#Miguel Forte

[insidekatmind]

Part.3

Part.4

Cho Sang-Woo P.1, P.2

Hector Fort

Qimir

Kwon Jae-Sung

Berlin (Song Jung-ho)

Kang Dae-Ho

Lee Myung-gi

Nicholas Chavez

Marc Guiu

Joao Felix

Axel Kovačević

Sensei wolf(Feng Xiao)

Miguel Diaz

Lucas paqueta

Riccardo Calafiori

[biostatprof]

Big splash

[mikyapixie]

20 years ago today

Maya & Miguel

premiered on PBS Kids!!!

My god my childhood just came back with this because I loved this show!!!

[vhstown]

drew them real rubbish at the back of my chemistry results table 😁 say hi to my equally incapable desi spidersonas

[ask-fiona-and-the-koopa-family]

İ'm proud we're family

miguel proud to be héctor's family, it's same for héctor

just a fanart of great great grandpa hugging his great great grandson

héctor and miguel goes to Coco

art goes to me

⚠️ don't steal it without my permission or leave a hate comment ⚠️

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 2

『Wanna see you, wanna see you but I gotta resist』

Disparities Between Our Souls You and your husband fight the anomaly in your home-universe while attempting to avoid the gaze of your family Disclaimer(s): Fight scenes are definitely not my forte and Damian is the only batfam with a proper screen time in this

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

You felt the wind on your body was you swung across the city towards the anomaly. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried to clear your mind of your racing thoughts. In the corner of your eye, you see the familiar red of Miguel’s laser webs and you were able to fully focus on your task at hand and not your future problems.

Once the Doc Ock finally made his way into your full view, it was certain that he was anomaly. He looked like he came out of a steampunk movie, a stark difference to the modernity of Gotham.

You two went with your usual plan, Miguel would distract the villain of the day while you would transport the civilians or at least warn them. You made quick work transporting the citizens away from the expected vicinity of the fight.

You made your way back to your husband after dropping off the final citizen to safety. You were greeted to the sight of multiple pairs of mechanical arms reaching for Miguel as he avoided them with ease. You made eye contact with him, another silent agreement made between you two.

You shot a web towards the Doc Ock, taking his attention away from your husband, his rage now aimed at you. His barely coherent shouts weren’t a deterrent to you as you taunted him. While he was distracted with you, Miguel had easily snuck up on him and punched him square in the face.

But that wasn’t enough to take him down, it was never that easy. He was quick to get back on his feet and reach the tentacles out at both of you. You and Miguel jumped in sync, shooting a web at either side of the anomaly. You delivered a quick kick to the stomach and back flip out of the way before Miguel prepared to deliver another blow.

The fight felt almost one-sided, with the Doc Ock barely landing his punches on either of you. But this was good, the faster you finished this, the less chances that one of Gotham’s vigilantes would see you.

The comms were unusually quiet tonight, so Damian definitely wasn’t surprised to hear that a new villain was out to make a name for himself in Gotham. He was quick to move to the scene of the crime, but what he saw was something definitely not expected.

Two figures were fighting with this new villain— which speaking of, looked out of place in Gotham. The two new heroes were wearing skin-tight suits with an animal theme, specifically spiders, not unusual for heroes.

They moved expertly around the offender. like dancing around a ballroom. In fact, Damian had stopped himself from interrupting their fight in fear of ruining the clear rhythm they had together. Their moves were calculated, landing their punches and mostly avoiding getting hit themselves. These were not some vigilante or hero-wannabes. No, they were trained, their experience clearly showing through their movements, the way they took down the rogue with little to no difficulty. They fought with him as if they had gone head to head multiple times, moving as if they could read his mind.

“Robin, what’s the hold up?” Barbara’s voice snapped out of his daze. He remained silent for a few more seconds, attempting to examine the figures more closely and find out their identities. The villain itself was certainly going to be easily identified, with his face not even being covered. However, the two others would be harder. Not a single patch of skin was left uncovered.

“Oracle, does there happen to be two heroes that have been operating under our radar for a while? Say, for at least 2 years?”

“No way, that’s basically impossible.” Barbara said, in disbelief of the implication of Damian’s words.

“Apparently it is. There’s two people fighting against the rogue and they’re handling themselves pretty well. It’s almost as if it was the norm for them.”

“Hm… Let them handle the problem then. Follow and investigate them when they finish.”

“Duly noted.”

He stayed perched high above, watching and studying the two as best as he could. When the fight finally finished, he watched the two wrap the now unconscious rogue in a web-like substance and inject him with a liquid. They spoke to each other before one of them picked up the villain. The other swung in front of them, as if they were leading the way to some place. Damian stalked after them, making sure to stay as close as he could without getting noticed.

He was surprised to find that the one leading knew their way around Gotham, like they had gone past these streets multiple times. The place they ended up in seemed oddly familiar to Damian, but he wasn’t able to pin point what it reminded him of.

He watched as one of them pressed the doorbell hesitantly. When it opened, Damian was finally able to reason why this place seemed so familiar. It had been the place that you grew up in. The face of his only blood sibling’s aunt was practically engraved in his head after you had gone missing 5 years ago. Your aunt had called and visited the manor almost every day for a year after you disappeared. Now she was standing next to an opened door.

While you and the rest of the family hadn’t always been on good terms, they still cared for you and tried everything they could to find any traces of you, including Damian himself, albeit, a bit reluctantly. While they still hadn’t given up, the hope in finding you was slowly dwindling. After all, if the world’s greatest detective couldn’t find their own child, the who could? Your aunt had been distraught when she was given the news that you were basically a cold case.

So imagine his and your aunt’s surprise when he sees your face after one of the figures pulled off their mask. It wasn’t identical to the face he last saw 5 years ago, there were a few minor changes, like new scars, and you definitely looked older, but hew knew it was you. You had the same smile, the one he was greeted with when he was first introduced to the manor, the same one he always rejected because you were bound to be a liability with your softness.

Clearly, Damian’s assumptions were wrong. Clearly, you were able to not only defend yourself, but also other people, as shown form the fight he witnessed not even 20 minutes ago.

He was dumbfounded. You disappeared for 5 years and now you come back, suddenly having extensive knowledge in the battlefield, with another person fighting alongside you. He had so many questions. Where did you go? Who was this other person? Why return only now? But those weren’t the most important matter at hand. Right now, he had to inform the rest of the family about your status.

“Oracle, open communications to the whole group.” He could hear the words of the other members in his ears.

“Robin, report.”

“I’ve found the identity of one of the vigilantes.”

“Well? Why is it so important that the whole group had to listen?”

“It’s [Name].”

The silence was even more deafening than the usual chatter.

You stood in the aftermath of the battle, rubble everywhere. Bruce would probably pay to fix this later. Thankfully, the civilians got your warning and didn’t wander back into the vicinity of the fight, but you didn’t expect anything less from the citizens of Gotham.

You called out your husband’s name, catching his attention.

“I have a place we can go to. The person that owns it is someone I’ll trust with my life, don’t worry.” You shot down any possibility of arguments as soon as you could. Miguel grunted in response, injecting his venom into the anomaly before pinking it up and carrying it like a football under his arm.

“Lead the way.” You shot a web towards the roof of a tall building and started swinging in the direction of the place you grew up in, your aunt’s house.

Your nerves started acting up again. What would you aunt think of the new you? You may look the same but you weren’t the same person you were 5 years ago. So much has happened, what if she doesn’t approve of you? Or worse, not even recognise you?

You walked up to the door you knew all too well. Your mind raced with so many negative thoughts. In the moment, the realisation hit you like a train wreck. There was a chance that she didn’t even live here anymore; a lot can happen in 5 years, you would know.

You held up your hand to the doorbell, the one that you made her install after you moved into the manor. But instead of pressing it excitedly like you used to do all those years ago, your hand stood still right in front of it, as if your hand had been frozen.

“Mi corazón, it’ll be alright. Didn’t you say you trusted this person with your life?” Miguel’s words put an ease to your nerves. You smiled gratefully at him before taking a deep breath and pressing the doorbell.

The time it took for the door to open felt like centuries, but when it did, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Your aunt’s face was as beautiful as ever, aged but beautiful nevertheless.

The exhaustion and confusion was evident on her face when she greeted you.

“Hello? What do you need?” The cautionary tone and her rigid stance hurt your heart a little bit, but you couldn’t blame her, she lived in Gotham after all.

“Auntie. It’s me.” Her eyes softened when she heard you voice. When you pulled your mask off, you could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“[Name]?” She asked, full of doubt, but a hint of relief as well. You smiled warmly at her.

“In the flesh.” You let out a small chuckle. Next thing you knew, a pair of arms enveloped your torso. You heard and felt your aunt’s sobs on your shoulders. You hugged her tightly in return, a few tears of your own rolling down your cheeks. When she let go, you instantly missed her warmth, but you pulled yourself together and prepared yourself for the myriad of questions you were bound to be bombarded with.

“Where have you been?!” Yep, you were correct.

“It’s a long story.” You looked to Miguel for help, but unfortunately for you he only smiled at your misery and on top of that, your aunt had seen the small interaction.

“We have all the time in the world. At least answer who this man is at first.” With that, you aunt allowed the two of you, and also the anomaly, inside her house.

Miguel placed the Doc Ock down gently, in fear of destroying any of your aunt’s items. He fixed his posture and adjusted his hologram suit to reveal his face ad he introduced himself.

“Hello. I’m Miguel O’hara, [Name]’s husband.”

“What?!” You expected this reaction. “[Name]! What have you been doing these last few years without me?!”

“Like I said, it’s a long story. It’s better if we get comfortable first.”

“Fine. You better explain everything, especially that… thing over there.” She pointed to the Doc Ock on the floor of her living room. As she did, he glitched, momentarily shocking your aunt.

“We will, don’t worry.”

...

After a long conversation and Miguel occasionally reinjecting the anomaly with his venom, your aunt was finally caught up with your life.

“So, let me get this right. You’re a superhero, alongside your husband, and you two use those watch things on your wrists to help you but they’re broken, which is why you’re here.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Why didn’t you visit me once? Will I ever see you again when they’re fixed?” Your aunt asked dejectedly. Your heart broke at her words. You had just learnt that although your other family had been providing her with money, she chose to stay here to preserve the memories she had with you and you mother, when she was alive. She also still had hope that one day you would return to her, and so she waited expectantly everyday for you, which ended up being worth it, for you were here in her house again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to. Like I said, this return wasn’t even planned. I’ll try to come back when we fix our gizmos, but it’s not a guaranteed chance that we’ll figure it out.” Your aunt visibly deflates at your words.

“Well, if what you want is to return to your new home, then I’ll do my best to help you. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, sweetheart.” A new wave emotions passed through you at her words. You truly were lucky to have her as your aunt. You smiled at her and pulled her into another hug.

“Your the best family anyone could ask for. I love you so much.” Your words were shaky and mumbled as your poured your emotions out. Your aunt hugged you back, patting your back as you hiccupped onto her shoulders.

“I love you too.” She reaches her arm out towards Miguel. He seemed taken aback before hesitantly joining in the group hug. You couldn’t help but mentally laugh as you felt his stiff arms surround the both of you. Your aunt was the first to break apart from the group, with you and Miguel following soon after.

“Now, what do you need to fix that watch of yours?”

Taglist

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @yaoizee @bat1212 @mybones537 @cim0nnin @ninihrtss @redkarmakai @a-lurking-fae @1abi @lettucel0ver @leeiasure @chericia @yotokx @amber-content

Asks are greatly appreciated as they give me motivation and ideas <3

And Chapter 2 is finally done! I really don't like how it ended, I feel like it was a bit too cheesy but oh well, the pen writes what it wants to write, not me

The aunt was never supposed to play this big of a role in the story but apparently she does now! If you guys want a name for her, let me know and I'll make a poll for everyone to decide

Also I lowkey wanna change the layout of my posts but I'm not sure, so let me know if you guys want me to

Sorry this came out so late, I got busy on the weekends and I thought I had time to do it in school but school's honestly been pretty bad. So far, I only understand like 3 of my subjects and that's cuz 2 of them are revision and the other is literature

You guys know the routine! Mistakes are free to point out and will be fixed as soon as possible

This weeks title comes from the song 'Cabo' by Rick Montgomery, go give him a listen if you haven't already!

[improbable-outset]

for an angst/whatever else Miguel fic

what about an inexperienced reader who has a shitty bf and he makes a cruel joke at her expense in front of people, including miguel, who's her boss and later or something miguel comments on it to her and it can either lead to smut or fluff, your choice 💓

Hi anon, thanks for the request. I might’ve gone a little carried away with this one heh…

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐞

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Toxic relationship, Manipulative and controlling behaviour, humiliation, alcohol consumption, unresolved pinning 👀, fluff and comfort, intimate tension.

𝐀/𝐍: WE ARE SO BACK. While writing this, I’ve discovered that writing toxic characters is actually kinda fun and amusing, especially with dialogues

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: During a company dinner party, you find yourself humiliated by your current boyfriend. Seeking some escape, you confide with your boss, Miguel, whose support reveals some hidden emotions you’ve buried.

Your reflection stared back at you blankly as you fixed the strap of your dress for the umpteenth time. Despite the dress fitting you perfectly, you couldn’t stop yourself from anxiously adjusting it— even if there was nothing to fix.

Social events were always outside of your forte but you wanted to put yourself out there, especially given the fact that it was an event from your work.

You wanted to look your best for tonight and make yourself as presentable as you could, leaving a lasting impression outside of the work environment.

You quickly patted the beads of sweat that were forming from your forehead before touching up on your makeup.

“Are you ready?” A male voice called out from outside the room. Your chest clenched slightly, a sudden sense of urgency washing over you.

“Almost,” there wasn’t much for you to do now but you didn't want to leave the house just yet.

Not a moment passed before Adam stepped in the room. He had a tone build and wore a dress shirt with contrasting dark pants for the occasion. His hair was combed back and he was growing out a stubble that gave a charming feature to his look.

Adam’s held his gaze on your form, eyeing you and your outfit. You felt a tinge of self consciousness until you saw a small amused smile on his face.

“What?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing,” he stated, his line of sight still sweeping over you. “You look phenomenal, as usual.”

The compliment made your chest warm. You met Adam through a mutual friend at work. Before you got together, you were typically more reserved and kept conversations with everyone to a minimum.

But Adam would always try to spark a conversation with you, even when you gave him one worded answer. He even tried to invite you to socials outside of work with your other co-workers in an attempt to get you to open up.

Though you knew it was only an excuse for him to get to know you and to get your attention, even if it was just disguised as a regular polite conversation. Eventually you caved in to him and a few friendly conversations later, he asked you out.

You took another look in the mirror. There was something missing in the look. You reached over to your vanity drawer and pulled out one of your favourite lipstick shades before putting it on.

Adam leaned over to see your reflection in the mirror and frowned. “Oh…are you wearing that shade of lipstick again?”

You turned to look at him. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said simply, his tone casual but the words stinging like a slap. It was one of your favourite lipsticks, a shade you thought complimented you well. No one had ever said otherwise.

“Really? Everyone has said that it matches with my complexion,” you arched your brow in confusion to disguise how bothered you were.

“Well, I’m telling you that it doesn’t look good on you,” he further added. All the reassurances you felt from the compliment you received was replaced with a dull ache.

“I wore it on our first date and you said that you loved it.”

You remembered you were feeling nervous and thought you didn’t look good enough. But Adam reassured you that you look beautiful and that was enough to lift your mood throughout the entire date.

But after hearing his comment just now, you didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“I said I liked the outfit, not the lipstick specifically,” he corrected.

“Should I take it off then?” Reluctantly, you picked up a tissue from the box with trembling hands, ready to wipe it off your lips.

Adam didn’t reply, instead looking at his watch impatiently.

“Look, we need to leave now if we want to avoid the traffic. Meet me in the car in five minutes,” he instructed, completely dismissing your question before leaving the room abruptly, now driven by urgency.

Just to save yourself from hearing him point it out again, you wiped off the lipstick from your lips. However, before you left the room, you packed the lipstick in your purse. A small act of defiance.

As you made your way to the car, you saw Adam fumbling with the glove compartment from the passenger side. Whatever he was looking for, he managed to find it and keep it hidden from your view before you could open the passenger side door.

You stepped in and buckled yourself up before you closed the door behind you. Unintentionally, you closed it harder than you intended, causing Adam to jolt in response.

“Hey, hey easy with the door babe-” he reprimanded, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“What?”

“Are you trying to break the car?” He tried to lighten the mood with a small smirk but failed— his feeble lightheartedness faded like over washed denim.

“I didn’t slam it that hard.” You quipped back.

Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could tell that he didn’t want to dampen the mood and argue about this, especially now.

Defuse the spark before it gets ignited.

This wasn’t the first time you fought about something trivial. He left the argument hanging and pulled out a small box.

So this was what he was getting from the glove compartment…

“Here, I got this for you,” His voice switched like a flipping coin, as he opened the box to reveal a necklace. Your eyes widen, taking in the sight of the jewellery that glistened under the low lighting in the car.

The necklace was a silver chain with a pendant that matched with the dress you were wearing. He took the necklace out of the cushion packaging and gestured for you to come closer.

“Come here. Let me help you put it on,” he said. You leaned forward so he could reach the back of your neck.

His fingers grazed on your skin as he fastened the clasp, an act that felt almost too intimate given the recent tension. The coolness of the metal brushed against your neck.

“It’s beautiful. But what’s the occasion?” You asked, one of your hands reaching to touch the pendant. It sat on your neckline perfectly.

“Do I need a motive to give you a gift? I thought these things would be more spontaneous if they came from the heart,” he said as he put on the car's ignition. The engine hummed to life and Adam drove off the driveway with one hand on the wheel.

The car was bathed in his cologne smell. It wasn’t his usual signature scent that he used everyday. This has a spicy undertone to match the occasion, though you preferred his usual scent to this. The aroma seemed to cling into the air and linger long after he sprayed it. You didn’t want to admit that it was too strong for your liking.

You cruised through the streets smoothly and watched as you passed each building and property. Adam glanced over at you from the corner of his eyes, lingering for a moment before he spoke.“You know, I hope you can handle yourself tonight.”

His eyes went back on the road, leaving you perplexed from his comment. Did he think you needed babysitting?

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately.” He said, teetering with the edge of criticism before he continued. “Don’t you think you should be a bit more sociable at these events? It’s not a good look to be the quiet one in the corner,”

You frowned at that. You knew that navigating through small talks wasn’t your strongest suit but you didn’t need him to tell you how to act. It felt patronising.

“Are you seriously concerned about that? I always preferred to let my work speak for itself.”

“But this isn’t another day in the office, this is a dinner party,”

“I think I’ll be fine,”

“We’ll see,” There was an edge to his response that made your gut twist.

The car fell quiet between the two of you, with the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional honks from passing cars.

Adam broke the silence again, desperate to kill the awkward tension that he had caused. “So, are you looking forward to the event at least?”

“Yeah, it should be interesting. I don’t think they’ve done anything like this before,”

“You’re right,” he said “It might be the new HR coordinator they hired. Seems like they’re trying to make a good first impression.”

Your destination was coming into view now. The venue where the event was taking place was not too far from the main facility building, making it convenient for the employees that were attending.

It was the company’s 25th anniversary so there were a lot of guests attending, which also meant the car park outside the venue was packed. Adam had to drive around the block— you didn’t miss the annoyed scowl on his face— before he found a decent spot to park.

After killing the engine you both stepped out of the car and made your way to the gate. The entrance was dotted with recessed floor lights, highlighting the pathway along with flowers that adorned the grass area.

You recognised a few of your colleagues from your department. It was refreshing seeing them outside of their work attire and in more festive wear.

Stepping inside, you were first introduced to the complimentary drinks before the main hall that was beautifully decorated. The sound of heels clicking and glass clinking bounced off the walls. The company really went far out to organise this, and you had to admit, you were impressed.

The tension from the car ride still lingered in your mind, but you were determined to make the best of the event, despite the rough start. The buzz in the room helped you forget about your unease.

As you padded further into the room, you spotted a few familiar faces from your department. Jess, one of your closest coworkers and best mentor you’ve had, caught your eye and approached you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey, glad you two could make it,” she greeted you.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Adam replied.

Jess leaned in for a hug, and you returned with air kisses on each cheek. She stepped back to admire your outfit. “You look incredible. That dress looks so good on you, girl.”

A sense of gratitude washed over you at that. “Thanks, Jess.”

“We’ve saved you a space on our table at the back,” she said before you all made a beeline through the throng of people.

As you made your way to your seats, you caught sight of Miguel, your boss, from the corner of your eye. You turned your attention over to him momentarily, while still following Adam and Jess towards the back.

His height and physique naturally drew attention. Or maybe it was the way he had presented himself tonight. You didn’t know what it was that made him seem more alluring.

His outfit wasn’t vastly different from what you would normally see at work. He wore a well-fitted blazer that accentuated his form.

It wasn’t tight enough to show off his bulging muscles overtly, but it wasn’t loose either. A balance of both, maintaining a modest look that still seemed to draw wondering eyes.

Adam pulled out a chair for you, an unexpected show of chivalry, before taking his own seat. You couldn’t help but pick up on his charms and how his mannerism was a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor back in the car.

You and Jess caught up and chatted for a while. You twisted your body so you could fully face her but as you did, your elbow accidentally knocked over a glass of water. If it weren’t for Adam’s quick reflexes and catching it before it tipped over, the water would’ve spilled all over you.

“Careful babe, that would’ve been a disaster,” Adam said with a hint of concern.

You still felt your nerves spiked from the small shock but it was quickly relieved when Adam placed the glass safely away from the edge. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see that glass there,”

He peered at you with an unreadable expression. You had an uncomfortable feeling that he was going to say something condescending but you couldn’t tell.

A sly smile played on his lips. “It’s alright, babe. Hey, do you remember when you spilled coffee all over the table during your interview?”

You felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. That was a moment you would rather forget, especially in front of the people you work with every day.

You noticed a few of your colleagues at the dinner table glancing over at you. Their eyes felt like lasers, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them.

“Did she really do that?” You heard one of them asked, you didn’t want to find out who.

You felt a hint of irritation that they didn’t address the question directly at you. It was as if you were invisible, a subject of gossip.

Adam let out a chuckle before he said, “Yeah, I’m surprised she even got the job after that. If it were me, I would’ve been too embarrassed to show my face again,”

You could feel multiple eyes on you as Adam recounted the story. This wasn’t something that you would like to share with anyone else, so you didn’t understand why Adam was telling everyone as if he were sharing an amusing anecdote. It felt like betrayal.

It had taken you a while for you to open up to Adam enough for you to share some embarrassing stories like that. Knowing that he was going to share them like an open book so casually felt like an icy grip around your throat.

Despite your silence and reluctance to look at everyone, Adam seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Either he was ignoring you, or was blinded by his bravado to even notice. Jess managed to see your change in demeanor and how quiet you were all of a sudden.

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” she suggested, placing a hand on your shoulder as a silent comfort. Everyone seemed to agree and the conversation steered away from the topic of you.

As the evening progressed, you managed to emerge out of your shell again from your previous embarrassment. You engaged in light conversations with your colleagues, though you found yourself listening more than talking.

Throughout the interactions, you didn’t notice a familiar pair of eyes that was observing you from afar and picking up on all of your body language silently.

The food served was exquisite and left everyone more than satisfied. Between courses, the CEO took the stage to give a speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication throughout the years.

A loud round of applause erupted in the room, accompanied by smiles from everyone. You could feel the sense of unity and camaraderie in the room.

Dinner was followed by an open bar, which meant more mingling. There were more guests now after dinner than there were when you arrived, so the room felt more confined and bustling.

The mixture of alcohol and perfume smelled like an intoxicating fume. Adam effortlessly moved around from one group of people to another, his presence was booming with flamboyance wherever he went.

He was able to attract people’s interest with his bold body language and confident speech.

You, on the other hand, focused on the small group you were sitting with. You decided to stay at the table, enjoying the conversation and occasionally chiming in with your input.

As you were lost in the office gossip that everyone was exchanging, Adam approached your table with a drink in hand. He leaned in to kiss your cheek before he took a seat next to you.

You didn’t miss the looks that some of your female colleagues flashed at you both. You couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, but it definitely sent a prickly sensation through you. How charming…

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, his tone casual and calmer now.

“Yeah, it’s nice catching up with everyone,” you shifted wearily in your seat.

Adam’s gaze locked onto you as you took another sip from your drink. His stare felt like poking needles and you could tell that he was going to say something.

“You might want to be careful there, babe. Remember the incident last time…”

“Adam please,”

“…you threw up on the sidewalk? You’re lucky no one else was around to see you,”

Your grip around the glass tightened and you wanted to plummet through the floor. You started to wonder if his bold personality and ability to entertain people in a conversation came at the expense of embarrassing others for some laughs.

Being the ass of the joke.

Did he feed off of the attention? Was that why he kept doing this? You noticed no one was laughing. Some gave you sympathetic looks, while others felt awkward.

Adam took this opportunity to add on to the story, his voice resounding with pride. “And I had to carry her home. I felt like a hero that day,”

You forced a smile to try and disguise your discomfort that flickered in your eyes. At this point you didn’t know how to respond or act. But the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, especially over a comment.

You waited until the subject of the conversation changed again so you didn’t look suspicious before you rose from your seat.

“I’ll be back,” you said as you took a few steps away, excusing yourself from the group. “Just need to freshen up,”

You left the bar and made your way to the end of the room. There was the dreadful feeling that everyone in the room was staring at you as you swiftly manoeuvred past them. The desire to escape the room intensified with each step.

Finally, you reached the door to the patio and stepped outside. Thankfully, there were only a few people scattered around, making it easier to uncoil the tension that built up inside you.

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the fresh air — a relief from the stuffiness inside. Even with the different environment and open space, you still felt the modification catching up to you.

“Is he always like that?” A sudden, familiar rich voice pulled you out of your misery.

You turned to see Miguel standing a few steps behind you. “What?”

He looked striking now that you were up close to him, with the soft glow of the patio light highlighting his features.

His expression was serious when he said “Your boyfriend, Adam. Does he always treat you like that?”

You blinked, swallowing thickly before you spoke. “Oh…yeah. He just has a habit of making jokes like that. It’s just his humor,”

“Interesting sense of humour he has, making you the punchline every time,” he paused, his gaze drifting towards the clear night sky before returning to you. “I find it amusing that you’ve gotten used to being treated like that,”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend…I shouldn’t be—”

“You know, being someone’s boyfriend doesn’t give him the excuse to humiliate you. Why do you keep defending him like this?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know why you kept making excuses for him. Maybe it was easier to downplay the situation than confront reality. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t that serious in the first place— or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“He’s not always like this. He’s supportive in other ways. But he does get carried away sometimes,”

“Supportive? Do you mean when he points out your mistakes in front of everyone?” He arched his brow, obviously skeptical.

His words shook you but you had to admit, you didn’t believe your own words, especially after tonight.

“I don’t want to seem too sensitive. I’ve been with him for so long. It’s hard to think about leaving him…”

“Don’t let history keep you in place. You shouldn’t lower your standards just because he’s your boyfriend,”

There was a pause that hung between the two of you. The chilling air was nipping at your bare arms now but you didn’t want to step back inside.

The muffled chaos that you could still hear was enough to make your brain melt. You turned to look at the door that led back inside the bar, a sickening feeling churned inside your stomach.

“I don’t want to go back in there yet,” you admitted.

“Then don’t.” He followed your line of sight before he looked back at you. “We can stay out here for as long as you need to,”

You didn’t speak again after that. Your mind seemed to drift to the facility building that wasn’t far from here. The thought of a quiet secluded space was becoming increasingly appealing now.

You noticed the flicker of curiosity that crossed Miguel’s face as you looked far ahead before realisation gradually dawned on him. He seemed to pick up on your gaze and spoke your mind for you.

“You know, my office isn’t far from here,” he commented, voice boarding a suggestive tone.

“Yeah…I know,”

“Why don’t we head there instead? We can stay there as long as you want without being interrupted,”

“I don’t know…” You knew you didn’t want to be here anymore, but you couldn’t just leave, especially unannounced.

“There’s no one there at this time, and it’s quieter than this place,”

The offer was tempting, but what would Adam say? “I can’t leave Adam here,”

“You still think you need to be with him?” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping closer towards you. “Let him fend for himself for a while. I could tell you weren’t having a good time in there,”

You thought about it for a moment. What was the harm in stepping out for a little while? Adam couldn’t say anything if he didn’t know, right? You did owe it to yourself after everything that had happened, after all.

“Alright,” you agreed. Before you knew it, you were walking towards the car park and stepped into Miguel’s car and on your way. It didn’t take long until you arrived outside the familiar surroundings of the establishment.

The slick glass exterior of the building stood out in the night. During the day, it would be bustling with people coming in and out through the revolving doors.

Now, it was quiet and not a sound could be heard. But even if the building wasn’t running its usual course, there were still some occupants inside with a few of the lights on.

As you made your way inside to Miguel’s office, there was a comfortable silence. Miguel’s presence felt like a calming anchor in the sea of your anxiety.

Once you made it outside his office, Miguel held the door for you to step in. “After you,”

Miguel flickered the lights on before closing the door with a click, sealing off the blaring noise of the outside world. “It’s quieter here. You can take a breath,”

His office gave a different aura at night compared to what you were used to in the day time. The windows that provided a stunning view of Nueva York twinkled with the city lights. You couldn’t help but stare out in awe.

You turned back to look at him and he handed you a water bottle. “Thank you, Miguel,”

The condensation of the water bottle felt cool against the pad of your fingers.

By now the alcohol was settling in your bloodstream, creating a gentle warmth that radiated in your chest. You felt like you were floating as you walked over to take a seat on one of the plush chairs.

You were starting to notice that the alcohol made you forget about Adam and his concerns about your whereabouts and what he might think or say.

You cracked open the bottle and took a small sip, the cold water tickling your throat.

“So, how have you been handling things lately?” Miguel asked, taking a seat on his usual office chair.

You were grateful the topic wasn’t centered around Adam anymore. You didn’t want to linger on the sting of his words and actions from earlier.

“Well, I’ve been working on that new project proposal so that has been consuming most of my time,”

“I’ve noticed your dedication and your work on the proposal has been impressive so far,” Miguel’s voice carried a note of genuine admiration.

“Thank you…it means a lot hearing that from you,” you replied. You felt a sudden tingling sensation coarse through you and you knew it had nothing to do with being under the influence.

It was a mystery to you but Miguel’s compliments seemed to resonate with you, making your heart quicken slightly. You didn’t feel this type of effect with Adam, not even at the start of your relationship.

Miguel gave a small nod, his eyes studying your keen interest. “I’ve noticed you prefer working alone rather than in a team. You seem more comfortable that way,”

You were taken back slightly by the subject change. Where was he going with this?

“I guess I do. Sometimes it’s easier to focus that way,”

“It’s important to have people who support you. Do you have someone like that?”

Despite trying your best not to think about it, the question pulled your mind back to Adam. After all, he was supposed to be your support system, the first person you go to. “I thought I did but I’m not so sure now,”

You didn’t know what you were expecting after tonight. Miguel seemed to pick up on who exactly you were thinking about.

“How do you really feel about you and Adam?” He asked.

You recalled the conversation before you left the house for the party, when you were still getting ready. You still remembered putting on the lipstick and how you thought you looked good before Adam’s remark.

That wasn’t the first time he had put you down like that when your confidence was at your high. Did he feel threatened by your self-assurance?

“Well, he’s always been charming but recently he’s been more…critical, especially in front of others. I don’t know where this change of character came from.”

As you spoke, you felt yourself unraveling all of your true inner thoughts about Adam now— one’s that you tried so hard to push away just to salvage your relationship.

Perhaps some liquid encouragement and having the right person to talk to was needed for you to loosen your tongue and finally admit all of this.

“Sometimes, people reveal their true colours under pressure,”

You pondered that. Maybe Adam was trying to fit in and had some unresolved issues. Whatever it was, that didn’t justify his actions and the way he treated you.

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of conflicted emotions. “It has been a lot to handle tonight. I never expected him to be so cruel. Part of me wants to stay and fix things, but at the same time….I want something more,”

You didn’t know why it took you this long to finally confess it but now that you did, the air left lighter.

“You deserve something more.” Miguel said softly. His words, though simple, charged with meaning and something more. Affection?

You were so lost in a trance when opening up your emotions, you haven’t realised the close proximity between the two of you. Close enough to capture the faint smell of his sweet musk.

It made you wonder if he was talking about something beyond your professional ambitions. Miguel leaned closer— either he was studying your expressions or memorising your features.

However the moment was cut short when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse, shattering the fragility in the room and yanking you back to reality. Startled by the sudden noise, you fumbled in your purse to retrieve your phone.

You felt bile creeping up your throat when you saw Adam’s name on the notification. The text was short but jarring.

‘Where are you? We need to talk’

Shit…

Adam needs to get decked ‼️

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @cl3stevu @tarjapearce (GIRL I GOT INSPIRED BY YOUR TENTATEUR FIC OMLL) @lazyjellyfish300 @kavimoo @laysmt

@mybvalentine @boringpersonality @mun-2996 @leshasnolife @slut4oscarissac23

I was originally going to add smut to this but it didn’t feel right. Especially the position that reader is in here. If this does end well, I MIGHT do a part 2 where she finally ends things with Adam and smut

Ayrus xoxo

[lionb00bfan]

Can I request how the shishigumi with a gender neutral S/O who rolls around a lot in their sleep? Maybe they even fall of the bed? I though it would be funny, thanks! <3

Gender Neutral S/O that moves around a lot in their sleep 

Chief Lion

Although he probably wouldn’t mind you moving around in bed If you ever fall off, he’s gonna start holding you tighter so that you won't hurt yourself 

Pimp Response: Buy a bigger bed, clearly you need the space to move around without the danger of you falling off 

He’d start investing in ways to get you to relax throughout the night, so going to spas, tiring you out more on your outings, and talking with you to make sure nothing else is going on. 

Ibuki

This worry-wart wouldn’t let you fall off the bed in the first place, even in his sleep, his instincts as a protector kick in, so he keeps a secure arm draped over you

He’d start asking you questions in the morning to make sure you’re not having nightmares or if something is on your mind that’s keeping you turning. You’re going to start sleeping on his chest more often so he makes sure though. 

He’d consider getting baby gates at some point if you’re constantly on the edge of falling off; he just doesn’t want you to get hurt! 

Free

If you fall off the bed, Free won’t let you live it down, “Was the floor comfy? Should I join you next time?” He’s only joking, of course, he will pull you back up and wrap you up in his arms to prevent it from happening again

He’s probably the same as you, or worse, in terms of moving around in bed, so both of you guys are basically fighting while asleep for bed space 

If one day you fall off and he’s too tired, he might just join you on the floor to sleep (bringing everything on the bed with him). Be aware, he’s gonna try to convince you to get freaky on the floor in the morning. 

Dolph

He’s patient with you, a lot of the time he’ll reposition himself to avoid being elbowed or kicked. But if your shuffling seems more restless, he’ll wake you up to make sure you’re okay and do his best to comfort you before going back to bed.

Like Ibuki, he might place pillows on the edges of the bed to act as barriers, just in case your movements get a little wild

He’ll tease if you fall off the bed, but he’d carry you princess-style off the floor and back onto the bed, with him holding you close to his chest 

Agata

This man will cling to you like a koala to stop your movement, joking that it’s for your safety “There, problem solved. No more rolling away from me”

 He’ll tease you about falling off the bed, but he’s also just as guilty about moving around, maybe worse than Free. He’s for sure fallen off the bed more times than you and broken more things because of his size. 

Since you both are impaired in the sleeping department, he’s gonna suggest making forts on the floor for some date nights. You guys would just play games, have snacks, and cuddle without the risk of falling off the bed. Fort’s destroyed 45 minutes into yall sleeping though.  

Miguel

This guy won’t notice, he sleeps like a ROCK, and he will not be moved or woken up by your movements. The workouts, the jobs, the errands are keeping him nice and dead for the next 9 hours. 

 Wakes up really confused to find you on the floor, but easily picks you up to place you on the bed. THEN he sees how much you move if you stay asleep after he gets you back on the bed “Where are you headed in your dreams?” 

All he really has to do is rest an arm on you to keep you grounded, he doesn’t mind your movements and finds it pretty amusing when you basically fight his big ol’ arm to move around. 

Sabu

Takes advantage of his skinny self and drapes himself onto you to keep you from moving around as much. Reassure him that it isn’t him that’s making you restless and moving away from him.

 You’re cooked if you fall off the bed, he might catch you as you fall, so you’re gonna be jolted awake by your body being yanked up to stop you from colliding with the floor. 

If he doesn’t catch you and sees you’re still asleep from the fall (poor man doesn’t wanna throw his back out), he’ll toss a blanket on your body. He’ll take you out somewhere nice on his bike to make up for it. 

Jinma

He immediately starts asking around a market for remedies, catch him taking notes from older animal ladies who put their kids into REM sleep in 30 minutes. He’s just worried you’re not getting enough sleep or good sleep. 

If he wakes up mid-shuffle, he’ll mutter something cryptic like, “The stars move too, you know,” before going back to sleep. Neither you nor him remember this though. 

He’ll start using your falling as an excuse to keep you close to him, it’s for your own good. He definitely didn’t spray a melatonin cologne he got from one of the grandmas he talked to. 

Dope

I feel like Dope is also a deep sleeper, your movements are barely registered and if he does wake up, he shrugs it off with a sleepy grin. He’s too tired, he might just peek over to make sure you're okay though 

He’ll ask Jinma for any black market remedies he knows of though, he just wants to rule out any nightmares or bad sleeping habits of yours. He accepts fate if there really isn’t anything wrong.

If he fails at waking up to pick you up from the floor, he’ll jokingly build a pillow wall between the two of you “Out of sight, out of mind” He doesn’t like waking up to see you're not in the bed, he’d rather not see at all 

Hino 

I think he’d be the most “bothered” out of all the lions since he’s the lighter sleeper, he’s gonna wake up if you're shuffling around a lot 

If you fall off the bed, bro won’t notice, he’s too sleep-deprived to bother starting the process of falling asleep all over again. Unless you fall off the bed violently, he’s not getting up to check, and yes, he will make it up to you in the morning 

He’d use your shuffling as an excuse to hold you closer when you two get into bed, it helps him sleep better and you won’t bust your face + cuddles from your super hot man

[imninahchan]

⠀⠀ 𝓅. ネ · ❛ cillian murphy!vampire au

religião, cillian!padre, leitora!freira, terror/horror, sangue, gótico, romance de época, dry humping.

⠀ ───── já que eu não consegui escrever a fic, vou transformar em headcanon, porque assim pode sair mais fácil...

⠀ ───── essa jornada até a abadia não foi um presente; caso fosse, as outras irmãs ou noviças do convento teriam se matado pela oportunidade. Para você, entrar naquele navio e aportar na ilha nada mais era do que a chance perfeita de desaparecer e ser esquecida;

⠀ ───── a construção de pedra é centenária, mas está caindo aos pedaços, por isso mais reforços foram pedidos. Agora, a equipe conta com 3 monges, 2 irmãs e a liderança do abade. Mas, como bem se sabe, não se faz uma abadia com seis pessoas, então, chamar o padre Murphy de abade soa semanticamente errado na sua língua. No entanto, mantém o respeito e a distância que ele tanto aprecia;

⠀ ───── é um homem quieto, com alguns fios brancos nos cabelos escorridos. Desde que o bebê de uma das mulheres da vila morreu em sua mãos, mesmo que tenha jurado que salvaria ambos antes do médico da cidade chegar, se tranca no quarto e só sai nos momentos sacros. Sem uma presença forte do clero e com o alto êxodo populacional, o destino trágico é iminente: a diocese não mandará mais recursos e o que sobrou da abadia será jogado ao desgaste do tempo;

⠀ ───── você toma como missão salvar esse lugar da ruína. Usa de todo seu conhecimento em línguas clássicas para traduzir o arquivo antigo da biblioteca, abusa da simpatia para convencê-lo a rezar as missas pela manhã, mas o padre Murphy não tem ânimo suficiente para forçar um sorriso. Dentro de seu quarto, às janelas fechadas, passa a maior parte do tempo relendo a bíblia, ajoelhado em grãos, se martirizando, temendo, refletindo. Pensa na morte, pensa na crueldade de saber que não é somente Deus que pode trazê-la. Pensa no pós-morte, quase morre cogitando na situação em aquela alma tão inocente pode estar nesse momento. Diante de tamanho isolamento, você teme o pior. E ele vem;

⠀ ───── enquanto apaga as lamparinas pela abadia, desejando boa noite por quem cruza os corredores amplos, uma sombra vaga pelo canto do olho. Você a persegue, embora incerta do que vê e da própria escolha. Segue até a porta, desce a escadaria. À luz da lua, enxerga a silhueta masculina do Murphy, e mesmo que grite, ele não para os passos rápidos até o portão. Cillian abandona a abadia, passa a noite fora, e só retorna no outro dia, também à noite;

⠀ ───── como de costume, se tranca no quarto. Dessa vez, no entanto, não sai mais nem para manter as aparências. Você bate à porta, tenta: “padre... estamos aguardando pela comunhão. O senhor vem? Está tudo bem?”, mas nada escuta. Todo prato de sopa e pão que deixa no corredor, em frente ao quarto, amanhece intocado, frio. Acredita que se deixar ali por duas semanas, o único ser a se alimentar dos nutrientes serão as larvas. Cillian não come, não fala, às vezes parece que não existe mais. E numa noite, agoniada, você espiar pela rachadura da madeira velha da porta e tudo que flagra é o corpo magro esparramado pelo chão. Ele te encara;

⠀ ───── você lidera uma novena, acende uma vela para São Miguel Arcanjo e profetiza que o guerreiro possa lhe ajudar a vencer essa batalha. Nos próximos dias, devido às cheias de verão, a praia de areia movediça que rodeia a ilha se transformará num infinito d'água. A abadia ficará totalmente isolada e, como bem você notou, o mal assombra a casa de Deus. Já tomou seu líder e, com certeza planeja levar o resto;

⠀ ───── no primeiro dia, um dos monges desaparece. Como é possível se despedir de alguém numa noite e no amanhecer essa pessoa não está mais sob o mesmo teto? O mistério causa alarde, mas só é fortificado o pânico quando outro monge se vai. “O demônio está aqui, irmã”, a freira choraminga, enfraquecida, “ele levou três de nós já, o primeiro foi o padre”. Acontece que você não se dá por vencida às forças do mal tão facilmente. Torna à porta do Murphy, clama, “Padre Murphy! Nós precisamos do senhor... Padre Murphy!”, mas nada escuta;

⠀ ───── mais um longe se vai, a irmã também. Por último, resta a sua alma andando pelos corredores sem saber bem para onde ir. Senta-se em frente ao quarto de Cillian, assustada. Quando queria tanto desaparecer, subestimou o quão eficaz seria se isolar nessa lugar. Aqui, enfrenta de fato a possibilidade de ser esquecida, e teme que sua insignificância desapareça também... No silêncio da solidão, nota o cheiro apodrecido emanando de traz da porta;

⠀ ───── vem do quarto do padre. Confusa, não pensa duas vezes antes de deixar a adrenalina tomar conta do próprio corpo e destruir a madeira com o machado. Se coloca para dentro do cômodo, para a escuridão das janelas trancadas. Os pés por pouco não escorregam no rio de sangue que se estende sob os corpos espalhados no chão. Ergue a lamparina no ar, ilumina a figura encolhida do homem abraçando os joelhos, de cabeça baixa, no canto do quarto;

⠀ ───── “padre Murphy?”, você chama, e ele te olha com os oceanos azuis quase transbordando dos olhos. Chora, frágil. “Eu não queria...”, diz, “Eu tentei controlar, mas dói tanto... Não imaginei que iria... Que iria... Matá-los”. Você se encolhe também, abalada pelo que vê, pelo que ouve. Conhece cada um daqueles corpos. Porém, será que ainda conhece o homem à sua frente? “Onde o senhor estava naquele dia? O que houve? Estava com alguém? Alguém lhe mandou fazer isso?”, já soa mais exaltada, “O demônio?!”

⠀ ───── a resposta dele não era nada do que estava eaperando: um anjo. “Eu recebi o chamado de um anjo, irmã”, ele contou. “Ele me guiou até sua casa, me acolheu, ceiamos. E ele me explicou o que estava sentindo, a minha melancolia...”, aos poucos, o tom choroso retorna para a fala, “...mas eu não queria... eu não queria que isso respingasse em vocês. Nenhum de vocês... essa melancolia”, te encara, “Eu falhei, irmã. Eu falhei com Deus.”

⠀ ───── você se aproxima, engatinha entre o sangue. Segura no ombro dele, ergue o olhar soturno, “O senhor não falhou!”, defende, “O senhor não pode falhar, é o nosso líder. Precisamos do nosso líder mais do que nunca. Eu preciso”, frisa. Só de se imaginar de volta para casa num navio, o estômago embrulha. “E do que precisa para voltar a nos liderar?” A resposta é um tanto óbvia;

⠀ ───── observando bem os cadáveres, se pode notar o padrão: as marcas de mordidas na região do pescoço; os tecidos das vestimentas sagradas rasgadas para liberar espaço até a carne fresca. Logo, contigo, não é diferente. Cillian rasga a sua túnica, desliza a mão ensanguentada pela sua pele macia, da parte de trás da orelha até a ponta do ombro. Namora a vista, com o olhar triste. É invadido por culpa, pelo remorso do pecado, e igualmente pela sede, pela vontade da profanação. Você o observa se aproximando pelo canto dos olhos, repete para si mesma, em voz alta, incessantemente: “Porque eu recebi do Senhor o que também vos ensinei: que o Senhor Jesus, na noite em que foi traído, tomou o pão”, sente a ponta do nariz do padre roçando na sua garganta. Ele aspira seu perfume. “E, tendo dado graças, o partiu e disse: Tomai, comei; isto é o meu corpo que é partido por vós; fazei isto em memória de mim.”

⠀ ───── as presas saltam na boca entreaberta, forçam-se contra ti. Perfuram. Você fraqueja, crava as unhas na coxa dele. “Semelhantemente também, depois de cear, tomou o cálice, dizendo...”, continua proclamando, “Este cálice é o novo testamento no meu sangue; fazei isto, todas as vezes que beberdes, em memória de mim.”

⠀ ───── seu sangue jorra das veias para a boca dele, inunda a garganta. Tão doce, tão viciante. Se pergunta qual é a sensação que ele sente, porque pra ti, embora a dor penetrante se faça presente, também existe o calor, a inquietude. Obtém uma resposta quando apalpa a ereção que se esconde por baixo da calça que ele usa;

⠀ ───── cillian te acomoda no colo dele, as mãos seguram a sua cintura, apertam. Sente as bolinhas do terço envolvendo os dedos dele prensadas contra o osso do seu quadril. Está entregue à luxúria mais uma vez, logo você... Logo você, que já esteve nas mãos desse monstro antes e foi, por isso, condenada a lavar seu pecado no convento mais próximo. Se Deus escolhe apenas as batalhas que podemos vencer, dessa vez ele não teve misericórdia de ti. São Miguel Arcanjo não iluminou seus caminhos no campo de guerra, e você está nos braços do inimigo, se esfregando nele, alimentando ele, enquanto também alimenta em si a necessidade de servir em cálice toda a sua vida mundana.

⠀⠀

[ltwilliammowett]

The French fleet forcing the entrance of Tagus River. 11 July 1831, by Émile Jean (1789-1863)

Quarterdeck of a ship of the line (the flagship Suffren?) during the Battle of the Tagus.

The Battle of the Tagus was a naval engagement that took place on 11 July 1831 at the mouth of the Tagus river, in Portugal. A French fleet attacked and subdued Portuguese fortifications at the entrance of the Tagus, with the aim to strong-arm the government of Miguel I into recognising the newly established Kingdom of the French. The damage to the forts defending access to the Tagus and the arrival of French warships at Lisbon forced the Portuguese to cave in and comply with French demands.

[sl0t4matt]

could you do a fic w hector fort where him and the reader get a matching tattoo please? like something little or whatever you want hehe

h. fort | girl with the tattoo

thank you sm for requesting, i love this request! i only know very few things from friends abt tattoos so i hope i got everything right.

“hi baby how was training?” you ask hector as he slumps down the couch next to you, immediately snuggling up on you.

“it was fine. i would’ve rather stayed with you though.” he admits, laying his head on top of your lap.

you move your hands to his curls playing with them. you absolutely loved playing with his hair, since it was always perfectly curled and done. “don’t let xavi hear that.” you chuckle.

he starts grinning a little too suspicious.

���oh god, what have you done again you idiot.” with that look he must’ve done something, you thought. he smirks. “what do you mean?”

“do not play with me right now, hector. tell me!” you roll your eyes at his annoyingness.

“you know i love when you’re demanding, ma.” he winks liking his lips. you stand up not being able to deal with him right now. he knows exactly how impatient you are. he just loves pushing your buttons.

he won’t tell you. fine! he takes ahold of your wrist, immediately pulling you back.

“okay, okay i’ll tell you.” you sigh sitting back down. he smiles. “hector i swear-.”

“chill, i’m sure you’re gonna like it.” he interrupts you quickly. you furrow at him. what the hell could he mean? “okay so i got an appointment at the tattoo studio.”

“nice. what are you gonna get?” he smirks. “you mean what are we gonna get.”

“what?!” you’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but because of your school schedule you never got to doing it . you honestly also kept forgetting tbh but obviously hector didn’t.

“well i wanted to get your eyes tatted because you know how much i love them, but then i thought ‘oh y/n always wanted to get a tattoo’ so i thought why not just take you with me and we’ll get a matching one.” this boy is something else.

you grin so hard, it hurts. hector has always been affectionate moments like these remind you how much he truly is your soulmate. you jump on top of him shooting him with kisses. “i literally love you, you know that right.” he nods, laughing. “i love you too.”

“when is the appointment?” you ask. “7pm.” he shrugs. “are you serious! i don’t even know what we’re gonna get!!” you sigh, shaking your head at how your boyfriend can be so slow at times.

“we’ll get angel numbers of course. you’re a big astro girl.” hector says, referring to the time you first met him. (your first question being what his star sign is.) “wait, that’s actually a good idea.” he smiles smugly. “i know.”

…

“is it gonna hurt?” you ask hector as you enter the studio. “you don’t want me to be honest, ma.” you sigh. hector takes your hand. “i’ll go first if you want.” he says. you nod. you never had a big fear of needles. you yourself having a belly button piercing but a tattoo is different the pain is there for a while whereas when you get pierced it’s more like a poke.

you get in walking to the woman behind the counter.

“hi, we got an appointment for 7pm.” i smile at her. “of course. come with me.” she smiles back, bringing the both of you to the guy that does hector’s tattoos.

a bigger man with a beard greets us which you assume is the tattoo artist. he doesn’t quiet look scary though rather like a big teddy bear with lots of tattoos.

“the girl who’s eyes you’re getting tatted on?” he grins at hector. “yeah.” he smiles turning to look at you. hector isn’t very social with people he isn’t extremely close with, so he tries to keep his conversation as short as possible. you think it’s quiet ironic since you never seem to shut up, no matter who you’re talking to. they say opposites attract though!

he pulls out a picture handing it to him. the man nods, giving you a quick smile then takes his stuff out.

you follow hector as he sits down on a chair, extending his arm. he shows the guy where he wants it and how big it should be. the man doesn’t waste time and directly goes on tattooing him.

you sit beside him, squeezing his other hand, you being more scared of the pain he must be going through than hector himself is.

“you’re fine.” you stroke his hand, looking at him seriously concerned. “stop it you’re gonna make me laugh.” he mumbles. he’s so unserious.

it must not bother him much since he grimaces and curses on a few spots but keeps cool most of the time.

after him also getting the angel number tatto that is supposed to match with you, it’s finally your turn.

you’re pretty sure you’re gonna piss your pants as you wait in the room alone with hector because you’re so nervous. you don’t know how you’re gonna live to see see the next day after this. “you’ll be fine. it’s bad at first but you’ll get used to it. also i’m here for you, ma.” he tries cheering you up. “fucking hell.” you mutter. you’re probably going to experience the worst pain in your life here.

“are you ready?” the guy asks. with nodding your head, you go to sit on the same place hector sat when he got the tattoo.

you grip hector’s hand tightly, breaking it almost.

hector kisses the side of your face, whispering sweet words in your ear, trying to distract you from the needle that currently goes in and out of you.

“fuck.” you mutter through gritted teeth. “you’re doing so good, baby.” hector whispers. you bite your lip so hard you start tasting blood. “you wanna take a break?” the tattooer you now know as chris says. you shake your head, wanting it to end as soon as possible.

hector hates to see you like this: in pain. he hopes for it to end as soon as possible, the only thing he’s been wanting to do while you got tattooed being showering you with loving kisses, but he didn’t for the sake of chris since he’s sure he wouldn’t want to see a whole teen kissing session.

“it hurts so bad, hector.” you cry out. he moves stands of hair out of your face then cupping your face gently. “i know, baby but you got this.” he nods. the thing is you weren’t even being dramatic for once. this had the be the most hurting feeling you’ve ever experienced.

“we’re done!” chris pats your arm after he was done. your eyes meet with hectors, smiling lightly. you definitely knew you’re going to thank him at home for how he was there for you in this entire process.

[biostatprof]

There's a bathroom on the left?

[capsgirl19]

Alright boys, Jesus Christ, I spent several hours in a Wikipedia hole learning about Doflamingo's boat, Spanish literature, and the Roman Empire and I think I might've unraveled a fair chunk of the plot inspiration for Dressrosa? Good lord.

So it all started in my local East Asian imports store. I was browsing their models, fruitlessly hunting for more Slowpoke kits, when I noticed they had a bunch of One Piece ship model kits. Super cool, pretty big selection, so I decided to see if they had Doffy's ship online. Well, they don't. Sad life, but I said "it's fine, we see it for all of like 10 seconds, I don't think that ship even has a name. And I'm super not bitter that Garp's warship (called 'Garp's Warship' on the model kit bc that one is actually unnamed) was included while my man's was not." And then I figured I should look up whether Doflamingo's ship has a name, which it apparently does. The Numancia Flamingo.

Well I get the flamingo part, but what the hell is Numancia? In the trivia on the wiki page, it says it may be named after the Spanish battle ship Numancia, so now I'm on that Wikipedia page. The Spanish ship was the first warship to circumnavigate the globe. Cool, but that's fucking nothing with regard to what really matters, One Piece lore. So it's time to go and look at the list of other ships named Numancia, because apparently this is not a one-off for Spain.

According to the list page, these ships are all named in honor of the Siege of Numantia, an old city near modern-day Soria. Numantia (Numancia is the Spanish spelling) was a Celtiberian settlement in 134 BC, at which time Rome decided that it would actually very much like for Numantia to be a Roman settlement, and in keeping with this sent out some guys to really just beat the hell out of those Celtiberians once and for all. Now, Numantia was a fort on a hill, so the plan was to do a siege, which worked. Attempts to break the siege were unsuccessful, and the city attempted to negotiate surrender under the condition that they wouldn't be enslaved. The Romans refused this offer. There was mass suicide, followed by the remaining populace burning the city to ashes before surrendering unconditionally to the Romans.

Alright, interesting, so this is picking up. It's not like One Piece doesn't have stuff named after random ass battles, but they're typically naval battles and the Siege of Numantia is pretty definitively a land-based conflict. I guess it can't hurt to check the "legacy" section.

Oh, that's cool, there's a Spanish play about it! Some scholars think it's the best Spanish tragedy of all time! El Cerco de Numancia. It's by--

It's by Miguel de Cervantes. Best known for his authorship of Don Quixote. Fucking hell.

Right. Cool, cool, cool. How does the play differ from the real life Siege of Numantia? Well, for one we're going to need main characters to anchor us to the story. This means adding a central romance between a soldier (Marandro) and a woman who lives in the city (Lira). Their marriage has been arranged by Lira's father, but postponed due to the war. Their storyline ends with Marandro entering enemy territory to steal bread for Lira, but succumbing to his wounds shortly after bringing it to her.

There's also the matter of Doflamingo's appearance. If you look up who he's based on, you'll get a lot of results about French musician Michel Polnareff. I can definitely see the sense of style and general coloring from this, but from the neck up they kind of look nothing alike, save sunglasses and blond hair. There's somebody else that Doffy's always reminded me of though, the shape of the nose, set of the cheekbones, the damn hairline...

Yeah, guy's a dead ringer for Julius Caesar, the face of the Roman Empire. I don't think this is a stretch, the dude literally showed up and immediately installed a to-the-death gladitorial system of enslaved prisoners in a pre-existing coloseum, it's clear Rome was an influence on the plotline.

Oda strikes a balance between the nobility of tragedy and the messy human reality of war. In the Cervantes play, every inhabitant of Numantia dies before surrendering to enslavement. Many of them gracefully succumb to starvation. The very gods of their land weep for their sacrifice. In reality, the residents of Numantia engaged in cannibalism (as one might expect of a slowly starving populace). Many of them died, but several thousand surrendered to become Roman slaves.

As he often does, Oda finds a middle ground between humanity and humanist ideals. Initially, I wondered if it was all in the name of his ship, all wrapped up before he even makes it to the New World: ultimately, Doflamingo is going to fail because the people of Dressrosa will die before willingly submitting to enslavement. But I think it's not quite so simple as that. Certainly, he's deposed in the end. Justice prevails, as it were. But it's hard to argue that a man who ruled a country for a decade, getting everything he wanted and enslaving half its populace, failed. Furthermore, the people are not noble after this ends. They're angry and afraid and they act in ways that hurt the people trying to free them and by extension their own self-interest.

We all know how Dressrosa ends, but I'm more in love with how unafraid of people One Piece is. How it depicts our flaws with sympathy even as it insists that people want to be good and usually just need a little encouragement.

Oh shit I've wandered off into misty-eyed anarchist sentiments about the inherent goodness of humanity again, this happens all the time, my point is: I TRACKED DOWN AND READ A SPANISH PLAY FOR THIS! THIS BASTARD HAS MADE ME A FULLER AND MORE CULTURED PERSON AGAIN! GODDAMN IT!

[lacangri21]

A Library of Taíno Books

These include fiction, non-fiction, and authors not of Taino descent. It can be quite hard to find booklists for this, so I'm generating my own:

The Aborigines of Puerto Rico and Neighboring Islands by Jesse Walter Fewkes

Anacaona: Golden Flower by Edwidge Danticat

Ancient Borinquen by Peter E. Siegel

Cacicas by Margaret R. Ochoa

Caciques and Cemi Idols by Jose Oliver

Canoa by Miguel Sague-Machiran

The Caribbean Before Columbus by William F. Keegan

The Cemi Guayakan by Naniki Reyes Ocasio

Cocuya Lights the Way by Danielle Smith-Llera

Comparative Arawakan Histories by Jonathan D. Hill

Conquistadora by Esmeralda Santiago

Los Cuentos de Mi Abuela by Tere Marichal-Lugo

Earth and Spirit by Maria Benedetti

Encounter by Jane Yollen

The Golden Flower by Nina Jaffe

Guak’toka Taíno by Selena Lapham

History of Puerto Rico by Fernando Pico

History of Puerto Rico by Loida Figueroa (out of print; very rare)

History Smashers by Kate Messner and Jose Barreiro

How the Sea Began by George Crespo

The Indigenous People of the Caribbean by Samuel M. Wilson

Indigenous Resurgence in the Contemporary Caribbean by Maximilian C. Forte

Itiban ka Kalliare by Sergio Mojica

Keeping the Taino Language Alive by Richard Morrow Porrata

The Legend of the Cacique Princess by Michael Dorta (as well as its prequel and sequel)

The Myth of Indigenous Caribbean Extinction by Tony Castanha

The Mythology and Religion of the Tainos by Sebastian Robiou Lamarche

On this Beautiful Island by Edwin Fontanez

People of blue thoughts by Enrique Perez Diaz

The Peoples of the Caribbean by Nicholas J. Saunders

The Sea-Ringed World by Maria Garcia Esperon

Song of the Taino by Devashish

Taino Ceremonies, Myths, Rituals & Zemis by Lynne A. Guitar

Taino Genealogy and Revitalization by Richard Morrow Porrata

Taino Indian Myth and Practice by William F. Keegan

Taino Remedies by Isamar Rivera

The Taino Sun by Tere Marichal-Lugo

Taino Tales: The Secret of the Hummingbird by Vicky Weber

Taino Tales: The Legend of Coqui by Vicky Weber

Taino Tales: The Miracle of Salome by Vicky Weber

The Tainos by Irving Rouse

Tainos and Caribs by Sebastian Robiou Lamarche

Talking Taino by William F. Keegan

Zandunga by Robert Solano

The tale of the Tainos and Caribs by Gabriel Figueroa

Anani and the Cave of Cacibajagua by Selena Lapham

Anacaona by Viviana S. Torres

Tainos y Caribes by Sebastian Robiou Lamarche

Comparative Arawakan Histories by Jonathan D. Hill

Women in Caribbean History by Verene Shepherd

Taino by Ricardo E. Alegria

Tales of the Taino Gods by Osvaldo Garcia-Goyco

Taino Ni Rahu series by Lynne A. Guitar

Taíno Sun by Tere Marichal-Lugo

A Contested Caribbean Indigeneity by Sherina Feliciano-Santos

Anacaona by Maryse Noel Roumain

Taino by Jose Barreiro

Dreaming Mother Earth by Jose Barreiro

The Moonlit Vine by Elizabeth Santiago

I know there are more that I am missing, but this is what I can do for now.

[feyhunter78]

I just found your page and I totally didn’t read all of your Miguel O’Hara fics. One I love how you write kissing you caught that spark off a kiss with someone you love in a way most books don’t get right.

I can’t sit here and sing your praise all day but I do have a question. Fully up to you and if it’s just a Drabble that ok but will you ever being writing something else for Side walk kisses? It’s so cute and I can see more moments with Miguel and Y/N just being silly cute mindless college students so helplessly in love. Fluff smut angst whatever you decide to Drabble in I will be fully ok with

(This is the first time I’ve done an ask so sorry I I seem a little over excited)

AHHH I love when I'm people's first asks, it always makes me feel so special!!! I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of angst for you anon!

Insecurities

You know you shouldn’t be jealous. Shouldn’t feel bad about yourself, shouldn’t be debating making up some excuse and dashing off to the humanities building to rid yourself of this pit in your stomach like a snake sheds its skin.

But that would require leaving Miguel alone with Xina, and you think you’d rather die than do that. So, you’re stuck in the courtyard right outside the library, holding onto Miguel’s bicep possessively as you struggle to keep up with the flow of conversation.

Now you wouldn’t say you’re an insecure person, sure you have your insecurities like everyone else, but they don’t plague your mind, or weigh heavily on you as you go about your day-to-day business. Right now, though? As you take in Xina, her long thick dark hair, her stunning almond eyes that sparkle with intelligence, the flawlessness of her skin, the way she so easily keeps up with Miguel as they discuss the intersection between genetics and robotics, you’re feeling pretty insecure.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, when making your calculations you have to factor in the deficiencies in the code, just as you have to factor in potential genetic flaws.” Xina says, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, excitement clear on her face.

“Of course, with genetics it’s harder to eradicate flaws than in code, but I could see it following a similar pattern.” Miguel responds, nodding at her words.

You’re so lost. If they wanted to discuss the intricacies of the English language or the way philosophers can so heavily affect the development of a nation’s culture you would be there, front row and ready, but science? Science is not your forte.

Xina laughs and smacks Miguel’s arm, pulling you out of your thoughts, Miguel is laughing too so you do the same which draws her attention to you.

“Oh, y/n, I’m so sorry, we’ve been so rude, what do you think?” She asks, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely curious, or just hates you.

You stumble for a moment, then say, “I agree with Miguel.”

She laughs again. “You think Charles Darwin would be a good computer programmer?”

Miguel joins in, and for the first time ever his laughter sounds sour to your ears.

“Oh, um, no, I just—”

Xina smiles sympathetically at you, but it feels a bit patronizing. “It’s okay, not everyone can keep up with us.”

Okay, maybe running and hiding was a good idea.

“Y/N is actually top of her sorority for GPA, she’s read more books than anyone else I know, and she helps me write all my lab reports.” Miguel jumps in.

“That’s so cute.” Xina coos, looking at you as if you were a kindergartener presenting her with a crayon scribbled drawing.

You give her a tight smile, then squeeze Miguel’s bicep. “Hey, I’m gonna head to class, but I’ll see you later?”

He nods, and lets you go, reabsorbed in his conversation with Xina.

You toy with the bracelet Miguel got you as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. It’s a pretty thing, a birthday present, simple and elegant, highlighting your birthstone, the words, mi dulce, engraved on the inside in a small, flowy script. It jingles pleasantly as you mess with it, and glints under the florescent lights.

“The professor isn’t here yet, right?” Kelsey slides into her desk next to you and starts unpacking her bag.

“No, he’s running a little late.” You say, absentmindedly shading one corner of the blank page in your notebook with your pencil.

“Okay, good because I have something kinda fucked up to show you.” She says, pulling out her phone and scrolling until she finds what she’s looking for.

You lean towards her, the thought of gossip perking you up a bit.

“So, you know that Ava girl, the bitch who used to date your man?”

“I wish I didn’t, but yes.” You grumble, feeling that familiar gloom settle back over you.

“Okay well she’s been trying to get with this Kappa Sig, and you know how the brothers are like obsessed with me because my brother is their president and an absolute legend as they always remind me.”

“Yeah, it’s the reason we got into their parties freshman year.”

Kelsey’s brother was a decent guy, all things considered. Older than you two by a year or so, with the charisma of a cult leader but lacking the desire to start a cult. Throughly satisfied with his fraternity and the Fortune 500 company he’ll go on to work at once he graduates. He was nice enough, extending his protection to you and anyone else close to his sister while in the Kappa Sig house.

“So, one of them texted me about her trying to sleep her way through the frat, but then, my brother sent me this video. I gotta warn you, it’s not school appropriate.” She says as she slowly turns the screen towards you.

At first, you recoil. It’s Ava, half naked, and some guy, on a bed that looks vaguely familiar. The guy’s face is out of the frame, but he’s shirtless, his pants pushed down exposing his dick to the camera, Ava’s hand wrapped around it pumping furiously. “Um, what the fuck is this?”

“Just wait.” Kelsey says quietly, glancing around the room to make sure no one else is watching. They’re not, they’re too busy with their own phones or side conversations.

You half watch the video, feeling weird about watching, your idea of a good time isn’t watching your boyfriend’s psycho ex jack some guy off.

The guy finishes, his hips bucking and Ava saying something you can’t hear since Kelsey’s sound is off.

The camera shakes as Ava picks it up and shows off the face of the man. Dark hair, glazed brown eyes with hints of crimson, perfectly formed lips parted. You know that face, but you don’t want to accept it.

“Is that Miguel?” You’re horrified, sick to your stomach, head spinning, every unpleasant feeling and sensation you could feel erupting all at once.

You can see Ava go to grab his face, guide him lower, moving to take off her underwear, and you turn your head, unable to watch any longer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know when it was filmed, but Darren said he had one of the brothers send it to him yesterday then made all of them delete the video from their phones. He knows Miguel’s your boyfriend, said he was just looking out for you.” Kelsey puts away her phone and looks at you, eyes searching your face, before giving you a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry y/n, I can ask him to see if he can find out when it was filmed?”

You want to cry, you really, really want to cry. “It looks recent, that’s Miguel’s bed, I’ve been there, I’ve slept on that bed, I—I can’t think about this right now. Thank you for telling me, and tell your brother I said thanks too.”

Kelsey nods and squeezes you tighter before letting go and giving you a sad smile.

The professor finally shows up, and you throw yourself into your notetaking, graphite digging into the pristine white paper as you try to drown out the images in your head with the sound of your professor droning on.

Part 2 here!!!

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho

[stigmalarity]

Crimson

miguel o'hara x f!reader, fluff, smut, blood drinking, vampiric qualities, fingering ☆ crossposted to ao3

———————————————————————————

Hey, everything okay? 

Call me back when you can.

I’m getting really worried — I know you weren’t feeling well last night, can you just let me know if you’re alive?

I’m coming over.

You let out a sigh, scrolling through your messages to Miguel over the past twelve hours. He’s not a big texter, but it’s odd for him to go this long without responding to you. When you’d seen him last night you could tell something was up, but he’d just waved you off after you’d asked if he was feeling alright.

He hadn’t only looked exhausted, he seemed seriously on edge, his responses stiff and almost strained. The two of you hadn’t planned much for the day, seeing as he was currently on “vacation” with Jess and Peter B. holding down the fort at HQ. Something about mandatory quarterly time off to protect the spiders’ mental health. You’d thought it was a nice policy.

It wasn’t long after you’d arrived at his apartment above the HQ that you noticed how dazed Miguel was, movements sluggish as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table, responding to you only after you’d had to repeat yourself.

After the third instance of this, you got a bit concerned. “You tired, baby? I wouldn’t mind a nap before we start the movie.”

He pauses, sighing. “I think I’m getting sick,” he said, running a palm over his face.

“Oh no, really? You sure?” you asked with concern, shifting toward him on the couch with one hand raised to press against his forehead. Miguel hardly ever got sick. In fact, you thought it wasn’t even possible.

Miguel pulled away from you, just out of your reach. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want you to catch whatever it is,” he said. “Honestly, you should just go home. We can watch the movie another day.”

You frowned, then. “I don’t care about the movie, baby. Have you eaten at all today?” you asked.

Miguel’s guilty pause was answer enough. 

“I can stay over,” you declared. “I’ll sleep on the couch, so you won’t get me sick. I don’t want you to have to do everything by yourself while you’re like this.

An odd look had crossed his face, then. Anxious, almost pained. “I’m not a child.”

Though he hadn’t snapped at you, the words had come out shockingly cold. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to mother me.”

That took you by surprise, your eyes going wide. It was unlike Miguel to take that tone with you. “I-I’m not trying to-“ you stuttered, hurt bleeding into your tone. “I’m just worried,” you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

His eyes softened as he took in the furrow of your brow. Another sigh. He sounded so tired.

“I’m sorry, I know,” he said, reaching his hand out to lace his fingers through yours. “I’m alright, querida. I really don’t want to get you sick. Just go home, okay? I’ll text you.”

You gave him a long look, then. He was paler than usual, dark rings under his eyes looking more pronounced as evidence to his exhaustion. You hated the thought of leaving him alone like that, but you didn’t want to push him.

“Okay, just-,” you sighed. “Just stay hydrated, and keep me updated on how you’re feeling. Call me if you need anything.”

He nodded, trailing after you to walk you to the door. “Text me when you get home. I love you,” he said, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the top of your head.

Now, you were standing in front of Miguel’s door, a plastic bag full of supplies in your hand. Since you weren’t sure what he was sick with, you’d brought a few different medicines, a large water bottle, empanadas and some pozole. You decide that if he gets upset, you’ll just drop everything off and go back home. Though you might just force him to accept your care, depending on how ill he is.

You take another breath before pushing the door open.

“Miguel?” you call, looking around the entranceway. All the lights are off, save for the glow of the TV in the bedroom. You kick your shoes off, walking towards the light. A quick glance into the kitchen tells you that he has either been well enough to do his dishes (and not text you back), or that he just hasn’t eaten at all. Both possibilities worry you for different reasons.

When you reach the doorway to the bedroom, you finally spot your boyfriend swaddled underneath the comforter, seemingly out cold. The TV’s volume is low enough to have lulled him to sleep, and you can’t help the fondness you feel for him when you see the Ghibli movie he’s put on.

You pad towards the bed, carefully placing the bag on the nightstand and taking a seat beside him on the edge of the mattress. “Miguel?” you call gently, smoothing away the stray hairs matted against his sweaty hairline. The heat emanating from his skin makes your eyes go wide. “Shit, you’re burning up, baby.”

You lean forward, digging through the plastic bag for the cooling towelettes you’d picked up at the drugstore. Miguel shifts behind you as you search, the mattress sinking under his weight. By the time you turn your head he’s already sitting up, arms snaking around your waist to hug you from behind.

“Why’re you here?” he murmurs weakly. “Told you I could take care of myself.” There’s no malice in his tone. Just him, nosing into the side of your neck.

“You call this taking care of yourself?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lay back down, Miguel.” You’ve got the cooling towelettes in your hand now, ready to slap one on his forehead and then maybe slap him for making you worry so much.

“You smell so good,” he sighs dreamily, tugging you backwards so that you’re practically in his lap. His grip is surprisingly strong for how ill he seems to be. “Shouldn’t have come. You should go home.”

“Stop hugging me before you tell me to go home,” you respond. But he just pulls you with him as he leans back against the headboard, pressing little kisses along your neck and awakening butterflies in your stomach. It’s so warm and comfortable having him pressed against your back that you nearly forget why you came in the first place.

“Hey! Come on, Miguel. Stop being weird. I thought you didn’t want to get me sick?” you frown, smacking lightly at his arms. “I brought medicine and stuff. We have to get your fever down.”

“It’s not going to help. M’not sick like that,” he slurs, exhaustion tinging his voice.

“What do you mean, you’re not sick like that? You have a fever, baby,” you say, twisting at the waist to press the towelette to his forehead. “You gotta drink some water next.”

“Don’t need water.”

“Stop being difficult,” you sigh.

“I’m not trying to be,” he says, breath hot at your neck. “You smell so good.”

“You said that already,” you say, cheeks heating. 

He may be sick, but it’s never taken much for Miguel to get you flustered. You’re feeling the effect he has on you especially hard now, with his towering form swelteringly hot and wrapped around you like this.

You sigh as his hands slide underneath the hem of your shirt, rough hands skirting along the skin of your waist. 

“Can you just let me take care of you, please? At least take some of the medicine I bought you -”

“M’not sick like that,” he sighs, switching to open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat that have your breath shallowing.

“You’re repeating yourself again,” you murmur, though you’re not really focused on what you’re saying as he hums against your neck. 

“Miguel,” you start again, sliding a hand along the back of his neck and threading your fingers through the hair at his nape. “You keep saying weird stuff. What are you talking about?” 

Miguel shudders behind you as your nails graze his skin, and his forehead drops to your shoulder. “You love me, right?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm, need you to say it.”

“I love you, Miguel.”

“You wanna take care of me?” He asks, lips pressing against your shoulder blade.

“Any way I can,” you whisper. You have the inkling feeling that he expects you to respond badly to whatever he’s about to tell you, but whatever it is, you know you’ll be with him for the long run.

“M’not sick with the flu,” he slurs, turning his head against your shoulder to meet your gaze. He’s still so handsome, even like this.

“Can’t get you sick. I’m- m’thirsty,” he breathes, warm breath huffing over your skin. 

“For blood.”

“Blood?” you ask, brows furrowing. “Like, like you want to kill someone or-”

“It’s a spider thing. My specific genetic makeup gives me more… vampiric qualities,” he interrupts, though a light smile stretches across his pallid face at your assumption.

“M’sorry I- I should have told you from the start,” he adds. It looks exhausting for him to even get the words out, but to add even one more shred of context while he’s in this state, he’ll do it. “I usually have a stock of blood bags on-hand, but there was a situation in the med bay. They needed it more than me. It’s why I’ve been off for a few days. With no blood, my powers are on low output.”

You pause, absorbing the information. He has no reason to lie to you.

“O-okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. “Do you know when they’ll have-”

You freeze when another violent shudder rips through him, and both of you are reminded of the reason why he’s told you all this in the first place.

“Miguel, you can drink from me, right?”  You ask gently, cupping his face in your palms. He’s getting even warmer, you think, watching a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “C-can you just bite me? Does it work like that?”

He can only hum an affirmative, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut at the awful lurching in his belly.

“Okay- okay baby, go ahead,” you say, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside as you turn back around and bring a hand up to the back of his neck, guiding him into yours.

His mouth hovers over your neck, warm breath whispering over your skin. “You trust me?” he mumbles weakly.

“Yes,” you respond hastily, tilting your neck for him as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your skin. “Yes, of course.”

That’s all he needs to hear. His mouth opens wide, and he bites.

You jerk as pain blooms along your pulse point, but Miguel’s arms hold you in place, four little incisions from his fangs drawing blood to the surface. Then he sucks, audibly swallowing down a mouthful of your blood, your fingers tightening in his hair at the sensation. It had hurt when he’d bitten you, but now… you’re not so sure.

“It- it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” you whisper, loosening your grip on his hair and combing through it in apology. “This’ll make you feel better right? T-take as much as you need.”

Miguel moans against your throat at your go-ahead. For a few moments you’re stiff, avoiding any movement that could jostle his fangs in your neck. He uses his hands to soothe you, resuming their movement against your skin, palms running up and down your sides in a gentle caress.

In moments you’re feeling warm all over, loose and comfortable in Miguel’s arms. The feeling of his feverish hands on you is so nice, every sensation heightened though you’ve gotten so lax — like there’s nothing you can do but take what he gives you and feel.

You’re surprised at how quickly the pain completely subsides, your senses focusing in on the feeling of his hands on your skin and the pleasurable heat spreading outwards from the bite. That sensation you’d picked up when he’d first bitten you – it’s clearer now, making your mind hazy. His venom.

—

Miguel lets his eyes flutter closed as he finally tastes your blood. He’s always loved the scent of you, but your taste is so much more concentrated, sends his mind to mush.

It had never been this difficult for him to curb his thirst for you in the past. For all the years he’s known you, he’d never needed to push you away like last night to keep from biting you. The throbbing in his gums had been so painful then, the scent of your skin so near. Even now, the conscious part of him feels guilty for biting you without a more extensive explanation. This isn’t how he’d wanted you to find out, but the euphoria of finally quenching his thirst far outweighs his hesitance to continue.

You’re feeling the effects of his venom now, he’s sure of it. He can feel it under his lips, your pulse slowing beneath your skin as you relax into him. He’s drinking slow, hyper aware of how much he’s taking. He wants to make this last so that he can show you that it isn’t something to be afraid of.

His eyelids lift, dark eyes looking down at his hands splayed across your skin. The sight that greets him is tempting; your skirt is rucked up around your thighs, the fabric just barely covering what lies underneath. The straps of your bra had fallen down your shoulders in your haste to pull him towards your neck, and he takes a deep breath through his nose as his gaze roves over the swell of your chest underneath the lacy edge. 

He can’t see your face at this angle, but he knows your body. He knows how needy you’re getting, soft pants echoing in the quiet room as you rub your thighs together under his gaze. His venom has you the same as him, after all — achy and wanting.

A different kind of thirst plagues him now, one that has his cock throbbing where it’s pressed up against your ass. And with the taste of your blood coating his tongue – making his head spin, he thinks he might go mad from how badly he wants you.

His hands leave your waist, skirting up over your belly to reach your chest. Gently, he tugs the cups of your bra down, bringing both his hands to your tits and squeezing. The moan you let out when he tweaks your nipples is so wanton that he can’t help but echo you.

“Sensitive,” you breathe. “Feels good.”

I know, he thinks. And he’s hoping to make it feel even better.

He drops a hand down to your thighs, sliding his palm lazily along your skin as he eases them open. You’re so pliant, spreading your legs wide so that he can feel the softness of your inner thigh beneath your skirt. You really are so sensitive, breathing out a soft sound as his fingers skate upwards until he grazes the hem of your panties, teasing.

“More, Miguel,” you whine. “Please, want more.”

And who is he to deny you?

He takes one last gulp before pulling away from your neck, licking blood from his lips. He’s taken enough for now. What he really wants is to see how your body reacts to his venom – how much harder he can make you cum while you’re under its effects. 

“You’re so wet, amor,” he marvels, finally sliding his fingers over your covered slit and feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear.

You whine as he brings his digits to your clit, rubbing little circles to the bud over the fabric while his free hand wraps gently around your throat. “How are you feeling?” he asks carefully.

“So good, Miguel,” you murmur hazily. “Feels amazing.”

“Does it?” he asks carefully, licking away at the blood oozing from the bite.

You nod against his chest, and a little mewl escapes you when he presses his fingers in just a bit harder. “M’so sensitive.”

“It’s my venom,” he says. “It’s supposed to make you let your guard down — stop you from struggling.”

“Not that you are,” he adds, huffing a soft laugh against your skin.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he continues playing with your clit. You’re so cute that he can hardly resist dipping his head, sweetly brushing his nose against yours before meeting your mouth. You’re so eager, sighing into the kiss and reaching your hand up to his cheek, pulling him closer despite the coppery tang of your blood coating his tongue.

He’s no better off, on a high after finally satisfying the thirst that had him run ragged for days. Any other time he would have touched you slowly, running his hands and his lips over your skin before reaching this point, but all he can think of is you. He can feel his cock spilling pre into his sweats, but the press of your ass against him is enough to relieve some of the tension. All he wants now is to make you cum hard, and to make you cum fast.

He can tell that you’re getting close, lashes brushing against his cheek and rhythmic little pants breaching your lips as you grind backwards into his lap. You’ve still got one hand on the back of his neck, and he can feel your nails giving him crescent-shaped bite marks of his own.

The taste of your blood is still fresh on his tongue, but he already wants another bite — wants to feel the way your pulse jumps under his lips and your blood rushes into his mouth when you cum. And once he’s had his fill, he’ll fuck you all boneless and lazy into the mattress, if you want it. You won’t have to lift a finger. He has to pay you back for taking care of him, after all.

You whine as his fingers leave your clit to wrap around the waistband of your underwear. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tugging the lace down and cooing praise into your ear as you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl, ángel. Being so good for me,” he says against your lips, dropping your underwear to the ground before bringing his hand back to your pussy to spread your folds open for him. His cock throbs at the sight of your little hole fluttering around nothing. He’ll make sure to fill it up for you soon enough.

You whine as the hand on your throat moves to your jaw, tilting your neck just a bit further for him so he can lap at the bite mark there. 

“You taste so sweet, querida. Will you be okay if I keep going?” he asks, fingers rolling over your bare clit while he waits for you to answer. Some part of him is still hesitant, still wants to make sure you’re alright with him like this.

“Y-yeah, please, Miguel — it felt so good before.”

He hides his smile in the curve of your throat, nosing lovingly into your skin at your response. He’s always happy making you feel good, but this time it’s different. He’s not just giving — he’s taking, too. So he needs to make it all up to you.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Think you’ll cum if I bite you again?”

“I-I might,” you breathe. He can tell — you’re so tense, veins straining beneath his lips as his middle finger dips into your entrance. “I want it.”

“Good,” he murmurs, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle as you let out another shuddering moan. “Just relax for me, mi amor. Relax for me and I’ll give you what you want — that’s it,” he coos, pumping slowly in and out. You’re so tight, walls pulsing around the digit even as you rest your weight against his chest, trying to follow his instructions. 

“That’s it, good job, ángel.” he says, pulling all the way out just to push back in with two fingers, his own breath stuttering at the way your pussy sucks them in deeper at the stretch. “It won’t hurt this time if you’re relaxed, okay?”

You let out a little hum of affirmation, cheek sliding against his hair as his fangs graze over the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. He can spot your reflection in the mirror on the dresser at this angle, and the sight has him biting down, injecting you with another dose of his sweet venom.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the mirror, watching you writhe with pleasure; eyes screwed shut, pretty mouth agape, lips swollen and smeared with red, tits spilling out over the cups of your bra. His eyes drink it all in, and his stomach lurches when his gaze drops down to watch his fingers fuck you open just the way you like it.

You’d already been so close before he’d pulled away earlier. It’s not long before you’re trembling in his hold, walls getting tighter and tighter around his fingers as he pushes you closer to the edge. He wants you to cum — fucks his fingers into you a little harder, a little faster, prodding upwards just to moan against your skin when he feels a little burst of wetness hit his palm as he hits your favorite spot.

You’re slurring your words, practically drooling as you tell him how good it is, how close you are. 

He gets to watch it all in the mirror — the sight of you spread open and dripping around his fingers is so obscene that it’s a wonder how he doesn’t cum in his pants. Most especially when your hips jerk, catching his tip in the slippery mess dripping down to your ass.

“Cumming, cumming-“ you cry, breath hitching as he finally brings you to your peak.

There’s blood slipping past the seal of his mouth and dripping down your shoulder as he fucks his fingers in faster, banging against your spot to fuck more squirt out of you, spraying across his wrist and up to his forearm. Your blood gets so hot when you cum, the flavor sweetening in his mouth as it spikes with endorphins and makes his mind hazy.

Miguel pulls his fangs out of your neck and his fingers out of your pussy, resting his hands on your hips. He holds you steady as he drops his head down to your shoulder blade, flattening his tongue against your skin to chase a crimson bead rolling down your back. You let out a tired moan as he presses a trail of kisses from your neck to your hair, arms wrapping back around your waist.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the space behind your ear. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hum sleepily as Miguel continues to shower you with affection, barely registering his movements as he reaches for the plastic bag you’d left on the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of water you’d originally bought for him. 

He thinks he may have overdone it, making you cum so hard while so low on blood, but you deserve it. You deserve the world.

“Drink up, ángel,” he says, lifting the bottle up to your lips and coaxing you into taking a few sips. Once he’s satisfied with your intake, he sets the bottle on the counter, using the extra towelette in the bag to wipe your cum from his fingers before pulling an empanada out for you.

He’s still cradling you against his chest, legs all tangled up with his as you twist into him, nudging your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I should be asking you that question,” he replies, dropping the wrapper into the plastic bag. “I’m fine, thanks to you. But you lost a lot of blood. You need to eat something, okay?”

He lifts the empanada to your mouth and watches you take a bite. The two of you are quiet as he feeds you, and once you’re finished, you lean forward to kiss the tips of his fingers. The action is so loving that it makes him shiver.

“You’re really okay with this? With me?” Miguel asks, skirting the back of his index finger over your cheekbone. The two of you are lying down now, your head on his chest as he runs a palm over your back. You’re still so sensitive, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Of course I am, Miguel,” you say, peering up at him through your lashes. “I love you.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as you cup his cheek, the softness in your tone making his heart throb. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“I love you, querida,” he murmurs into your skin. “Thank you.”