an overcast Wednesday afternoon. The rain pelted the windows of the small café where you worked, creating a rhythmic background to the dull hum of conversation and the clinking of cups and saucers.

He looked out of place when he walked in, his rugged demeanor contrasting sharply with the cozy, quaint atmosphere. He wore a heavy jacket, dark jeans, and an expression that spoke of burdens too heavy for one man to carry alone.

He ordered a black coffee and sat at a corner table, his eyes scanning the room but seeing nothing.

It wasn't long before you noticed that he came in every day at the same time, always sitting in the same spot. Curiosity got the better of you, and one day, you decided to strike up a conversation.

You found out that Mike was working nights as a security guard at a place called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The job, he admitted, wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills, which was all that mattered since he was taking care of his younger sister, Abby, by himself.

There was something about Mike that drew you in maybe it was the way he seemed so protective of Abby, or perhaps it was the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide beneath his tough exterior. Either way, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, and soon, your conversations became the highlight of your day.

Mike's presence had a way of grounding you, his deep voice soothing even when he spoke of mundane things. You began to learn about his past, the weight of responsibility that came with raising Abby alone, and the tragedy that had carved deep lines into his handsome face. Each revelation was like peeling back a layer of armor, revealing the heart of a man who cared deeply, even if he tried to hide it.

You became closer over time. He would come to visit and you'd be there to keep him company while he, in exchange, would offer you a change of breath from the monotonous hours at work.

However, your meetings didn't just stop at your workplace.

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It was a chilly evening when you received Mike's call, his voice laced with evident worry "Abby's got a fever. I don't know what to do. She's burning up." he said

Mike was always so strong, but when it came to Abby, his protective nature made him vulnerable. "I'll be right over" you promised, already grabbing your coat and some medicine from your cabinet

When you arrived at Mike's modest apartment, he was waiting at the door, his expression filled with worry. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice tense.

"Of course," you replied, stepping inside. The apartment was small but cozy, filled with signs of Abby's presence with her drawings on the fridge, toys scattered around the living room. You followed Mike to Abby's room, where the little girl lay in bed, her face flushed with fever.

"I brought you this Abby" you said softly, sitting beside her and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

Abby managed a weak smile. "Thank you" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

You handed her the medicine, helping her take it. "This will help bring your fever down," you assured her.

Mike watched, his expression a mix of gratitude and helplessness. "I've tried everything," he said quietly. "Cold compresses, keeping her hydrated... nothing seems to work."

"Sometimes it just takes a little time" you said gently. "But we'll take care of her together."

For the next few hours, you and Mike worked side by side to make Abby comfortable. You alternated between placing cool washcloths on her forehead and reading her favorite stories to keep her spirits up. Mike fetched water and checked her temperature regularly, his concern never wavering.

As the evening turned into night, Abby finally began to show signs of improvement. Her fever started and she drifted into You and Mike sat to break, in the living room, the tension casing slightly

"Thank you" Mike said, his voice breaking the silence. "I don't know what I'd do without you.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "You're doing a great job, Mike. Abby's lucky to have you."

He shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I'm lucky to have you."

You reached out, taking his hand. "We're in this together. Abby's like family to me now."

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, he seemed to let go of his usual guarded demeanor. You squeezed his hand, feeling a deep connection between you.

As the night went on, you stayed by Abby's side, keeping a watchful eye on her. Mike eventually fell asleep in the chair beside her bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and love for his sister.

In the quiet of the night, with Abby's fever subsiding and Mike resting peacefully, you felt a sense of contentment. This was what family was about: being there for each other in times of need, supporting one another through the challenges of life.

When morning came, Abby woke up feeling much better. She greeted you with a bright smile. "I feel a lot better," she said, her voice stronger.

You smiled back, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Abby."

Mike stirred, waking up to see Abby's improved condition, "How are you feeling, kiddo?" he asked, his voice filled with affection

"Much better" Abby replied, reaching out to hug him. "Thanks to you and your friend."

Mike glanced at you, his eyes conveying more than words ever could. "Thank you," he said softly, his gratitude overwhelming

As you left Mike's apartment that morning, a warm sensation spread through your chest. Your bond had grown stronger through the night, and you felt a deep sense of belonging with them.

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There was something that happened later on that brought the two of you even closer, his behavior shifted, showed mostly in his actions.

Mike had just finished his grueling night shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, and you were wrapping up your own unexpected night shift at the café. One of your coworkers had called in sick, and you'd offered to take their place, not knowing that the night would take such a turn. Exhausted but relieved to finally be done, you stepped out into the cool carly morning air, your phone buzzing in your pocket.

"Hey," Mike's voice came through the line, a comforting sound amidst the quiet street. "I'm done for the night. How about you?"

"Just finished," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "Want to meet up?"

"I'll be there in five," he said without hesitation.

True to his word, Mike arrived a few minutes later, his rugged appearance softened by the warmth in his eyes as he spotted you. "You look tired," he said, his tone gentle

"Long night" you admitted. "But seeing you makes it better."

The corner of his lips moved up, a rare and beautiful sight. "Come on, let's go for a walk. Clear our heads."

You fell into step beside him, the two of you wandering aimlessly through the quiet streets. The early morning light cast a soft glow over everything, and for a while, you simply talked about anything and everything that came to mind. It was a moment of peace, a chance to forget the night's horrors and just be together.

"I've never seen you so eager to stay awake like that" you remarked, glancing up at him.

"Maybe it's because of you" he said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

You decided to walk a little more, trying to shake off the lingering tension. The quiet streets were starting to come to life with carly risers and the first hints of morning activity. You and Mike chatted about everything and nothing, the fatigue making your thoughts more whimsical.

"What's the first thing you'll do when you get home?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Mike pondered for a moment. "Probably make breakfast for Abby. She loves pancakes."

You smiled, picturing the scene. "I bet she's going to love that."

Mike glanced at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "What about you? Any plans for the day?"

"Sleep" you replied with a laugh. "Definitely sleep."

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. "Sounds like a good plan."

As you walked, you spotted a street lamp up ahead. A playful idea struck you, and you turned to Mike with a grin. "Race you to that pole" you challenged. "First one there wins."

Mike raised an eyebrow, his fatigue evident but his competitive spirit still alive. "You're on."

With a laugh, you took off, your legs carrying you forward as fast as they could. Mike was right behind you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement. The cool morning air rushed past your face, and for a moment, you felt completely free.

You reached the pole first, turning around triumphantly. "I win!" you called out, breathless and exhilarated.

Mike was a few steps behind, slowing down and eventually stopping a few yards away, panting heavily. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Despite his fatigue, he looked up at you, and for the first time, you saw him smile a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his entire face.

Seeing him smile like that made your heart swell with happiness. "I can't believe you gave up." you teased, walking back towards him. "Not as tough as you look, huh?"

Mike straightened up, still smiling. "I guess I underestimated you" he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe next time you'll know better."

But as you shared this moment of joy, you noticed Mike's expression change, his smile fading into a look of horror.

You followed his gaze, turning just in time to see the car barreling down the street, heading straight for the sidewalk where you stood. The driver, clearly drunk, seemed to lose control completely.

"Move!" Mike shouted, his voice filled with panic. He lunged forward, grabbing you and pulling you out of the way just in time. The car swerved onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing you both before crashing into a fence with a deafening crash.

You fell to the ground, Mike's arms still around you, protecting you from the impact. The world seemed to slow down, the sounds of the crash fading into the background as you tried to process what had just happened, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Are you okay?" Mike's voice broke through the haze, his hands frantically checking you for injuries.

"I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice shaking. "Just... a bit shaken."

Mike's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. "I thought... I thought I lost you" he whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace. You clung to him, the reality of how close you'd come to being hit sinking in.

Before you knew it, an ambulance had arrived, the flashing lights casting an eerie glow over the scene. Paramedics ushered you into the vehicle, insisting on checking you for injuries. Mike climbed in right beside you, refusing to leave your side.

"Sir, you'll have to wait outside," one of the paramedics said, but Mike shook his head, his expression resolute

"I'm not leaving" he said firmly, his eyes never leaving you.

The paramedics exchanged a look but relented, allowing Mike to stay. He hovered over you, his concern palpable. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, his hands gently checking for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine" you reassured him, though your voice was still shaky. "Thanks to you."

Mike's jaw tightened, and you could see the fear lingering in his eyes.

"You could've died" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

He stayed close, his presence a comforting anchor as the paramedics finished their examination. "Just a few scrapes and bruises" they told you. "You're lucky.

Mike let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yeah," he said softly. "Very lucky."

As the ambulance pulled away, leaving the wreckage behind, you leaned into Mike, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Despite the scare, there was a sense of safety in his arms, a feeling that everything would be okay as long as he was there.

"Want to go home?" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grip tightened slightly, his gaze intense. "Just another second..." he replied. "Sure."

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He watched you from his car as you made your way to your own house, turning back to say goodbye to him one last time. The shadows of the evening wrapping around you like a cloak.

You had no idea how much you had come to mean to him.

What he saw today made him remember again how it takes a fraction of a second to lose someone forever.

It wasn't just affection that bound him to you; it was an almost primal urge, an instinct that had rooted itself deep within his soul.

The idea of anyone or anything hurting you or Abby was unbearable, a thought that clawed at his sanity.

He knew it wasn't entirely rational, this need to protect you and Abby at all costs, but it had become his purpose, his reason.

You were both his light in the darkness, and he would ensure that light never faded.

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︎The cafe was bustling with its usual morning crowd the steady hum of conversation mixing with the slinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You were behind the counter, trying to keep up with the increasing number of orders. It was a typical day, or so you thought, until a particularly rude customer walked in.

He was tall and imposing, his face set in a a scowl as he approached the counter and, his tone dripping with impatience "I need a large black coffee."

You forced a polite smile, despite the unease settling in your stomach. "Of course, sir. It will be ready in just a moment"

As you prepared the coffee, the customer tapped his fingers on the counter "Is it always this slow here?" He muttered loud enough for you to hear, his irritation growing

"I'm sorry for the wait" you replied, keeping your tone as calm and professional as possible. "We're a bit busy this morning"

The customer hufted, rolling his eyes. When you finally handed him his coffee, he reached out and grabbed your arm tightly, his grip painful "Maybe if you moved faster, people wouldn't have to wait so long" he snarled.

Before you could pour the hot coffee on the face of this asshole and potentially lose your job, you heard a familiar voice behind him, filled with barely restrained anger "Let go"

Mike stood there, his eyes blazing with fury. He had just come in to visit you, and seeing the man manhandle you had flipped a switch. His hand closed over the customer's wrist, his grip like iron.

"Let go" Mike said, his voice low and dangerous.

The customer looked at him, sneering, but the look in Mike's eyes made him think twice. He released your arm and backed away, muttering curses under their breath. Mike didn't let go until the man was out the door, and even then, he staved close by, making sure you were all right.

His presence was intimidating, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive

The entire café had fallen silent, all eyes on the scene that had just unfolded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "Mike, you didn't have to"

He turned to you, his expression softening as he took your hands in his. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern

You nodded, feeling the tension slowly disappear. "I'm fine, really.

Mike sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly, "I just... I couldn't stand seeing him treat you like that."

You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Mike. He deserved it."

He still looked troubled, his protective instincts clearly warring with his concern for your well-being "I might have overreacted" he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

"You didn't." you assured him. "I appreciate what you did."

Mike nodded, though you could see the tension still lingering in his eyes. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

You reached out, touching his arm gently. "And nothing did, thanks to you."

The café slowly returned to its usual bustle, the other customers resuming their conversations and the baristas getting back to their work. You and Mike moved to a corner table, needing a moment to decompress after the confrontation.

"How often does stuff like that happen?" Mike asked, his worry evident.

"Not often" you replied, taking a sip of water. "Most customers are really nice and every now and then, you get someone like that."

Mike's jaw tightened. "Next time, just call me. I'll be here in a heartbeat."

"I know you will. But I can handle it. I have to, for my job."

He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

As the day wore on, you found comfort in Mike's presence. He stayed with you for the rest of your shift, his protective gaze never starving far.

When things got busy, he even helped out, taking orders and delivering drinks with a natural ease that impressed your coworkers. They'd heard about the incident and were quietly thankful for his presence, giving you nods of approval and knowing smiles.

Once your shift finally ended. Mike was right there, waiting to walk you home. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. You both strolled along the sidewalk, the tension of the morning slowly dissipating.

"You really didn't have to stay the whole time," you said, glancing up at him.

"I wanted to," Mike replied simply. "I couldn't leave you after what happened."

You smiled, touched by his dedication. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

Mike chuckled, a sound that made you feel light inside. "I try."

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His protectiveness extended into the smallest aspects of your life. When you cut your finger while slicing fruits one evening, he was beside you with worry and carefully bandaged your finger in the back of the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile at his overreaction to such a minor injury.

"Mike, it's just a little cut," you teased gently.

"I know," he muttered, not meeting your eyes. "But I needs to be treated either way"

Another time, you got caught in a sudden storm. Mike had come to pick you up after your shift, and as you both hurried to his car, he used his jacket to shield you from the rain, despite your protests.

"Mike, you're going to get soaked!" you exclaimed

"Doesn't matter," he replied, his tone unwavering. "You could get sick"

His selfless actions spoke volumes about his feelings for you, even if he didn't realize it himself.

Mike's protectiveness was an intrinsic part of who he was. He couldn't turn it off, even in the most mundane situations.

You noticed it in the way he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk, subtly placing himself

between you and the traffic.

Or the time when a simple grocery run turned into a mini adventure because he insisted on carrying all the heavy bags, not wanting you to strain yourself.

It was these little things that made you fall deeper in love with him. His actions, though often silent, spoke volumes about the depth of his care and concern for you. He might not have been the most eloquent with words, but his deeds left no doubt about his feelings.

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It was a few weeks later that Mike invited you to the pizzeria. He had picked up an extra shift and needed someone to keep him company during the long, lonely hours of the night. Despite the creepy reputation of the place, you agreed, intrigued by the stories Mike had told you and eager to spend more time with him.

When you arrived at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, the first thing you noticed was how different it looked from the outside compared to the cheerful advertisements. The building was old and worn, the paint peeling off the walls, and the sign flickering intermittently: Mike met you at the entrance, his expression softening when he saw you.

"Glad you made it," he said, his voice low but warm.

Inside, the pizzeria was dark and musty. The animatronics, which were the main attraction during the day, looked creepy in the dim light, their glassy eyes seeming to follow you as you walked past. Mike led you to his office, a small, cramped room filled with monitors and security equipment.

"This is where I spend most of my nights," he explained, gesturing to the screens. "It's not much, but it's got everything everything I need to keep an eye on things.

As the night wore on, you talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and laughter amidst the unsettling surroundings. It was in those quiet moments, when the only sound was the hum of the monitors, that you felt a connection with Mike that went beyond friendship.

At Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, things took a darker turn. The animatronics had a sinister reputation, and the atmosphere of the place left you on edge.

The lights flickered, and strange noises echoed through the halls. Mike insisted you stay in the security office with him, away from the dangers lurking in the night . The tension in the air grew thick.

When the animatronics came too close for comfort, Mike stood his ground, making sure they couldn't reach you.

"Just stay close" he said, his eyes never leaving the monitors.

The power went out completely, the animatronics seemed to come alive, their eyes glowing ominously. You clung to Mike, your fear palpable, but he remained calm, guiding you through the darkness with a steady hand.

"We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a beacon of hope.

Foxy managed to corner you in a narrow hallway. Panic surged through you as the animatronic's eyes locked onto yours. But then Mike was there, pulling you to safety with seconds to spare.

He led you through the darkened halls, using his knowledge of the pizzeria's layout to outmaneuver the mechanical threats. When Freddy himself blocked your path, Mike confronted the towering figure.

"Run!" he shouted, distracting Freddy long enough for you to escape. You hesitated when you saw that animatronic approaching him, fearing the worst. The lights flickered back on and a half-cut cable caught your gaze with the sparks that came out of it. Your heart raced as you grabbed the cable and sprinted towards the animatronic, 'stabbing' it with the cable and seeing it twitch from the electricity that spread through it's body before collapsing on the floor.

You made your way to the exit, the sounds of the animatronics fading behind you.

Outside, the cool morning air greeted you, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Mike emerged moments later, his clothes torn but his spirit unbroken. He pulled you into a tight embrace, relief washing over you both.

As the sun rose, casting a new day in warm light, you and Mike stood together, hand in hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear and relief.

You nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Your eyes roamed over his body in search of any possible injury.

He was willing to sacrifice himself for you

Mike's arms around you were a fortress, shielding you from the horrors of the night.

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One weekend, you spent the afternoon at Mike's apartment, playing with Abby. Her laughter filled the room as you engaged in a lively game of hide and seek. Mike watched from the doorway, a rare smile spreading across his face. He was mesmerized by the sight of you and Abby together, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in years

"Mike, you're staring!" Abby's voice broke through his reverie, her eyes twinkling with mischief

Mike flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just making sure you two are playing fair" he grumbled, his attempt at nonchalance not fooling anyone.

Watching her play, Mike's eyes softened, filled with a mixture of pride and happiness. You and Abby were snickering together, and Mike felt a surge of contentment.

He couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

The evening was now calm and quiet, with a soft breeze wafting through the open windows. Abby had fallen asleep in her room, her gentle breathing a soothing backdrop to the tranquil night.

You and Mike were sitting on the couch in the living room, the dim light of a lamp casting a warm glow around the room.

the sense of companionship between you felt stronger than ever.

"It's nice to just relax like this," Mike said, his voice low and content. He stretched his legs out, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, smiling at him. "Today was perfect."

Mike's eyes met yours, and he returned your smile, a genuine warmth in his gaze. "I'm glad you think so. I really enjoyed spending the day with you."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only close friends-or perhaps something more-could share. The flickering shadows on the walls and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen added to the serene ambiance.

"You know" Mike began, his voice thoughtful, "I don't think I've ever felt this... at ease with someone before."

You looked at him, surprised but touched by his admission. "Really? Not even with anyone from your past?"

Mike shook his head, a shadow crossing his features for a moment. "No, not like this. It's different with you. I feel like I can be myself."

His words made your heart swell with emotion. "I feel the same way, Mike. Being with you just feels... right."

He smiled again, a soft, almost shy smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

You continued to talk, your voices low to avoid waking Abby. The conversation flowed easily, moving from light-hearted topics to deeper, more personal ones. You shared stories from your past, dreams for the future, and everything in between. The bond between you seemed to grow with every word, every shared laugh, and every silent moment of understanding.

The conversation turned to Abby and Mike's dedication to her. "You're such a great brother to Abby," you said sincerely. "She's lucky to have you."

Mike's expression softened. "I just want to make sure she has a good life, better than what I had. She's been through a lot, and I want to protect her from the world."

"And you're doing an amazing job" you assured him. "She's a happy, healthy kid because of you."

Mike looked down at his hands. "I couldn't have done it without you. You've been such a support for both of us."

"Anytime," you replied, feeling a deep sense of connection. "We're in this together, remember?"

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours again. "Yeah, we are."

As the night wore on, you found yourselves growing more comfortable, more relaxed. Mike leaned back on the couch, and you instinctively moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't hesitate, wrapping an arm around you in a gentle, protective embrace.

The simple act of being close to him felt incredibly comforting. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the quiet rhythm of his breathing. It was a moment of perfect peace, the world outside forgotten as you shared this intimate space.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with you. You stifled a yawn, and Mike noticed, a tender smile playing on his lips. "You should get some rest" he said softly.

You nodded, reluctantly pulling away from his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I guess I should."

Mike stood up and offered you a hand, helping you to your feet. "Thank you for spending the day with me. It meant a lot."

A silent understanding passed between you and Mike, unspoken yet profoundly felt. You both moved closer, your bodies naturally gravitating towards one another. The space between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by an electric intimacy that neither of you could ignore.

Mike's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gentle yet firm grasp. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and desire.

His other hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with emotion, a merging of two souls who had found solace in each other's presence.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into him, every barrier you had ever put up crumbling away. You moved closer, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you intensifying. Mike's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if he never wanted to let go.

You found yourselves moving towards his bedroom, the path familiar yet new in this context. Every step felt like a dance, a silent symphony of mutual need and affection. By the time you reached his room, there was no turning back. The door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing the moment in privacy

The room was bathed in a gentle glow from a bedside lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls. You both paused for a moment, taking in the gravity of what was about to happen. Mike's eyes met yours, and in that gaze, you saw everything-his love, his desire, his unwavering commitment.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle, giving you one last chance to reconsider.

You nodded, feeling a profound sense of rightness. "I'm sure."

With that, the last of your reservations melted away. Mike's hands moved to your shoulders, slowly sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his body.

As the dawn light casts a gentle glow across the room, you and Mike lie entwined, each movement deliberate and tender. The night had been a journey of exploration and connection, and now, in the quiet morning, the memory of your actions remains vivid and profound.

Your bodies had moved together with an unspoken understanding, each touch and kiss a communication of deep, unrestrained emotion. As the moments unfolded, your hands had traced the contours of each other's bodies, mapping out the planes and curves with a reverence born of newfound intimacy.

Mike's lips had traveled along the line of your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck, each kiss a promise of his affection and desire. His hands, strong yet gentle, had roamed over your body, learning every dip and rise, every sensitive spot that elicited a sigh or a gasp from you. His touch was both exploratory and worshipful, a blend of curiosity and deep-seated reverence.

You had mirrored his actions, your fingers gliding over the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. Your lips had found their way to his chest, your kisses soft and lingering as you explored the terrain of his skin. Every touch, every caress, had been a dance of mutual discovery, a testament to the deep connection growing between you.

He kisses down your chest, leaving little trails of red spots and taking your nipples into his mouth for a minute each causing you to arch off the bed a bit.

But he doesn't linger and is quick to trail down to your thighs, leaving little bites here and there.

As the night deepened, your bodies had come together in a union both physical and emotional.

He goes slow, deep long strokes that you can feel in your kidney with how deep he goes, but you can't find it in you to complain, not when Mike is looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky.

Not when he can feel Mike's lips on you, kissing you like his life depends on it, like you are his salvation.

Not when all the sweet words Mike mutters along your skin, like prayers, are going straight to your spine.

Not when you feel Mike's arms around you, like he's afraid that any wrong move would break you, whispering your name urgently like he's afraid you would disappear.

Mike's movements had been guided by a combination of tenderness and fervent need, each thrust a blend of passion and care. Your bodies had moved in harmony, each responding to the other's cues, creating a rhythm that was both primal and deeply intimate.

The sensations had built to a crescendo, each touch, each kiss, driving you both closer to the edge. Mike's hands had held you close, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze, a silent testament to the depth of his feelings. Your breaths had mingled, your heartbeats synchronized, each moment a step closer to a shared climax.

When the final moment had arrived, it had been a release both physical and emotional. Your bodies had shuddered in unison, the culmination of your passion a powerful testament to the bond you had forged. In the aftermath, as your breaths slowed and your heartbeats steadied, you had remained entwined, the warmth of your connection a comforting blanket against the chill of the early morning.

Now, in the soft light of dawn, you lie together, your bodies still pressed close, a tangible reminder of the night's intimacy. The world outside may hold challenges and uncertainties, but here, in this moment, you find solace in each other's presence. Mike's arms wrap around you, his body fitting perfectly against yours, a symbol of the unity you have discovered.

As you drift towards a peaceful sleep, your last thoughts are of the profound connection you share, the promise of facing the future together, bound by love and mutual respect.

I really enjoyed writing this and love how it turned out, let me know if you also had fun reading this <3

[bullet-prooflove]

From your lovely 'The 'Oh Dear This Got A Little Filthy' Prompt List' 👀 "It's that lacy black pair with the little bows The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo" for our best guy Nick Torres? 🧡

Tagging: @kmc1989 @whateversomethingbruh @district447 @lovebookheart @stelacole

Nick’s away when you get the package. He’s stuck on the USS Allegiance, heading up an investigation into an abandoned baby found aboard, when the sleek black box arrives at the apartment the two of you share.

When you open it the inside is lined with fuchsia tissue paper and tied off with a black silk ribbon. There’s  a cream piece of card resting on top.

I picked out a black lacy pair with the pretty little bows, it reads. I chose them for you when I was in Tokyo. I can’t wait to see you in them. – Casanova

You’ve been receiving gifts like this for the past few months. It started with an box of expensive Swiss chocolates arriving on your desk one afternoon. You’d thought they were a token of appreciation from a cold case you’d solved until one of your colleagues told you they retailed for almost $300 dollars. You’d tried tracking down the sender but the company refused to play ball with your request.

The next was a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal Rosé 2014 Champagne retailing at over $700 dollars, followed by a pair of diamond earrings. Each one contains a card, written in black calligraphy written as if the perpetrator were your lover. You’d reported it to your supervisor and it had been kicked upstairs to Supervisory Special Agent Lisa Parker in the Family, Sexual Violence and Threat Management Unit.

It’s her number you dial after taking several pictures of ‘the gift’.

“It came to my home this time.” You tell Lisa as you double check the locks on the door. “That means he knows where we live.”

“Harper, I need you to take a deep breath for me and calm down.” Lisa responds and you can hear her keys clattering in the background. “We’re on our way.”

“We?” You respond, your heart sinking because it’s her day off and you already know she’s bringing Alden.

The thing about these ‘gifts’? You’ve not told Nick about them. That man is fiercely protective over you. If he knew about any of this he’d be warpath, spending every waking moment driving himself crazy trying to track this asshole down. Up until now you’d been able to handle it, all of the boxes had been coming to your workplace and NCIS had excellent security. It’s only today that the game has changed because this one, it’s come to your home and it’s far more intimate than all the others Casanova has sent you.

You tune back into Lisa’s voice on the other side of the line, her assurances she’s on her way and she’s keeping you on speaker until her and Alden arrive. Your phone flashes with another call, Nick’s picture appearing on the screen and you reject it because this shit right now that’s not something you can tell your life partner over the phone.

It’s a conversation you’re going to have to have face to face.

Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sinnabarmoth]

So you talked about what the lads would be like as yanderes… how would they handle US being a yandere? How tolerant would they be? Is there a line they would draw? Would they try to test our limits or make us jealous?

Okay so I guess it all depends on what kind of yandere they are dealing with. For the sake of this ask I'm just going to categorize the yandere as your typical stalker yandere.

Zayne: I think out of all of them the least tolerant of a yandere would be Zayne. The man simply does not have the time to be dealing with a yandere and their tendencies. You are showing up at the hospital all the time while he is trying to work and while he may have enjoyed your visits before the frequency gets a little grating. He had to ask you to stop coming by so often to visit and you begrudgingly agreed and then wound up back at the hospital later anyway cause you claimed that you weren't feeling well. Whatever happens away from work he's much easier about but he has to end up drawing a hard line when it comes to his workplace. Since he won't let you in you end up installing hidden cameras in his office so you can keep tabs on him without bothering him.

Xavier: At first Xavier doesn't realize that you are stalking him and just thinks you keep running into each other by coincidence. It isn't until he is on a mission in a dangerous sector and sees you that he gets a little more concerned and he starts to realize what's actually been going on. Tells you that your attention to him is flattering but you can't go wandering into missions with him unprotected. You concede that and end up gifting him a fitness watch that doubles as a tracker so you can keep tabs on where he is going and watching his heart rate so you can discern when he is fighting or not. Outside of that one line he is able to handle you pretty easily and you mellow out a lot when you can actually be together.

Rafayel: Rafayel fully does not care that you are yandere. The man is actually happy that you follow him around because he equally loves having you all to himself. He saw your phone once and saw that it was full of open search tabs and social media apps all about him that you clearly check multiple times a day. A picture of him is your phone background. He adores the attention and he has no problem with you letting yourself into his house and he knows you've broken in before because he obviously has security cameras set up. He eventually just gave you a key so you could come in whenever. He likes teasing you a bit by talking to other people and watching how worked up you get when you think you have competition.

Sylus: Sylus knew from the jump that you were a yandere and loves nothing more than turning your stalking back on you. You like following him around? He's going to take such a weird winding path just to confuse you. You're secretly taking pictures all the time? He's making sure to pose so you get a nice shot, can't have bad blurry photos of him after all. The entire time he also has Mephisto keeping tabs on you. He likes to test just how far you are willing to go to see him. One time he locked himself in his mansion with every curtain drawn so you couldn't even get a glimpse with a drone and kept track of how long it took you to attempt breaking in. He's in the security room watching the camera feeds and you as you bust your way into the mansion just thinking, about damn time! Three days? He's a little insulted you took that long.

[aulescev]

Prisoner König x Nurse Reader

Soooo, I made a fanfiction where Monster!König is a prisoner, while the reader is a nurse at a maximum security prison. I'm so excited to share it with everyone, but also kinda anxious because I never really had someone read my works, let alone post a fanfiction I made (っ ̩̆╭╮ ̩̆)っ Anyway, here it is! Hope my writing will find a place in your heart somehow!

The Confinement, To you, the nurse who loves overstepping her boundaries, be careful and take this warning seriously, or else, the monster that lives under a man’s skin might devour you whole.

Nurse Reader x Prisoner König, hate to love trope.

!! Warning, this story contains: Dub-con/Non-con, Gore descriptions, Death, Poisoning, Manipulation, Obsession, Suicide, Possessive and Controlling tendencies, and Immorality. Heavily NSFW, minors DO NOT interact. Do inform me if I missed any.

!! Proceed at your own discretion

Disclaimer: I only have basic knowledge about prison, and what prison nurses are assigned to do inside its secured walls. The same thing goes for prisoners. Consider this a fictional work based in an alternative universe, only with the same countries, and stuff but with monsters + altered laws and rights to fit the story. So take this as it is, or shoo away. You can give me a few tips so I can take note of them, but please, be kind (｡ •́‿•̀｡ ) This is my first fan fiction, and story so yeah, expect a lot of errors + English isn’t my native language + I don’t speak German and only used a translator for this, so sorry in advance for the migraines my writing could cause you.

Chapter 01: The monster that lives under a killer’s skin.

Word Count: 3.9k

∆. 12:04:55PM of November 24, m. hallway of the prison.

You're a nurse at a maximum-security prison. Providing care for both the staff and prisoners, a right everyone equally has so even if you don't like the idea of aiding murderers, and people of such backgrounds, due to some reason, this is the only job opportunity you can take as of the moment.

Today's actually your first day, so naturally, you're shown around the workplace you now have to get yourself accustomed to.

"Most importantly, don't trust anyone other than the staff. These men are filthy, better not get your hands dirty, know what I mean?" Sir Wagner stated, the disgust in his tone is evident and it's enough to let you know how much he despises the criminals behind the bars of his prison.

Even though you would like to agree with the statement of the prison's head, you can't find it in you to despise the people in the prison as much as he does. You're a little too soft sometimes, and also of contradicting nature that makes you automatically take the opposite side of any argument even when it gains you nothing.

Sensing you won't reply— honestly, he doesn't really care if you'll reply or what, since he just wants to get this over with— the warden decided to conclude that conversation there.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked, a plain tone now as he speak, putting his hands deep inside his pocket.

"None, thank you for showing me around."

You replied in an equally plain tone, also wanting to get over it already like he does. He didn't take it personally, his years as the warden made him professional and collected most of the times. Plus, he understood your unenthusiastic nature at your new job, no one after all would be that happy to work in a prison where they keep high profile criminals.

"Well, that's great then. I'll have Benedikt here assist you while you get accustomed with your new work. Ask him when you need help, and if you have any questions." With a brief glance over to the man on his right, sir Wagner introduced the other guy that unnoticeably joined your group of two along the way.

Benedikt nodded at you when you looked at him, he's got an awkward smile forced on his face as he stretch his arms towards you for a handshake.

"Benedikt MacTavish, nice to meet you," He introduced himself, his hand hanging in the air as he wait for you to reach it.

MacTavish? Doesn’t sound like a local name. You’re glad for that, at least you’re not the only foreigner on your new workplace.

"I'm—"

"Yeah, I remember. Your surname's familiar though, Price, yeah? Are you perhaps related to a military captain?" He casually cuts off your introduction, seemingly eager to know something like he can't hold the question another second longer.

A little taken aback with how he outright talked over you, you were silent for a minute to process that fact and also his question.

"Ah, yes, right," you replied when things finally start sinking in your brain, "Well, he's actually my uncle. How come you know of him?"

Honestly, he's not related to you by blood. He's just your adoptive father's cousin, which makes him your foster uncle if that word even exists. But he doesn't need to know that much about you, what would he even do with the information if you told him?

"Ah, well, my cousin's actually the man's friend. John MacTavish? Soap? Does that ring any bells?"

"Oh, Johnny, yeah, I know the man. What a small world we live in," you smiled after hearing a familiar name, finding the coincidence a bit funny.

Finally, you took Benedikt's hand to shake it, forgetting for a moment that it's still waiting for your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Soap's cousin."

"Nice to meet you, Price's niece," he returned the introduction in the same humor, a genuine smile now plastered over his lips.

"I'll leave you two to it." Sir Wagner interfered and just left you two without another word, which is honestly weird but expected of a man his type.

"Phew, glad I found something common with you, or else it'll be hard to find an ice breaker activity," Benedikt sighed in relief after sir Wagner's finally gone from the scene, "Have you already went to the dorms? Found your room, and all?"

With a shake of your head to answer his question, you wordlessly replied no and looked at him, seeing what he'll say or do.

"Ah, alright, I can show you where it is, then we can start our rounds after. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure, thanks," You answered, your tone is a bit lively now compared to with sir Wagner earlier, since you're like a chameleon who adapts to whichever environment it's in.

You're blue when they're blue, pink when they're pink, red when they're red, and so on and so forth. A firm believer of do unto others what they've done to you. Karma? You rarely put your faith in that, you mostly take things to your hands and be the human version of the word revenge. It's not really cool, in fact, you kind of live harder because of it, but no way your ego would let go of your way of living.

Benedikt started walking, looking at his back every now and then to check if you're still following him as he quietly traversed the halls that should eventually lead to the dorms.

In the middle of your journey, you passed the center of the prison that connects all wings of the building, which means, each transported prisoner would also pass the center before getting to their assigned cell.

The tension in the central building was thick, the air is almost suffocating that it made you freeze on your spot as you try to find the cause of such unnatural atmosphere.

When your eyes landed on the now closing heavy door of the building, your gaze immediately fell to the tallest man in the middle of armed men.

He instantly caught your attention with his tall height, sticking like a sore thumb from the whole crowd.

"Benedikt, you know anything about that man?" You asked in a low voice, curious to find out who he could be, not even tearing your eyes away from the behemoth of a man.

"Ah, shit, today's his transfer, I totally forgot…" He muttered under his breath with a curse, "König, an ex-military guy. Would you believe that today's only his 8th day in prison? Like all prison days combined. He won't behave in any cell he's put in, forcing him to be transferred on new places every other day with how many crimes he commit on each one."

"What??" You uttered in disbelief, taken by a total surprise with the information.

"Yeah, I'm being totally honest right now. It's not normal that a criminal would be transferred from a normal prison to the maximum security because of misbehaving, but guess what? He's committed murder after murder in each base. That's what made him worthy of maximum security prison."

You can just try to press your lips in a thin line, an attempt to hide your disgust. Murderer… The vilest things to exist in this world. How can he live knowing the fact that he's ended a person's life? Oh, how much you loathe them.

You kept a scornful gaze towards his way, throwing daggers as if your stare alone could kill the guy. And of course, it's impossible that he wouldn't feel it, eventually staring back at you.

König, as Benedikt referred him, looked back at you straight in the eyes. Even though there were no holes in the sack that's put on over his face right now, you're certain that he turned his head just to identify who could be burning a hole on his head right now.

You feel like throwing up. Just the thought of breathing the same air as that of a murderer was enough to make you feel nauseous.

"Benedikt, let's go. Bring me to the dorms already." You said, almost pleading as the desperation to get out of his presence faintly showed.

∆. 06:39:07PM of the same day, nurses' office.

"So how was your first round?" Benedikt asked, giving you the canned sparkling water he opened just now.

"Horrible," you replied, taking the canned drink from his hand and downing it quickly.

The drink slid down your throat just like any other liquid, but it's a little painful because of the fact that it's carbonated. You just downed your drink, the bubbles popping on your throat and making you feel like it's burning your insides for a second.

Benedikt gave you a concerned look, but quickly masked it with a soft laugh, "Well, I cannot blame you… Working with criminals isn't exactly the most honorable thing out there. Plus we're understaffed, which makes the workload for each of us actually horrible."

"Yeah, right, that too," you grimaced, feeling more exhausted than how you usually do back when you were just working at the hospital, "I'm sorry Benedikt, my condolences goes to you. You're the most packed nurse here."

He chuckled, "Well, if you're sorry, take some of my patients?" He joked, which earned a laugh out of you.

Before you could even reply, there's suddenly a loud bang in the room and it wasn't a gun, it was the room's door being haphazardly thrown open by a panicking nurse who's also out of breath.

Jane, one of the nurse you've met today.

"Someone! Help! Vanessa! She's– she's wounded! Her eyes! Oh my, heavens, her eyes! We have to sedate König, where's the syringe?!" She started rummaging the room for a syringe and a drug that's supposed to put a person to a deep sleep.

Alerted, Benedikt and you stood up and helped her search for something. When Benedikt got his hand on the drug, he approached Jane and held her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"Jane, calm down, I got it, but first, I need you to take a deep breath. You can't work with panicked nerves." He tried calling in some sense to her, but she won't calm down.

She started screaming, and started getting hysterical.

Jane, and Vanessa, you're pretty sure they got a thing with each other, maybe this is why she's acting inconsolable?

"Give me the syringe and the drug, I'll respond instead," You presented, preferred to sedate a monster rather than calming a stranger down.

Benedikt's got a better knowledge than you do, it’s better you leave them be than be left to console her with words you probably wouldn't mean. At least that's what you thought.

Benedikt pondered for a moment whether you're fit or not to handle the situation, but in the end, he decided to trust you, giving you the things after all, and also telling the number cell of König.

Rushing to the scene, with an emergency kit you grabbed in the office, you wasted no time and ran as fast as you could.

1245. Cell 1245, prisoner 190228. Must hurry up to cell 1245 before it's too late.

Eventually, you reached your destination, and unfortunately for your guts, you were met with a gore scene. There's an emptied syringe poked into one of Vanessa's eyeballs, one of her hands wrapped around the object in fear as she trembles, and cries.

There's also a whole puddle of blood under her, a lot on her white uniform, and mouth. Now that you observe her, she's also shedding tears of blood, her lips tainted red as blood continues to flow out of it.

What the fuck. This scene is fucking horrendous. What happened?

The guards are gathered around König, watchful of his steps, expectant and quite tense as they wait for him to make a move— ready to stop him from causing even more havoc. While he's not moving, König is watching Vanessa bleed on the floor with cold eyes which is honestly more frightening than him causing a scene.

He's fortunately not punching one guard after the other, so you doubt there was a need for sedating him.

Surveying the situation, you decided to change your plans of prioritizing the sedation of König, to aiding Vanessa first.

Without an inch of hesitation, you knelt in front of Vanessa, some blood soaking the edge of your white skirt. You placed the emergency kit beside you, opening it with haste until everything in the kit is visible.

"It's no use!" Vanessa cried, "The poison has–" she then frantically screamed, fumbling a few of her words as she started gagging from her own blood.

Before you could even touch her, she dropped dead on the floor. A sight that will be the reason of your nightmares for days, or weeks.

You were shaken down your core, blood suddenly cold, and heart beating extremely fast out of shock. You feel your body freeze, hands that were supposed to hold her now are hanging mid-air.

"I just saved her years in prison for murder," You heard a man's voice from behind you speak in a thick, and unexpectedly boyish accent.

You can't stop your brows from furrowing, and eyes show contempt at the mere sound of his voice, let alone his words.

"You are disgusting, a vile creature, don't you dare open that filthy mouth of yours." Unable to restrain yourself, you spit each word with venom as you slowly turn around to look at him furiously, "You are the murderer here. Don't confuse it now."

He does not speak. His eyes only staring at you through those 2 small holes on his makeshift mask.

Holding his equally piercing gaze, you stood your ground, rationality has left your body. You're acting on impulse, on your emotions, something a professional shouldn't do in this type of situation but damn, your ego is just some other kind of level. It will definitely put you on your place someday, but you thought that you should just worry about it when that time comes.

"Pathetic human. Too dumb to even think." He finally broke the silence, irritation in his voice.

Before you could even reply, he had already turned his back on you, walking back to his cell on his on will. The guards locked him up quickly after checking on him one last time.

The maximum security prison is totally different from a normal one. It's worse. Because everyone is sworn to confidentiality, no word really gets out on what's happening behind its high walls.

Prisoners in this place are like expendable pawns. The government uses them however they wish, and unsurprisingly, companies too. They have illegal control over some of the prisoners, depending on how much they paid the government for it.

Someone wants König dead, and you're not even surprised that he was already tried to be disposed of first day in. It could be a private company he used to work for, or maybe enemy, it could also be done for personal reasons. Signing up for a job here means you should expect those types of things, that's why you made sure to be adequately prepared over events like this happening during your shift.

If he was a normal person, you would've felt bad for the prejudice you have over him, but he's a convicted murderer– a serial killer at this point, so you believe that he doesn't deserve the benefit of doubt.

"A killer won't get my sympathy. That will be the last thing I'll ever do in this earth," You've uttered, anger never leaving your eyes as you sat still in your place.

∆ . 11:59:31PM of that day, staff dormitory.

With a gasp, you wake up from a shallow sleep, catching your breath as you try to recover from the nightmare you just had.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed repeatedly, frustration and distraught are clearly heard in your voice.

Fortunately, you're the only one in your room, not a shared dorm or anything, or else your hypothetical roommate would've pegged you for a madman.

Why would it be about that now of all days? You said at the back of your mind, frustrated over the dream you just had.

Desperately, you tried to swallow that thought, along with the nightmare. Fortunately, before the memory gets too vivid, the alarm on your wristwatch goes off which pulled you out of the world you’re sucked in.

It's the alarm you set the first time you got it, 12:00AM. Midnight on the dot.

You sat down, trying to calm yourself.

Ah, right, your next shift is at 12:45AM which is just 45 minutes from now. With Vanessa gone, and Jane temporarily dismissed to rest, you had to take the extra shift and give up a few hours of your precious sleep.

That reminds you, have you checked up on König as you were supposed to? Even if you hate him, you still have to do your job.

Shit, now you got to fill his report before anyone even notice or ask for it.

Reluctantly, you got out of your bed and prepared to check in early for your shift, planning to stealthily take the prisoner's record to fill it up, hopefully while no one's around to harshly criticize your tardiness on your first day.

— &

You made it to 1245 cell without any road bumps, luckily. Now all that's left is actually checking up on König which you can just frown about. Before sticking the key in the hole, you took a deep breath and tried to at least look neutral—your working face.

Counting from 1 to 5 quietly at the back of your mind, you collected yourself at 3, steeled yourself at 4, and finally, pushed the iron door open at 5 without giving yourself enough time to hesitate and get cold feet.

This prison gives each prisoner a spacious place to live in almost comfort, with only one person per room. At least that's how they do it in this part of Austria. There are quite a lot of cells after all, so they're not shy on using all of them.

"I'm your nurse, I will be checking up on you so please, sit down." You said with a firm tone, putting the bag on the bedside table where all of the essentials for vital checking should be packed.

Each nurse on duty is required to use the same bag, for both safety, and precaution.

"Ärgerlich schädling," he muttered under his unusual breathy voice which set an alarm in you.

Now that you look at it, the back of his shirt is wet, and he's panting a little. Did you really mess up big time on your first day? Shit, now you have to fix this somehow.

"Prisoner 190228," you read the number assigned to him, printed on the sheet of paper you're holding one-handedly, "I said sit down. I can't check on you properly if you're positioned that way."

It was pathetic really. Your nerves are getting the best of you, and it's hinted on your voice.

“Will nicht,” he grumbled, unmoving and unbothered.

You never really stayed in Austria that long in the past. Only a year or two to finish the last 2 years of your nursing school but your university didn’t require you to speak German so you didn’t bother getting that deep into learning the language. You’re an entry-level speaker at best, but since it’s been years already, you’ve lost that ability and can only guess what he’s saying.

“You will, now hurry up and sit down so we can get this over with.”

“Ich sagte nein, verliere dich.”

“Yes, you will. And please, I would really appreciate it if you speak in English.”

You heard his tongue clicked at that, “Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen!” He groaned, almost sounding like a teenager throwing a tantrum at his bed.

He sat down on his bed after that outburst, you don’t even need to peek under that mask of his to know he’s frowning in annoyance, his eyes alone says it all.

“Awfully late to check up on me now, yeah?” He asked, begrudgingly you think, but you decided not to give attention to it.

“Did the syringe grazed you? Was it injected on you? Or did it find other ways to get into your veins?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“It did not.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am fine, so get lost.” He snapped again, his voice starting to sound like his catching his breath again.

You thought he was grinding his teeth the whole conversation, and now it made sense. He’s holding something back, and it’s probably the pain from the poison, his tone only adds up as an evidence to that.

“You are not. You’re breathless, sweating, and,” your eyes looked all over him, trying to observe his posture, to find proofs to support your claim, “…You’re sweating buckets, and shaking.”

You bit your lips, an attempt to maintain your composure as you try to find a solution.

“I need to see your face, take that mask off,” without a warning, you reached for the edge of his mask— something that you later regretted doing so.

In an instant, he has put you under him, his gloved, big hand is wrapped around your neck while the other one is gripping your wrist that was once the closest to his mask earlier.

He’s fuming in anger, the heat coming off him is immense as if he’s a steam machine. Bodies wouldn’t act normally like this against poison, not this much heat while keeping a great vigor. His body feels so different… something you’ve never seen before.

“Touch my mask once more,” He seethed through gritted teeth, anger evident in his unblinking eyes, “Then I will have to devour you.” He threatened, his hot breath and heavy body touching your skin, “Stubborn maus. Get your ass out of here before it’s too late. I won’t take responsibility for your insanity.”

This marks the end of this chapter.

[A/N: Thank you for reading this far! I'm open to gentle criticisms because my heart can't handle harsh words hsdahfw. I'll try my best to take them positively though! Notice that there are timestamps (like ∆ . and — & with the former being a longer time skip, and the latter a matter of a few minutes difference from the latest indicated time), and locations during an event. I placed them there so there would be less confusion regarding the timeline and when a particular event happened:) I added translations in the last part to keep it realistic too. Like, you're meant to not understand him much whenever he speaks German so yeah. Still, if you're curious what they translate to, the translations will be just down this note. That's all, thank you again! (´｡ • ᵕ •｡ `) ♡]

CHAPTER 01 TRANSLATIONS:

[1]: Ärgerlich schädling, Annoying pest

[2]: Will nicht, [I] don’t want

[3]: Ich sagte nein, verliere dich, I said no, get lost

[4]: Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen, Why should they hire a fucking foreigner at all? I’m fucking tired of speaking that damn language

[5]: Maus, Mouse

[mariacallous]

In 2019, the American chattering class was atwitter about “cancel culture”: The New York Times reported on its popularity among teenagers; in 2020, Harper’s Magazine published “A Letter on Justice and Open Debate,” whose 153 world-renowned signatories—academics, writers, and artists—worried that a lack of “open debate” over police reform and other issues of social and racial justice was yielding to “dogma or coercion.”

Outside legacy media, cancel culture then became part and parcel of right-wing political agendas, with the End Woke Higher Education Act—which passed the U.S. House of Representatives on Sept. 19—marking one of several “anti-woke” initiatives launched by Republican congressional lawmakers.

A heavily reworked version of a 2022 German book, The Cancel Culture Panic by Adrian Daub offers a historical analysis of the so-called cancel culture moral panic that spread from the United States to the rest of the world. Daub argues that cancel culture is but the latest iteration of discussions of political correctness that emerged in the United States during the administration of former President Ronald Reagan.

Daub’s goal isn’t to catalog. Rather, he wants to reorient our attention and demystify fears in the United States, Europe, and elsewhere, as he believes that “[p]eople talk about cancel culture so that they don’t have to talk about other things, in order to legitimize certain topics, positions, and authorize and delegitimize others.”

Ultimately, Daub argues, hysteria over cancel culture keeps “us from finding solutions we desperately need” to widespread problems “of labor and job security,” the “digital public space,” and “accountability and surveillance.”

Daub begins by arguing that accusations of cancel culture obscure a widening gap between the “objective frequency of the phenomenon and its media presence.” Fears of alleged censorship, of excessive identity politics, and of “wokeness” are, Daub says, disproportionate to verified cancellations.

For example, the individuals who are often affected—for instance, professors at U.S. universities—have lost their jobs not because of cancel culture, but a specific academic or professional dispute. One example: “In 2021, Truckee Meadows Community College in Nevada moved to fire [math professor] Lars Jensen, citing two consecutive unsatisfactory performance reviews that accused him of ‘insubordination,’ among other things.” Specifically, Jensen had distributed “fliers at a state math summit that criticized the college’s math standards—a move Truckee Meadows administrators said disrupted the meeting.”

Cases of real “canceling” in America’s colleges and universities are thus in fact quite low; Daub notes, for example, that “[f]or the year 2021,” his research indicates that just a “total of four” professors “experienced what we would likely see reported in the press as a classic cancel story.” This, despite the conservative National Association of Scholars listing hundreds of cancellations.

Daub argues that “the persuasiveness of cancel culture warnings results from the fact that it insists on suddenness while actually drawing on well-established truisms and conventions.” Historically, he links the panic over cancel culture to fears over political correctness, which—reacting to feminism and the diversification of workplaces and universities—spread in the United States in the early 1990s, above all during the administration of President George H.W. Bush.

But Daub identifies a deeper discursive background: conservative narratives, which first emerged in the 1950s, that imagine U.S. higher education—really, the eight universities that make up the Ivy League—as bastions of “anti-Christian” bias and “anti-individualistic” ideologies.

In these narratives, which Daub argues were produced by members of “think tanks and nonprofit foundations set up by wealthy conservative donors” beginning in the 1970s, leftist academics insidiously swap canonical works—by William Shakespeare, Plato, Homer, and so on—with literature supposedly focused on identity and ethnicity, such as Toni Morrison’s Beloved and Alice Walker’s The Color Purple.

Intersecting with this backdrop, a wave of mainstream publications about political correctness’s apparent tyranny in the academy swept through the United States. These presented the concept sensationally, with “the flavor of the courtroom,” even if those presentations were “nowhere near the truth.”

In fact, Daub argues, a certain type of anecdote about cancel culture—imprecise, brief narratives from questionable sources with a punch line—are told as credible and received as plausible. For example: Psychology professor Jordan Peterson once reported in a viral video that a client of his was a bank employee who spoke of how their bank decided to cease using the term “flip chart” because it could be used “pejoratively to refer to Filipinos.”

Particular features of this and other cancel culture anecdotes develop, disappear, or are replaced with new details; in fact, this anecdote has been circulating since the 1990s, and sometimes features a Filipino gang member at a community panel meeting. Regardless, the more frequently that a cancel culture anecdote is referenced and recounted, the more that it gains credibility, and the more that it further inflames the moral panic over cancel culture.

Daub expands his analysis to our age of globalization—one in which, he argues, cancel culture anecdotes have helped produce moral panic in different global settings, becoming invariably linked to particular national issues, discussions, and societal anxieties.

In Germany, fears intersect with the concern that “left-wing censorship” and “identity politics from the left” will culminate, as theorized in political scientist Josef Joffe’s March 2021 Neue Zürcher Zeitung essay, in an imagined violent and wholesale cultural revolution. In the United Kingdom, cancel culture arrived after Brexit and became, in Daub’s assessment, “at least in part a crutch for managing the shambolic aftermath of the decision to leave.”

And if Europeans obsess about U.S. universities, in Russia and Turkey, Daub writes, “the focus is on popular culture and social media.” In March 2022, for example, Russian President Vladimir Putin compared the West’s reaction to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine to the supposed cancellation of Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling for her views on transgender people.

In his conclusion, Daub interrogates how “calls for a defense of liberal values” against critical race theory, the so-called woke campus, or cancel culture in publications such as Le Figaro, the Wall Street Journal, and the Atlantic can morph into—or at least indirectly contribute to—illiberal political-governmental restrictions on speech and institutions.

For instance, following the flurry of articles on cancel culture in 2019, Florida Gov. Ron Desantis signed the Stop WOKE Act into state law on April 22, 2022, and positioned himself as a 2024 presidential candidate in part by whipping up hysteria about cancel culture.

But, more broadly, Daub sees the anti-cancel culture movement as advancing a dark and illiberal vision of institutions and society. For him, “figures like the Le Pens [of France], the Trumps [of the United States], [Austria’s] Jörg Haider, [Italy’s] Silvio Berlusconi, [the United Kingdom’s] Boris Johnson, and [Brazil’s] Jair Bolsonaro … retain a certain conservative institutionalism, while they simultaneously participate in the populist/authoritarian degradation of institutions,” and they do this in part through using the tool of the cancel culture panic.

For these leaders, universities teach junk to students; companies go woke and go broke; the military is weak due to diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts; and experts are politically correct drones. All while casting themselves as liberal and tolerant, these illiberal figures construct straw man arguments from the legitimate concerns of minority perspectives and dismiss them as cancel culture; this allows for the powerful and privileged to reinforce political and social hierarchies, uphold majority rule, and crush opposition.

The fact that the cancel culture panic spread to other countries indicates how U.S. soft power remains operative. Nevertheless, despite Daub’s insights into the moral panic in the United States, Europe, and Latin America, he does not, for example, engage with its occurrence in China, where competitive social media platforms, streaming and video platforms, and state-run media outlets drive a “real” version of “cancellation.”

In 2021, for example, there were a series of high-profile celebrity cancellations in China; some transgressors were imprisoned, others not. The latter group included actor Zhang Zhehan, though, in his case, being “canceled” meant losing work and removal from social media platforms: in August 2021, Zhang was “canceled” because of old vacation photos showing Zhang posing with cherry blossoms, which had been taken in the open park area of Japan’s Yasukuni Shrine, which honors Japanese war criminals involved in the atrocities of World War II.

Furthermore, the intense public concern about cancel culture in the United States seems to have modulated itself. One reason might be related to changes in perceptions about the political alignments of Big Tech and social media companies. According to a 2024 study conducted by the Pew Research Center, Americans are overall inclined to see Big Tech corporations as more aligned with liberal than with conservative views. But these views now run up against the reality of Big Tech’s political donations in this year’s U.S. presidential election. “Silicon Valley,” as reported in The Guardian, “poured more than $394.1m into the US presidential election this year,” and most of that—$242.6m—was given by Elon Musk.

Americans’ perceptions of Big Tech corporations also now collide with how changes in the ownership and operation of Big Tech and social media companies have affected platforms, their attention economy, and the way that they circulate information.

It was announced after Musk acquired Twitter in October 2022—which he claimed to do because he wanted to protect “free speech”—that the rechristened “X” would discontinue its policy prohibiting COVID-19 misinformation; at the same time, algorithm changes led to X’s promotion of false viral information about the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The Center for Countering Digital Hate issued a November 2023 report declaring that 98 percent of misinformation, antisemitism, Islamophobia, and other hate speech vis-à-vis the Israel-Hamas war remained publicly viewable on X after a week of notice was given to the social media site.

Meanwhile, in 2023, Twitter—like Meta and Alphabet, the parent companies of Facebook and Google, respectively—dumped a significant number of its content moderators. While Gizmodo reported in 2016 that Facebook workers routinely suppressed conservative news in the “trending topics” section, a recent study published in Science and Nature showed that “[a]udiences who consume political news on Facebook are, in general, right-leaning.” And as reported in El País, 97 percent of links to what Meta’s fact-checkers deem to be “fake” news “circulate among conservative users.” (It’s fair to wonder whether cancel culture memes figure prominently among these links.)

Cancel culture panic’s newest inflections might also be related to a shift in who seeks to do the “canceling”: Rather than only cultural left—which prompted the era of #TimesUp, #MeToo, and Black Lives Matter—the cultural right also now commands public attention. In 2023, conservatives in America “canceled” Bud Light because of a social media promotion by TikTok personality and transgender woman Dylan Mulvaney, and the new Star Wars TV show The Acolyte, because it centered women and people of color.

Will U.S. citizens become fed up with the ways that Big Tech and social media feed panic on both sides of the country’s political divides? According to the aforementioned Pew Research Center study, large majorities of Americans believe that social media companies as possess too much political power and as censor political viewpoints that they reject.

But political will appears to be lacking in the United States to do much about it. In contrast, in August 2023, the European Union enacted the Digital Services Act, which aims to curb online hate, child sexual abuse, and disinformation.

Still, the panic about leftist cancel culture hasn’t so much faded from Americans’ consciousness as it has transformed. The idea of “wokeness” was the primary axis on which U.S. President-elect Trump oriented his latest campaign rhetoric. “Kamala is For They/Them. President Trump is For You,” voters were told in one prominent anti-woke campaign advert.

Now an anti-cancel culture president and his anti-woke cabinet are chomping at the bit. Stephen Miller, Trump’s nominee to become his Homeland Security advisor, launched America First Legal in 2021, filing more than 100 legal actions against “woke corporations” and others. And Musk, who vowed in 2021 to “destroy the woke mind virus,” along with entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy, who wrote the 2021 book Woke, Inc.: Inside Corporate America’s Social Justice Scam, were named by Trump to lead a department that aims to “delete” aspects of the U.S. federal government deemed too costly.

One shudders at the possibility that other liberal democracies will follow the path of cancel culture panic as far as the United States now has.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Badash at NCRM:

Just days before he will be sworn into office, President-elect Donald Trump is alleging the FBI has been engaging in “corruption,” after learning the Bureau has shut down its “DEI Office,” officially the Office of Diversity and Inclusion. The FBI has a lengthy, ongoing investigation into the January 6, 2021 insurrection and attack on the U.S. Capitol. It also conducted an intensive investigation into Trump’s removal and refusal to return classified documents, including top secret national security materials, and executed a lawful search warrant on Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort and residence to retrieve some of those documents. “We demand that the FBI preserve and retain all records, documents, and information on the now closing DEI Office—Never should have been opened and, if it was, should have closed long ago. Why is it that they’re closing one day before the Inauguration of a new Administration? The reason is, CORRUPTION!” Trump alleged, offering no proof or evidence, in a social media post Thursday evening. Trump pointed to a report from Mediaite: “FBI Shuttered DEI Office Ahead of Trump’s Inauguration.” “While on the campaign trail, Trump stated he would end ‘wokeness’ and ‘leftist indoctrination’ by dismantling diversity programs and imposing fines on colleges ‘up to the entire amount of their endowment,” the Mediaite report reads. “More recently, Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-TN) sent a letter to outgoing FBI Director Christopher Wray stating the agency’s DEI practices ‘endanger Americans.’ Blackburn made those comments shortly after the New Year’s Day terror attack in New Orleans.” The Bureau’s Office of Diversity and Inclusion “was created in 2012 to provide guidance and implement programs that promote a diverse and inclusive workplace that allows all employees to succeed and advance,” according to an archived version of its website. That page, which stresses, “Different backgrounds. One mission,” appears to no longer be accessible from the FBI’s website, and instead forwards to the main page.

Whiny manbaby Trump having a Caillou about the FBI’s Office of Diversity and Inclusion.

[starry-hughes]

paul revere

mat barzal x reader

warnings: angst, angst, and oh more angst

inspired by paul revere by noah kahan :)

summary: a visit to your hometown and a run-in with your ex boyfriend causes memories to bubble up

navigation

You didn’t have many connections to New York City when you moved there. Barely twenty-one years old, you moved out of Coquitlam, securing all the documents to do so as your boyfriend was finally getting his own apartment, no longer living in the basement of an older teammate. The only connection to New York City was Mat Barzal. The two of you met before he left for Seattle. You were the thing, the person, dragging him back every weekend he could. He would take long train rides up to see you, even if it was just for a brief time. 

When you left Coquitlam, your connections left too. Your parents finally sold the house they talked about selling for years. You were grown up and living in another country, and they didn’t need to stay there. They moved back to your dad’s hometown. Your friends, besides Mat, had all gone to university, leaving the town as well, and didn’t spare a look back over their shoulders. 

For a while, NYC was good to you. Mat was playing hockey, and you had started building your way up at your workplace. It was a blissful time. You would wake up next to Mat, he’d leave for practice, and you’d leave for work. You’d come home, help him tie his tie, slip on a jersey in support, and go to his games. When he was on road trips, you would spend the nights on call, despite Anthony Beauvillier groaning in the background every time Mat and you argued about who should hang up first. 

It was good. 

Years later, you’re back in Coquitlam. If your friends were still in Coquitlam, they surely could be asking where the ring on your ring was. Mat had made it abundantly clear when the two of you were younger that he was going to marry you. Everyone expected a big fat diamond ring on your finger, something only his NHL salary could afford. But your ring finger was empty. 

You rented a car for your trip. You weren’t even sure why you were visiting; you needed time away from New York. Work had been crazy, and every first date you were going on wasn’t ending well. The apartment you moved into three years ago still felt empty. Pictures weren’t hung, and the walls remained bare, Mat was in every photo you owned. You couldn’t hang those. 

Mat Barzal would return home every off-season for a couple of weeks. He’d visit with his family, hang out with his friends, and recharge. You knew this about him. Hell, his insisting on visits is what sparked the beginning to the end of your relationship. You just prayed that the city was big enough for the two of you, like New York. 

Your rental car flew by familiar streets and houses you once knew. You wondered who lived in your old house or if your neighbor’s dog was still alive. You dreaded running into Mat, but you were more scared about running into his mom. Nadia Barzal was protective over her son, she would surely be unhappy to see you. You parked the car at a downtown hotel. Remarking the new shops you didn’t recognize. How could so much change in the time you were gone? It had only been eight years…

Mat never understood why you wanted to cut ties with the city so badly. He liked New York, but part of him would always be in Coquitlam. You couldn’t explain it, but you didn’t want to be restricted by county lines. You had built your life up in New York City. Being so far from your family was hard sometimes, but you pushed those feelings away. 

The bar down the street from your hotel was one that Mat and you always talked about visiting but never got around to doing so. Fake IDs were hard to obtain when you were younger, and Mat was a troublesome boy, but he didn’t want to mess up his hockey career for something like a fake ID. You took in the sight of the bar and the unfamiliar people around you in the semi-crowded bar. 

His back was to you when you entered. He was talking to some of his childhood friends who still lived locally. Mat told some stories about his season in New York and his brief injury. You were focused on ordering a drink and finding a seat at the bar. You didn’t even register his infectious laughter that you fell in love with. 

Mat talked about raising kids in Coquitlam. He talked about getting married there. He talked about moving back there after his career ended. Every discussion about moving back there made your throat tighten and your hands sweat. Mat was always trying to drag you back to Coquitlam for visits, and you hated every second of those trips. When Mat proposed, a gesture to save your relationship from completely breaking, you saw a glimpse of living in a town you hated, raising kids you didn’t want, and you couldn’t say yes. You were gone from his apartment a week later. 

Three drinks in, you were getting chatty with the bartender. “Are you from here?” she questioned. You thought for a second, “No. I’m not.” Mat could recognize your voice from miles away. When he saw you, he turned away from his friends to order another beer. His heart stopped and sped up at the same time. The last time he really looked at you, you were pushing away his grandmother’s ring and denying his proposal. “Really? I feel like you’re from here!” The bartender perked up as she handed you your tab. “I’m not from around here.” 

Mat watched as you signed your bill and watched as you dropped the tip into the jar. “I gotta go.” Mat stumbled over his words to his friends, just like he stumbled out of his chair and followed you out of the bar. He didn’t mean to get so angry. But something inside of him sparked, hearing you try to erase your childhood and erase memories from this town. 

“You’re not from here, huh?” he practically barked as he followed you down the street. You flinched at his voice. You knew it was him. You turned and faced Mat. The TV didn’t do him justice. He looked even prettier in person than he did on TV during games. You didn’t even have any defense for yourself. 

Mat didn’t realize how emotional he would get seeing you again. Hearing your words broke him, though. “How dare you say that? We met here. We fell in love here. We lived here for years. And you’re just going to erase that?” he shouted, not caring that he was in public. “We were going to have our family here!” 

“No, Mat, that is what you wanted. My life started in New York, not here. Do you want some prize for being the person to get me to New York? Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I miss us?” 

He would have never expected you to say those things to him. As if his heart wasn’t broken enough, you had completely shattered it again. Mat Barzal had seen you walk away from him once before, and he was watching you do it again. 

Your trip went by in a blur. You kept looking over your shoulder, expecting to see Mat, but he wasn’t there. You drove through town on your way to the airport and the rental car place. You didn’t get emotional about leaving typically, but it was all hitting you for some reason. You felt tears pool in your eyes as you drove by your old house. A flashback of Mat and you kissing for the first time in your yard crossed your mind. You could picture him on your first date, standing nervously on your porch. 

You passed by an old building that used to be an arcade. All you could think about was Mat’s infectious laughter as he beat you in a round of air hockey on your seven-month anniversary. You passed by the road you would have turned down to go to Mat’s house, and you had never wanted to go down that road more. And so you did. 

Mat’s house looked the same. He had paid for renovations. You still wondered if his bedroom window screen was broken from sneaking you in years ago. There were no lights on in his house, it had never felt so dark in this city. It was suffocating. And there were no regrets about leaving. 

For summertime, New York City felt cold. You returned from your horrible visit. Kicking the mail that had been slipped through your door and dropping your bag by the door. You passed by the box of photos of you and Mat that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. You heard his words. You thought about him on one knee and the life you had dangling in front of you. You saw a chain link fence, maybe a white picket fence, an older Mat in this hypothetical vision. A kid or two running around, tripping over ice skates and family dinners. Maybe a cat, no dogs. Mat telling stories of the days in New York, Anthony coming over with his own family, your kids calling him Uncle Beau. Mat being in love with you until his final breath. 

But the dream was left behind and there was no turning back now. 

[kyoongboxi]

Scented Roses —

[Baekhyun AU]

Summary: A baffling series of recent deaths has sent shockwaves through the city, as the mystery continues to terrify the public. Conspiracy theorists speculate that the culprit wasn't human, spreading fear through their chilling speculation.

Little did you know, you would soon find yourself being his next target, which securely got you wrapped around his fingers.

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: suspense, baekhyun is a sexy, possessive vampy 🤫

────────────────────────────Another busy day is approaching before it finally hits the weekend. The street has been busy since the morning as the temperature is dropping down, indicating that summer comes to an end. Some people could be seen walking quickly, their steps deliberate and hurried. Eyes occasionally glancing down at their wrists, afraid that they will not make it on time to their workplace.

And among the sea of passersby, no one seems to notice a non-human existence was currently lurking for his daily meal, blending perfectly with them. The city is in a state of terror in the start of fall, caused by his existence. The police reveal that the corpses discovered display similar characteristics, including being extremely pale and having the blood drained from their bodies.

The news causes the residents to be on high alert, but there is also a growing number of conspiracy theorists online who claim that a blood-sucking monster is responsible for the murders. They even air a live stream every night in an attempt to catch the killer. The internet is filled with speculation and debate, with some people genuinely believing in the existence of such a creature while others dismiss it as nothing more than a myth.

The blood-sucker himself smiled softly, walking in the opposite direction with his head high as the people rushing towards their destination. Baekhyun dressed in his usual attire, this time he styled his hair nicely with his forehead revealed. Fingers clutching the book which hides a razor blade tucked perfectly inside to test his meal.

While mundanes have a limited sense of smell, his was otherwise. He could detect more than just a general scent, he could pick up the aroma of fresh flowing blood. People walk past him, but he hasn't come across someone whose scent stirs up his desire. His senses are alert, looking for that sweet scent that would awaken his deepest cravings.

Until when he walked past a coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet, mundanes scent flared the man's nostrils. He took a deep breath, involuntarily closing his eyes as he inhaled the intoxicating fragrance. His desire was immediately ignited, and his eyes snapped open as he quickly scanned the group of people about to pass him by. It was the scent of a woman that had caught his attention.

And here you were, walking in hurried steps as you struggled to make it to work on time. A pair of earbuds attached into your ears, providing a distraction from the anxiety that often gripped you due to the heavy traffic by blasting your favorite playlist. As you hastened along, losing in your own thoughts and the music playing in your ears, you accidentally collided with someone walking in the opposite direction.

Your hurried steps and the unexpected impact caused one of your earbuds to slip out of your ear, and when you bent down to grab it, your eyes noticed a trickle of blood seeping from your wrist. "Oh shit— you're bleeding"

The voice of a man you had collided with came to your ear, and before you could even react, he quickly grabbed your wrist and attached his mouth to it with a light suction. The unexpected action caused you to freeze in place, the sounds of the bustling street and the music fading into the background as people walked without paying attention.

You finally snapped out of your daze and hastily pull your hand back, apologizing for your hurried steps. "Sorry—I'm in a hurry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed and still overwhelmed by the situation.

But before you could even wonder how your wrist got the small cut, the man quickly shut off your thoughts, as if he knew what you were about to ask. "Sometimes paper can cut through the skin like a sharp knife. I apologize"

Baekhyun lifted his book, the edge of its paper now stained with a bit of your blood. He lowered his head slightly, offering an apology for causing you any discomfort. You nodded slowly in acknowledgment, silently accepting his apology before putting your earbud back in and continuing on your way. Shaking your head, tried to shrug off the strange encounter of his behavior.

Meanwhile the man remained in place, blue eyes watching your figure walk away. His grip on the book tightened until his knuckles turned white, almost crumbling the pages with his inhuman strength. He stood there, completely still as passersby bustled around him.

His heart pounded with a fierce desire coursing through his veins, the memory of her sweet blood and tantalizing scent lingering on his tongue. The taste awakened a desire within him, and he found himself replaying the same sentence over and over in his mind - he had to get you in his arms.

────────────────────────────

Baekhyun spent the day consumed by his thoughts about the taste of your blood, which seemed to linger in his mouth longer than he imagined it would. He retreated to the sanctuary of his mansion, hidden away somewhere in the city.

In his chair, he leaned back with eyes closed, feet propped upon the table, his heeled shoes tapping against the glass surface. Baekhyun struggled to control the growing hunger and intense yearning that consumed his own, his mind constantly replaying the moment he had tasted your blood.

"I have never tasted such a delicious one like you.." He whispered to himself, his thumb gently tracing his lips, gently gliding over the sharp points of his canines. It was a constant challenge for the man to keep his fangs hidden every time he ventured out, and it was quite a discomfort.

As the night crept over the city, Baekhyun had effortlessly discovered where you live. He now stood outside your apartment building, his hands idly tucked into his pockets calmly. His icy blue eyes glinted in the dim light as they scanned upwards, locking onto the high floor where you resided while the street lay hushed and quiet, as most mundanes had retired to their beds in search of their daily rest.

Despite his ability to take the direct route through the air, Baekhyun actually loves to do mundane things. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor, quietly twirling a red lollipop in his mouth as he did so.

His once perfectly neat hair was now loose, slightly concealing his forehead, and he donned his favorite black silk dress shirt to meet his special guest. Several buttons were artfully unbuttoned, revealing a tantalizing view of his sculpted chest with a glimmering silver necklace hanging from his neck.

With purposeful strides, Baekhyun stepped out of the elevator and made his way down the hallway before halted in front of your door. The intensity of your scent grew stronger, filling his senses and stirring his desire to feed. He inhaled deeply, followed by a soft sigh. The man gripped the handle, gently prying the door open, trying his best not to make too much sound.

The sweet and intoxicating scent that greeted him as the door swung open sent a subtle dizzying sensation through Baekhyun's senses. He stepped inside, closing the door silently behind him, not bothering to remove his shoes. However, his steps were abruptly halted when he stepped on something— a pair of men's shoes. His expression darkened slightly.

"Ah fuck..." An intense wave of jealousy washed over him at the thought of you belonging to someone else. The sheer idea of a mere mundane having the privilege of holding a sweet precious human being like you ignited a fire of possessiveness in his heart.

But Baekhyun's uncertainty began to linger, he could only detect your sweet scent wafting through the room. There was no trace of anyone else, nor the scent emanating from the pair of shoes. He frowned then, finally taking another step further as he deliberately tossed his lollipop into the pair of shoes, shrugging his shoulder.

As Baekhyun walked through the living room, his feet automatically stopped by its own as the corner of his eyes caught a small photo frame sitting on the table. The man backtracked, making sure of what he just saw.

He crouched down then, picking up the frame and letting out an irritated frown as he eyed the photo. It showed a photo of you, kissing a man's cheek that he had never encountered before. And without thinking twice, Baekhyun walked into the glass door which leads to the balcony, throwing the frame away into the night air.

Baekhyun let himself settle on the couch as the moon lights illuminating his features. Attempting to soothe his growing anger because he feared he might completely lose control once he saw you.

Several minutes ticked by as the night deepened, and Baekhyun finally eased the door open, quietly entering your bedroom. The sweet fragrance of your presence hung heavily in the air, and he found himself smiling at the peaceful sight of you asleep.

Your soft lips were slightly parted, and the hem of your nightgown had ridden up slightly, revealing a glimpse of your creamy thigh. The blanket was bunched up around your waist, picturing an innocence and vulnerability, just the way he liked it.

He observed the small bandage on your wrist as a slight of guilt fluttering in his chest for causing you any discomfort earlier. The man quietly approached your sleeping form, softly seating himself on bed beside you. He delicately touched your cheek with his knuckles, the cool metal of his rings slightly brushed over your skin.

Slowly, he gently moved your hair, exposing the smoothness of your neck, the veins beneath the skin now fully visible. His icy blue eyes are fixated on the sight, the veins pulsing as if calling him to come closer. Out of his control, his tongue involuntarily grazed over his sharp canines, anticipating the taste he longed for since the beginning he met you.

Feeling the bed dip slightly and a gust of cool air brushed against your exposed neck, you stirred from your peaceful sleep. Your eyes fluttered open as a small frown formed in your forehead. Confusion flashed through your mind as you gradually saw the presence of someone sitting on the bed beside you, and your eyes widened in surprise.

Your body reflexively tensed, immediately flooded with adrenaline. In a quick decision, you scooted away and leaped out of the bed, attempting to flee from the stranger, but the blanket tangled around your waist hindered your escape. Causing you to stumble and let out a yelp before falling heavily into the ground. The impact of the fall sent a jolt of pain through your body, leaving you momentarily disoriented and vulnerable.

"Fuck.." A soft curse slipped past your lips as you lay on the floor, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to bear with the pain that go straight up through your body.

"I'm not responsible for that. You did that to yourself" He taunted, his voice dripping with a hint of mockery as his slight chuckle filled the air. You gasped, eyes widening as a pointed shoe suddenly appeared in your line of sight, not knowing his movement.

Despite the lingering pain from the fall, you hastily pushed yourself up, scooting back until you felt the solid frame of the bed press against your lower back. Your heart thumped loudly within your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as your eyes widened with terror.

The ethereal moonlight streaming through the window enhanced his appearance, highlighting every sharp angle, emphasizing his otherworldly beauty, giving you a clearer view of himself.

He approached you with deliberate steps, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he purposely revealed his sharp canines. The sight of his fangs sent a chill down your spine, and your body tensed involuntarily as you pressed further into the solid frame of the bed, attempting to create as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Baekhyun chuckled softly as he lowered himself to a crouching position in front of you. "Yeah, it's been me all along," he confirmed, his icy gaze fixed on you in his droopy stares.

"Don't kill me" Your voice trembled as you whispered your plea, a single tear that escaped and rolling down your cheek as the fear etched on your pretty face.

"No, sweetheart. Trust me, I won't." His voice was steady and soft as he responded. He reached his hand out, gently wiped the tear away from your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. His gesture alone carried a mix of comfort and an underlying possessiveness.

"What makes you to make up the lie about the shoes and the pictures?" Baekhyun inquired further, his fingertips gently moving through your hair as he tucked it behind your ear. Your eyes were brimming with tears, silently threatening to spill over at second.

The man's gaze lingered on the small bandage around your wrist as he asked another question, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and demand. "Who has been bothering you so you have to make up such a lie, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" His touch was gentle as he lifted your wrist, softly caressing the bandage with his thumb. Baekhyun lifted his head, his intense gaze locking onto your own frightened one as he firmly declared, "I'll protect you from now on. You're safe with me."

With a swift but deliberate movement, he peeled the small bandage from your skin, causing the hidden wound to be exposed once more. Fresh blood trickled out, bringing a wince of pain to your face as your body instinctively reacted to the sudden sensations.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, a mixture of pain and helplessness filled you as you realized the extent of your own fragility. Your zero attempts to pull your hand away from his grasp only served to highlight how powerless you truly were in this moment.

Baekhyun tightened his grip on your wrist, deliberately applying pressure to the open wound. Fresh blood welled up from the cut once more, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. Without hesitation, he swiped his thumb through the blood, coating it in your own blood.

His actions were deliberate and slow as he smeared your own blood across your lower lips with his thumb. Baekhyun's watchful gaze followed the path of his thumb, his eyes intently focused on the way the blood spread across your lips with his mouth slightly agape.

Blue eyes filled with an intense look as he observed the crimson liquid coating your lips. After a moment, he slowly pulled his thumb away, leaving your lips stained with a hint of crimson.

Your mind was frozen in shock as you struggled to comprehend his bold action. The tears continued to well up in your eyes, a clear sign of terror showed on your face. You desperately shook your head, silently pleading with him to stop, but he seemed to completely ignore your silent plea. Baekhyun moved his head closer, closing the distance between the two of you until he leaned in, his cold breath now falling upon your skin.

The man then lunged forward, pressing his lips firmly against yours. A deep, guttural growl rumbled within his chest, finally giving in to the craving that had consumed him throughout the day. His eyelids fluttered shut as he cherished the moment.

He shifted one hand to cradle the back of your head, holding you firmly against him as the kiss deepened. His tongue eagerly explored your mouth, ensuring that no trace of the precious blood was left behind as he savored the metallic taste.

Your fingers tightly grasping the blanket laying beneath you, tears keep silently streaming down your face as you struggled to process the conflicting mix of terror and inexplicable feelings that consuming you.

He finally pulled away ever so softly, his icy gaze held your's tear-filled in captivity, locking you in place. "Forget everyone but me— anyone else will be boring"

"Don't you ever look back to someone else, alright?" Each word he whispers brushed lightly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. And you find yourself nodded your head helplessly, realizing the way he had cast a spell over you.