#but also NOT force in a way that would aggravate more issues

[bartonbones]

i do quite honestly spend a lot of time thinking abt what's best for carmy berzatto. i worry about him like a son. i worry about him like i am his primary care provider and i am legally held responsible for any decisions i make lest i be sued for medical malpractice

[nackrosor]

~Your Wish~

(Part 3/3)

Part 1 - Part 2

Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader

warnings/tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con (with very dubious p in v), power dynamics, mommy issues, Brahms is a perv through and through

word count: 2,9k.

author's notes: this is the filthiest thing I've ever written, I swear. I tried to imbue this with all my naughtiness lmao I hope it was enough! Also, here's some art I made 'cause I'm that generoussss. I hope you enjoy the food! Bon appétit! 🤤🌹

"Did I scare you, Y/N? I didn't mean to..." 

He grimaced at the way his child voice came out broken and less convincing than usual, but in his state, even simply speaking was a feat.

You had been sluggishly fighting against his persistent grip on you, yet once you heard him speak, a loud gasp of shock escaped you, and your body stiffened under his. The way you tensed up made your back arch and your ass stick out even more. His focus shifted to your half-clad bottom, which was hovering only inches from his face. The drenched fabric of your panties had somehow stuck to the side, teasing him - torturing him - with that mouthwavering sight of you. 

Oh, what a struggle it was for him to refrain from seeking your heat again and then shoving himself inside you, once and for all. He was shivering with restraint while proceeding to keep you pinned to the mattress. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back, though.

He wanted you to know who he was before he finally and thoroughly claimed you as his. His pride somehow exceeded his yearning.

"B-Brahms...?" You hesitantly whispered his name, hoping to catch a glimpse of him behind your shoulder. You could only make out a dark silhouette in your peripheral vision, for both the darkness of the room and his tight clasp prevented you from seeing anything else. "How-? W-what?"

Your voice was a little louder this time, and you sounded sharper. He also noticed with satisfaction that you were now remaining still under his hold. That was good. It would make things easier. He'd prefer not to fight you, not to force you... But if you were to refuse him... He would not hold back... He couldn't...

"You don't have to be alone anymore in this big, scary house." 

He made sure to stress out the last words, the same ones you used when you had confided your wish to the doll. He wanted you to understand… That wicked side of him wanted you to realise that he had always been there, watching you, listening in on you... That you have never truly been alone.

"Aren't you happy?"

He couldn't hide the impatience in his voice. His palm pressed harder onto your spine, imperceptibly rubbing up and down, seeking your touch. He found himself edging closer to you, his mask nearly touching your asscheek, his other hand ready to commit another despicable sin, the worst one yet.

“Let me see you? Please?"

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned by your words.

You had asked so sweetly, your voice such a gentle caress to his ears, how could he have declined your request? After all, he had longed to have those gorgeous eyes of yours fall on him, finally seeing him, since the first day. And what would have been better than having you looking at him as he ravished you? Watching lust twist your features, the pleasure - he was igniting in you - flooding your lovely eyes. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as the vivid image arose in his mind, aggravating the torture.

Brahms loosened his grip, allowing you to turn around and lie on your back. As soon as your eyes met his, you let out another loud gasp. His gut flipped at the way your wide eyes flitted across his mask, chest, thighs, taking him all in.

You saw him. You were looking at him. Ah, what a dream... What a dream come true...

He wondered what was going through your pretty little head. How did it make you feel to know that the kid's voice you've occasionally heard reverberating through the mansion over the past few weeks hadn't come from a possessed doll or an imprisoned spirit... But from him. Your Brahms, in flesh and blood.

“B-Brahms…”

The way you tentatively called his name while looking up at him like a deer in the headlights was pure bliss.

He nodded enthusiastically in response and drew closer to you. His gaze flickered from your face to your hand, which he noticed slowly reaching up in his direction. He jerked back instantly out of reflex, frightened like a beaten dog meeting a loving hand for the first time, but as soon as he realized there was no threat in your intentions, he leaned back in and allowed you to touch his mask. Oh, how he yearned to feel your soft palm caressing his wounded cheek... to feel your gentle touch skin on skin… But that would have to be enough for the moment.

Now that he had your full attention. Now that you knew who he was and that no harm would come from him… with your eyes staring up at him with such awe and wonder… 

He couldn't wait any longer. 

His hand eagerly slipped between your thighs, fingers greedily seeking your heat. He caught with utmost satisfaction the way your eyes widened again, your lips parting to let out a shocked cry; you looked so adorable… so desirable… so vulnerable…

He kept his ever-attentive gaze fixed on you, desperate to catch your every reaction, as he stroked your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“W-what are you… Ah!~”

A tremor pierced him as he felt your body tremble so sharply when he easily entered you, triggering a loud whine from you as he drove his fingers deep into your walls.

His breathing was extremely shallow, and he could see your chest raise and fall as you began panting as well; the sight only served to add fuel to his burning desire, leaving him eager to make you cry and shiver just like that over and over again. 

His movement against you was firm but frantic, fueled by his long-repressed need, which was causing him to shudder and whimper as he fingered you. He had no idea what he was doing, but your moans and squeals were guiding and urging him to keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside you which seemed to make you scream the loudest.

“N-no… W-w-wait…”

Your hands shakily reached down to seize his and halt his actions, but he quickly grasped your wrists and pinned them both on your belly, holding them down with one palm while continuining on driving his fingers back and forth, unrelentingly, into you. He could tell you liked it, the lewd sounds you were making told him as much. He knew his actions were pleasing you. Your cunt was so wet, and your walls welcomed his long fingers with such hunger, swallowing them fully with each push.

How would it feel to sink inside you? To have your tight, spongy walls suck and squeeze his cock dry? Would his cum leak back out? It always did when he used his doll, the one he had turned to look just like you… He constantly had to push his fluids back inside the hole…

“Brahms... S-stop… Ah!”

Your broken whimpers sounded so cute. You were so cute. What were you asking of him? Certainly not to stop. Not that he would or could. The feeling of making you squirm under his touch was intoxicating, a feeling he had just discovered and yet couldn't get enough of. He had already grown addicted. The sight of you laying there completely vulnerable, completely his, was filling him with such a rush of euphoria. 

He released your wrists, disregarding the way you immediately but weakly started tugging at his hand again in protest. Instead, he reached down to his trousers, letting out a deep guttural grunt when he felt the dampness of the material, soaked with his seed. Leaked precum? Or did he burst into his pants without even realising? It didn't matter. His cock was hard and throbbing when he grabbed it, ready to slip out of the restraining cloth and finally sink inside you… He couldn’t wait, oh no, he couldn’t wait anymore-

“I said stop!” 

His entire body shuddered violently, and his senses suddenly sharpened as if he had just awoken from a trance. Both his hands abruptly came to a halt.

He wasn't sure if he was shaking more from the thrill your imposing tone caused in him or the excruciating hunger that was gnawing at him, demanding to be satiated. Possibly both combined given the intensity of the tension that had taken hold of his body.

Brahms stared at you with bated breath and childish fear, like a misbhehaving boy caught in the act of some deplorable deeds by his strict mother. He didn't dare to make a sound nor move an inch as he waited to be scolded.

A strange glint passed your eyes, one that he could barely catch, let alone decipher. However, your entire demeanour seemed to alter abruptly in response to his reaction.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He gasped. A flood of dread shook his entire being and made his stomach churn upon hearing your stern tone. Did he upset you? Were you angry at him? He couldn't bear it. Oh no… He only wished to please you... Only ever wished to please you...

"What were you doing, mh?" 

Brahms vehemently shook his head, his panicked gaze glued on your hard look. 

“Brahms.”

Your commanding tone made him shudder again. He cowered, crouching down and dropping his head on your lap. He didn't dare admit what he was about to do, what he had been doing long before you woke up.

"Brahms!"

He felt your hands pull on his arms, but he only pressed his head further against you, burying his face in your womb, his whimpers muffled by your skin. His hands reached to your sides, holding you vehemently but not threateningly. He wanted to show you how good he was. How good he could be for you. He was sorry. Yes. He was terribly sorry. He would never upset you again.  

"Please…" He pleaded in his childish voice, nuzzling his forehead into your belly.

"Please, what?"

He tightened his grip on your sides and cried again, "Pleaseee… I need you…" 

His meekness only increased as you delayed to answer. His hands cradled your body, fingers clutching desperately at your nightgown and creasing the material. His head anxiously swayed back and forth as he rubbed his mask against you.

"Use your real voice."

Another tremor shook his body and he quickly obeyed your command. 

"I need you."

His voice came out low and hoarse, such a stark contrast to his childish tone. It caused a vibration in your tummy. He could feel how your body shivered in reaction. 

Raising his head to meet your gaze, he noticed that your eyes had widened significantly. Was it because of his voice? The way he begged? Did you like it? He could beg you again and again in his real voice, if it pleased you so. If that meant you’d let him have you.

"I need you, please…" 

His fingers travelled slowly along your sides, gingerly getting closer to your panties again, quivering with impatience and constraint. He kept his imploring look on you as he stroked his fingertips on the damp fabric before slipping them inside to rub against your folds once more. 

He saw your eyelids flutter and your chest rise harshly as you took a deep breath.

He whimpered as he felt your fingers weave into his curls and then capture them abruptly in a tight clasp.

"Lay down, Brahms." 

He merely lingered for a moment to process what you had requested of him. Then he did it. He lay down on the mattress without question. Eager to please you. Desperate to be in your good graces. He would do anything for you. 

His entire body was trembling with anticipation, a deep-seated urge to be touched threatening to overtake him as you climbed on top of him, claiming his former position. His body craved your touch so badly, yet he had to wait until you decided to put him out of his misery.

“You’re such a naughty boy. You know that?”

When he felt your weight on him and your groin sitting directly on his bulge, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his hips buck up instinctively. Only his unbuttoned pants separated his arousal from your heat.

He was losing his mind…

"Nobody ever taught you that's not how good boys are supposed to behave, mh?"

More whimpers flowed from his parted lips as you began to grind against him, painfully slowly but with force. He struggled to keep his eyes open and locked in yours; his quivering hands went up to hold your hips, seeking to control your movements, but you intercepted them and forced them down on the pillow on either side of his face. He let you keep them still.

"Please…"

"I will teach you… Yes, yes... I will teach you. Bad boys never get their way, no matter how much or how long they beg."

Brahms had always obtained whatever he wanted since he was a little boy. If he couldn't have it, he'd take it himself. But he wasn't going to admit it to you. He merely groaned and twitched in response, every inch of his body ignited by your leisurely and frustrating movement against him.

He craved being inside you... To spill his load deep within your core... but he was so worked up… he had been holding back for so long, too long… and the way you moved was so rousing, provoking him just enough to…

His body abruptly convulsed underneath you, a deep sigh of relief escaping from his lips as a dark and large wet stain appeared on the material of his trousers. All of the desire coursing through him reached a fever pitch that consumed every inch of his body.

He had never experienced such an intense and violent orgasm before. He had jerked off numerous times, but cumming never felt so good... 

Brahms was still trembling and panting when his eyes opened again to meet yours. You had stopped moving when he started spasming. Even in the dark, he could see the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes were wide and glazed as they stared down at him, your own breath coming in short. 

"F-Fuck-"

His eyes were fixed on you, watching you as you gulped and shivered, clearly shaken by what had just happened. Your gaze kept darting back and forth between his pants and mask. When he felt your hands release his wrists, he pulled yours back, drawing you forward and causing you to fall on top of him with a yelp.

Brahms buried his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was stronger than before, his nostrils filled with your natural aroma. His fingers trailed over your skin, feeling how clammy it was and relishing the way you shivered at the touch. He moved on along the curve of your neck until he reached the edge of your nightgown and peeled it down without hesitation, this time dragging it low enough to prevent it from rolling back up. The sight of your breasts made his stomach flip, just like it had done the first time. His body started to become stiffer once more. 

“Again…” he whispered breathlessly as he lifted your torso so you could sit on his lap just like before, straddling his groin. He could feel himself getting harder all over again. He could not possibly resist you.

"B-Brahms?"

His hands greedily mapped your body, groping every curve and dip they found. His touch soon became frantic and urgent.

"Again, again, again!"

He hastily freed his growing erection from his pants and without giving you time to register what was happening, he seized your waist and pulled you down onto him. 

At last, you had become one. 

The quiet room filled with both his and your moans of pleasure, which only grew louder as Brahms started guiding your hips up and down, each time with greater force, allowing him to fully sink into you. You were so warm, and the way your tight walls clenched around his cock was more intoxicating than he could have anticipated. It was maddening. The sound of your cunt slapping against his groin was the the best sound he had ever heard. He mentally added it to the list of pleasures he had so quickly become addicted to and sought to experience again and again and again...

He was a mess of sweat and whimpers and tremors, and so were you. 

Ah, to finally have you! To finally take you as his! This was everything he had ever dreamed and yearned for. You would never be alone or feel lonely again, and neither would he! 

Please you night and day, whenever and wherever! That's what he intended to do.

Oh, yes. 

He will be such a good boy for you.

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[Should I make a nsfw version of my fanart? 🤔 I'd like to try my hand at nsfw art. Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing it.]

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[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 9 | Stitches

Summary: After a failed mission, Miguel needs to patch you up.

A/N: well, new year, new chapter (finally). I’m getting real close to finishing up this series, maybe 2 more parts. This took forever bc I needed a filler and had no idea what to do, and this is also the longest part so far. At least I know where to go from here, so I should have the next part up relatively soon 💀

Warnings: smut (duh), canon-typical violence, wound care

10.2k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

You had grossly underestimated how difficult catching Ghost would be.

The main issue was finding him. He was smart, and he seemed to realize that anytime he spent too much time in one dimension, you and the team would pounce, and like water in your hand, he always managed to slip away. The closest you came to catching him was about three weeks after your bet, and it was an absolute shit show.

"Fuck me," you grunted under your breath when another explosion knocked you into the wall. Ghost came from a universe with hammerspace, and every new dimension he traveled to, he managed to store away more and more dangerous equipment. Now, you were there in some alleyway, half your team missing, fighting off a barrage of missiles, bombs, and sharp projectiles.

Across from you, Ben was tangled in a net trap, and Malala was groaning on the floor as she recovered from an intense electrical shock. Clenching your jaw, you leapt off the wall at Ghost. You were getting aggravated by how difficult this was. Why couldn't he be a regular villain and let you catch him?

Anticipating your move, Ghost jumped out of the way. You webbed him and yanked him toward yourself. Rather than fighting your pull, Ghost flew at you and pounced on your form, knocking you flat on your back. He drove his fists into your ribs, and you cried out as electricity coursed through your body. He held his fists, adorned in makeshift gauntlets, to you as you lay paralyzed by pain.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked you, his voice low and silky. "He's always a good time." You weren't even able to breathe from the shocks pulsing in your ribs, but before you would've been able to answer him, your attention was captured by the sight of a yellow portal to your right.

For one dreadful moment, you thought it was Ghost's escape. His slippery nature was due to the watch he had stolen from Ben all those months ago, and it seemed almost impossible to keep him in one dimension long enough to catch him.

To your tremendous relief however, Miguel's muscular form flew out of the portal, knocking the anomaly off of your body. You took a ragged breath as the two men tumbled to your side. "Oh! Here you are!" Ghost laughed, pushing himself off the floor to face Miguel. "We were just talking about you."

Miguel turned his head for a moment to assess your form still gasping for breath. "You're late," you wheezed to him as you rolled onto your side to stand up again. You'd been here fighting alongside Ben and Malala since the alert from Lyla had gone out, and Miguel was only just now showing up. You didn't even know where Jess and the others were.

Seeing that you were well enough to give him sass, Miguel turned back to face Ghost, shooting a web that Ghost easily avoided. "You missed," he teased, but he was quickly eating his words when Miguel yanked the dumpster he had webbed instead and slammed it into the arrogant anomaly.

While Ghost was still recovering from his hit, Miguel threw his containment unit device at Ghost’s form. It slid right next to him, but a microsecond before it deployed, the anomaly rolled away, causing the orange force field to envelop nothing.

"Interesting," Ghost stated, sounding genuinely fascinated as he observed the glowing orange cage. You huffed in irritation, finally managing to sit up now that your muscles weren't spasming anymore. As much as you usually enjoyed banter with your enemies, you were not in the mood.

Miguel lunged after Ghost, who pulled another weapon seemingly out of nowhere and fired a spray of spinning razors at him. Miguel began twisting through the air, managing to evade every blade with expert precision.

Unfortunately for you, your screaming muscles weren’t able to move quite as fast as you needed. You leapt through the air to try and dodge the razors, but midair, one clipped you right in the shoulder, cutting deep from the front of your shoulder down almost to your back.

You cried out in pain, slamming hard into the ground as you fell. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, and you lay there struggling to breathe while hot pain blossomed in your shoulder.

Hearing your pained cry, Miguel froze, his body automatically turning to find you. You lay there a moment before moving to roll onto your good side. You pushed yourself up with a groan, and you were surprised to find Miguel at your side and pressing you back down to the floor. “Don’t move,” he urged as he gently held you down.

Even though his face was hidden, you could see he was examining your wound. “I’m fine,” you grunted, moving to sit up again. Miguel must’ve seen that you weren’t too terribly wounded and watched you carefully while you sat up off the ground before finally saying, “Okay.”

Together, you turned back to face Ghost. He was standing with a curious look on his face and an unsettling smile on his lips. “Now, that is interesting,” he said. Before either of you could move at him, Malala came swinging in a blur and knocked the anomaly off his feet. “I’m getting real tired of his gabbing,” she muttered, sounding as aggravated as you felt.

Ghost didn’t stay down for long. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he observed. He quickly typed something into his watch, and a portal opened up beside him. “No!” Miguel snarled, leaving your side to lunge after him. You also stood up, grinding your teeth in pain as you leapt after him.

To buy himself time, Ghost threw down two small capsules that flashed brightly, making you balk. When the sun spots faded from your eyes, there was still a thick cloud of smoke around you, causing you to cough weakly. Your eyes scanned the alley for your rival, and you found him scooping up the containment unit device Miguel had thrown.

You flung yourself at him, trying to web the device from his hands. Hitting his arm, you pulled him forward with all your strength. He flew at your body, but when you raised a hand to hit him with your bad arm, pain flared from your shoulder and caused you to stumble, and you only managed a weak punch.

Seeing your pain, Ghost pulled a knife out of who-knows-where and severed the line between you. Scrambling away, he jumped for the portal and fell inside it just as Miguel tried to catch him, and within a breath, the portal to an unknown dimension closed.

“No!” Miguel shouted in frustration, his fist punching the wall where the portal had been mere seconds ago. You let out an aggravated breath. This was the closest you had ever been to catching Ghost, so frustratingly close that it made your chest burn in anger.

There was a tense second where nobody spoke. You could see that Miguel was breathing hard. At your side, Malala stood up with a heavy sigh and moved over to help Ben who was still entangled in a net.

Miguel whirled on you. “What happened?!” Miguel shouted at you. You gaped at him incredulously. “You’re asking me?!” You shot back angrily. “Where the hell were you when the alert went out?”

Miguel’s mask retracted to reveal his scowling face. “We had him!” he snarled, ignoring your question and directing his anger towards you.

Your frustration boiled in your chest. Not only had Miguel been late to the call, but his accusatory words were some of the first that he had spoken directly to you since he added you to the team. It had been weeks since you had spoken to each other. It seemed as though since your last encounter, he had been avoiding you. Your interactions had been brief and relevant only to the mission, and you hadn’t even spent any time alone together since you had been added to the team.

“Yeah, we had him,” you repeated angrily, your own mask retracting. “We had him until you stopped going after him.” His face contorted into a scowl, and his figure towered over you. “You had plenty of time to incapacitate him,” he argued.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I had plenty of time waiting for you to show up,” you shot back. “And as soon as you do, you turn your back on him.”

“You were hurt,” he stated sharply. His eyes fell to your shoulder, and you thought that some of his anger dissipated from his face. “You are hurt,” he corrected himself, his voice still sharp but a bit less angry.

You almost scoffed again, but when you looked down at your shoulder, you grimaced. Your suit had retracted around your cut, exposing the deep slice in your shoulder. In your adrenaline-fueled state, you had only briefly felt it, but now, seeing it slowly oozing blood, the pain was suddenly very noticeable.

"Shit," you sighed under your breath. You were used to dressing your own wounds, but this one was in a spot that was going to be difficult to treat. "I'll be fine," you said dismissively.

Miguel seemed to compose himself a little bit. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh before looking back at your shoulder. "You need stitches," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "I said I'll be fine," you repeated firmly. "Don't be stupid," he replied in a flat voice. "And don't try to tell me you can do it yourself." You closed your mouth and huffed. That's exactly what you were about to say.

"Fine, I'll get Jess to do it," you stated in exasperation. "Happy?"

"Like hell you will," he muttered, typing something into his watch. A portal opened beside you, and Miguel looked back at you, irritation still evident on his face though perhaps not so much as before.

"What?" You asked expectantly. He shot you an impatient look. "Go," he told you sharply. You shifted your stance defiantly, stubbornly remaining where you were. "I don't want to go with you," you argued. He sighed in exasperation. "Would you stop being so damn stubborn and go through the stupid portal?" He snapped.

You stared up at him in contempt. His demanding tone and harsh mannerisms made you feel resistant to accepting any of his help. After ignoring you for weeks and snapping at you during this failure of a mission, he was the last person you wanted seeing you in pain.

You both continued staring at each other, each refusing to look away first. You felt blood oozing down your back, and the pain was really starting to radiate in your shoulder. Miguel stared at you with a deadpan expression, knowing it was only a matter of time before you would give in.

You realized with a wave of aggravation that he was going to win your staring standoff. With a sigh, you grit your teeth together and looked down in defeat. "Fine," you muttered sourly. Pushing past him, you walked into the portal and didn't bother looking back to see if he was coming.

You weren't quite sure what you were expecting on the other side of the portal, but you were somewhat surprised to find yourself standing in Miguel's room. It was just as you remembered it from weeks ago— simple, neat, and barely used.

From behind you, Miguel stepped into the room, not even sparing you a glance before heading to the bathroom. You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly following after him. He pulled out a large black bag onto the counter space filled with all sorts of medical equipment. He was laying out materials for suturing as you walked in.

"Sit."

You scoffed in annoyance. "I know you know how to say please," you grumbled. He didn't respond, turning to his sink to wash his hands rather than answering you. If you had been in a pettier mood, you wouldn't have moved until he asked nicely, but you were in pain and ready to get it over with, so you pushed yourself up onto the counter by the sink and waited for him.

Miguel pulled a pair of gloves over his hands and inspected your wound carefully. "Your suit," he said flatly, indicating that it was in the way. Sighing, you let your suit retract just enough to reveal half your torso for him. It didn't matter that this man had seen you completely naked on several occasions, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you undressed now, even if he was only going to stitch you up.

Miguel began with wiping away the blood from the skin around your wound. You flinched hard. The pressure he used was light but still painful, and you closed your eyes to fight the grimace that was trying to show. It took you a second to realize that this was the first time he'd touched you in weeks.

Despite your irritation towards him, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was standing to you. From the corner of your eye, you watched his face as he worked diligently to take care of you. His eyebrows were slightly scrunched as he focused his attention on your skin, and there was only the sounds of his soft, steady breathing in your ear.

When he was satisfied with how your skin looked, he sprayed antiseptic on it before asking, “Do you want something for the pain?” You considered it for half a moment before shaking your head. You had managed stitches before, and it wasn’t as painful as some other shit you’d experienced before.

He waited to see if you’d change your mind before lifting the threaded needle with his forceps. Despite your resolution against painkillers, you ground your teeth as the needle punctured your skin. "Sorry," Miguel murmured softly as he pulled the suture through your skin. He was obviously trying to work as gently as possible, but pain was inevitable with suturing.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you tried your best to ignore the pain, but with how slowly he was going and how thick the tension was, you knew you were going to need a distraction.

"Are you sure we couldn't have just used butterfly stitches?" You asked sourly as he pulled the thread again. "Yes," he replied firmly. "This is deep. You got lucky, too. If it had been just a few inches over, the blade would've hit your neck, and you'd need a lot more than sutures."

"It wasn't luck," you replied pointedly. "It was skill." Miguel gave a disbelieving snort as he pulled the thread tight. "If you really had skill, it wouldn't have hit you at all," he mumbled.

You huffed indignantly. "Oh, please," you began, "don't pretend like you haven't had to take a few hits before. It's practically in the job description."

Miguel didn't reply as he pierced the needle through your skin again, causing you to wince at the pain. You thought he was going to make some sharp bullshit retort about how he didn't get as hurt as you, but instead, he just sighed.

"This was too close," he murmured at last.

Your defensive attitude softened considerably at his words. Studying his face closely, you realized that he wasn't being critical, he was being protective. With your new understanding, you almost felt bad for being angry at him.

"I've had closer," you told him wryly. He frowned. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked in a dull voice. You gave a small huff in amusement. "It's supposed to show you that you don't have to worry about me," you explained earnestly.

He didn't say anything to you as he continued sewing up your cut. The sting of the needle caused you to wince again, and you tried to think of something to talk about to distract you from the pain.

"At least I don't have to fix up my suit," you said at last, hoping he would pick up the conversation. Miguel hummed before replying, "It's almost impossible to destroy unstable molecule fabric."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well if it was impossible to destroy, wouldn't it protect me from even getting cut?"

"That's not how it works," he told you flatly.

"So then how does it work?"

He gave a short sigh, indicating to you that he was not in the mood to entertain your curiosity. Nevertheless, he did. "The molecules work almost as a form of energy," he explained. "They assess the host molecules and change with them. The suit learns your body and reacts with it."

Another stitch was added, but you didn't feel it quite as much as before.

"When you were cut, it didn't destroy the suit," he continued, "it interrupted it. Your skin was damaged, and the suit left it exposed because your wound isn't the default for the molecules."

You studied his face as he spoke, a smile slowly growing on your lips. When he had finished explaining the science of the suit, he seemed to feel your stare and glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Nerd," you said at last.

That seemed to pull him out of his grumpiness somewhat, and he turned his attention back to your shoulder. "You asked," he mumbled, but the sharp edge that was in his voice was gone.

"So then how does the suit retract into my web shooters?" You asked, genuinely interested in knowing more about the fascinating technology you wore everyday, and it definitely helped distract you from the pain.

"Since the suit can take on an energy form," he explained, "it can be stored in the web shooters as a form of data." You stared down at the web shooters on your wrists. It was amazing that such an unsuspecting piece of technology housed such powerful energy.

"They look just like my old pair," you noted. Miguel nodded, his eyes never leaving your shoulder as he worked. "I know, that's what I was aiming for," he said, "but I was thrown off by the web cartridges you use."

You smirked. "Pretty cool, right?" You said proudly. "I built a system that condenses the water in the air and converts it into a hydropolymer to supplement my web supply. It's not as strong as my original formula, but it saves me from having a web block."

Miguel's eyebrows lifted somewhat as he listened. If you hadn't known better, you could almost say he was impressed. He must've noticed your staring because he turned his eyes to meet yours, and his face softened.

"Nerd," he said.

You smiled in return and rolled your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled playfully. His lips widened fractionally, and his eyes returned back to your shoulder. You felt more relaxed now. The anger and irritation you were feeling before had disappeared as soon as you saw him smile.

"How's it looking, doc?" You asked after a moment, trying to turn your head to see his progress. “Don’t move your head,” Miguel said and nudged your face with the back of his wrist. "And you're not going to be doing any swinging for the next few days.” Your eyes snapped up to look at him. "It's not that bad," you argued weakly. "I'll be fine."

Miguel gave you a stern look. "In your shoulder, it is that bad," he said. "If you tear this, it's going to scar even worse than it's already going to now."

You rolled your eyes again. "Well, you know better than most that this isn't my first or worst scar," you argued, "and it probably won't be my last." It was true. Your body was covered in scars large and small, old and new, and this was just another addition to your collection.

Miguel didn't reply to you. He had worked steadily from the back of your shoulder to the front, but the closer he got to your neck, the worse the pain felt. You did your best to remain neutral, but you couldn't help the small grunt of discomfort that sounded in your throat. Miguel heard it and asked gently, "Do you want something for the pain?"

You shook your head in response. "I have my own stuff," you told him before a crooked grin pulled on your lips. "But you know what I've heard is a natural pain killer?" You added slyly.

Miguel heard the mischief in your voice, and he looked back at your face with suspicion. "What?" He asked carefully.

In a sweet tone, you answered, "Kissing."

Miguel gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I told you not until we get the anomaly," he said pointedly.

You weren't discouraged by his assertion. "I just want to see if it works," you told him innocently. "It's an experiment."

"With an ulterior motive."

"The motive is to get rid of the pain."

He still wore a skeptical look, so you tried again. "It's for science," you explained, batting your eyes at him. After weeks of not touching him, you longed to feel his body against your own.

Miguel was unconvinced. He gave an unimpressed hum and pulled his needle through your skin again. It seemed he wasn't going to budge. Heaving a large sigh, you continued, "But if you don't want to participate, maybe I'll find someone else who does."

Miguel pulled his stitch tight, making you wince. "I bet you think that's funny," he said in a flat voice.

"I bet you don't," you shot back.

"Because it's not."

"Well," you began slowly, hesitating as you wondered if you should even start this conversation with him. You’d thought a lot about him the past few weeks, and barely seeing him for weeks now had made you realize that being a casual fling wasn’t what you wanted anymore. "I know you've expressed many times that this isn't a relationship,” you said carefully, “so I don't really see what the issue is."

Your heart was beating a little faster now. Your words opened the door to a conversation that you were both eager and terrified to have. You wanted desperately to know how he felt about you, about whatever this was between you. You were also nervous that he didn't feel what you felt or want what you wanted.

At your words, Miguel's face darkened. He stayed quiet for a second before he resumed suturing. "If that's what you want," he muttered at last.

There was a tense silence that settled between you. You stared up at his hardened face, trying to determine what he was thinking.

"It's not," you replied quietly, "but being on this break got me thinking."

"About?"

"About how I feel about this whole arrangement."

The tense silence returned. Miguel's eyes were fixed determinedly on your shoulder, and his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to what you said.

"You want to end it?" He asked, his voice level and neutral.

"No," you said a bit too quickly. "It's just..." you trailed off, trying to think of the best way to tell him what you wanted. Doubt nibbled at your mind, and you wondered if this was even a good idea at all.

Miguel noticed your apprehension, and he stopped sewing your wound to give you his undivided attention. His dark eyes met yours, and he was so close to you that it caused your heart to flutter.

You looked away to regain your thoughts. "I know that this is supposed to be a casual thing," you began slowly. "And I know what you said about time and relationships. I just..." you sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the counter. "I don't want to be just a diversion for you, a mindless distraction that you can pick up or put down as you please."

Your face burned as you spoke, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face. Miguel murmured your name softly, and you closed your eyes to keep from seeing his reaction.

"If that's still what you still want, that's fine," you continued quickly. "I'm not trying to force you into something you don't want." You sighed as you opened your eyes again. "That's just how I feel," you finished quietly.

Silence enveloped you, suffocating, nerve-wracking silence. After a couple heartbeats, you forced yourself to look up at Miguel. He was still staring at you, but instead of wearing an awkward or even condescending expression as you had expected, his face was soft, almost thoughtful.

You stared at each other quietly for a moment longer before he finally turned his gaze back to your shoulder. Picking up his hands again, he began working on your sutures without reply.

Your stomach tightened anxiously at his silence, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. You didn't feel the pain of your wound anymore now that your mind was racing with what you just said and Miguel's utter lack of response.

"It's not that I don't want it," he said at last. "Because I do."

Your eyes shot up to his face as he spoke. His gaze was still fixed on your stitches, but you could see clearly that he was thinking about what you just said.

"Then what is it?" You asked quietly.

Miguel took a moment to respond, his hands never ceasing their work. "I built my whole life around what we're doing here," he began slowly. "When I say I don't have time for a relationship, it means I can't give you the time you deserve." He glanced over at your face briefly before returning back to your shoulder, his eyes growing distant.

"The last time I let myself get close to someone, I hurt a lot of people," he added quietly. "More than I could ever make up for." He paused for a moment and sighed. "I just don't want to see that happen to you," he said softly.

Your heart ached. You remembered what he told you, how his actions triggered the destruction of a universe. The burden of his past still clearly weighed on his conscious, and you didn't know what to say to him to comfort him.

In the silence following, Miguel tied off the last stitch. With a pair of scissors from the kit, he snipped the line. You looked down at the neat row of sutures that held your cut closed. His work was precise, and you knew it was miles better than what you could've done by yourself.

Miguel was cleaning up his materials, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with you as he did. You watched for a second before taking a deep breath.

"You know, I've learned a lot of things since I was bitten by that stupid spider," you began, breaking the silence around you. "First, pain is unavoidable." You pointed to your shoulder's fresh stitches. "Case in point," you said wryly.

Miguel didn't react to your weak joke. He continued packing his materials away, but you could tell he was still listening to what you were saying.

"My second lesson," you continued, "was that I would always be alone."

Miguel paused, and his eyes turned back to your face. "There was nobody who knows what it's like to be me," you explained. "Nobody who knew what I've sacrificed. I had nobody to trust with this secret life, and the longer I did this, the more I regretted being Spider-Woman."

You stared down at the web shooters adorning your wrists as you contemplated your own words. You had never told anybody this before, not even the other Spiders. You had suffered so much by yourself, and only now for the first time did you feel like you could share your life with someone.

"But when I came here," you continued quietly, "it all changed. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who did understand, who also felt how I did." You paused again, and you finally looked up at his face. His eyes were watching you with a look of understanding and sympathy that made your throat tighten unexpectedly.

Your eyes broke away from his stare again, and you stated quietly, "When you offered me a place here, I wasn't alone anymore."

Miguel nodded softly. "That's what I wanted," he replied. "A community for people like us." You tilted your head up at him and studied his countenance. "Then why do you still act like you're doing it alone?" You asked.

He sighed uncomfortably, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the sink counter. "In a lot of ways, I am doing it alone," he stated quietly. "Everyone here enjoys doing the missions, seeing all the new dimensions, and meeting new Spiders. I'm the one who has to do all the damage control, the recruitment, the dirty work." He sighed again and muttered grimly, "I don't always like what I have to do."

You raised an eyebrow at his melodramatic statement. "You know, it would probably be more enjoyable if you actually interacted with the other Spiders," you told him with a pointed look.

Miguel huffed a short breath. "I'm not trying to get close to anyone," he stated firmly. That made you pause and tilt your head in interest. "Then what am I?" You asked, a curious smile pulling at your mouth.

His gloomy expression lifted somewhat as he looked at you. He uncrossed his arms and planted them on the counter on either side of your body, and he stared at your face thoughtfully. You stared back, waiting for an answer.

"You," he began slowly, "were a distraction to take the edge off." You hummed thoughtfully in response, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. "And now?" You prompted, your eyes falling to his lips.

"And now," he echoed, "you're the person I bring back to my room to stitch up because I don't trust anyone else to do it."

You smiled at him, and your stomach fluttered at how close he was to you. You wanted so badly to kiss him. Your lips yearned for the feeling of his mouth against yours.

"I guess that makes me pretty special," you replied smugly.

A glimmer of reluctant amusement shone in his face, and he tilted his head in mock consideration. "I think 'special' is a stretch," he stated coolly. You placed a hand over your heart dramatically. "Ouch," you gasped. "And you wonder why I joke about going to other people."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "I don't wonder," he stated. "I know exactly why you do it."

"And why is that?" You asked coyly.

Miguel shot you an unconvinced look. "Because it gets under my skin, and you know it," he replied. You smirked, unable to deny the truth in his statement.

"If that's true, then that would make me a horrible person," you told him.

"You are a horrible person."

Your smile widened, and with your good arm, you raised your hand to his chest and let it slowly wander up to wrap behind his neck. "Then why do you like me?" You asked innocently.

Miguel was looking at your lips now, and there was a hint of playfulness in his face. "'Like' is a strong word," he said thoughtfully. "I think 'tolerate' is more accurate."

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Damn, is there anything in the first aid kit for a broken heart?" You joked. He couldn't stop himself from smiling softly at your theatrics. "You're ridiculous," he said.

You hummed, pulling him closer to your face. "You love it," you insisted. His nose brushed against yours before he repeated, "I tolerate it." You chuckled and gave a careful shrug. "Same difference," you said before pulling his lips down against yours.

You couldn't resist smiling against his lips as you kissed him for the first time in weeks. You were savoring every sweet second of his body against yours. His mouth moved slowly against your own, and he snaked an arm around your torso, making your face glow with a faint blush.

His words echoed in your head. It's not that I don't want it. So, he did feel the same way you did, or at least, to some degree he did. The thought alone made your stomach flutter, and you ran your fingers through his hair while trying to memorize how his lips felt against yours.

When you finally broke apart, you still wore a smile on your face as his forehead rested on yours. "Oh wow, that does help with the pain," you commented. The pain had subsided considerably when his mouth was pressed against yours.

Miguel chuckled and kissed you again briefly. "Consider your experiment a success," he said. You hummed thoughtfully. "I would be an irresponsible scientist if I didn't repeat my experiment to prove its validity," you argued, earning a smile from him before you pressed your lips to his again.

It felt so good to kiss him, especially after the shitty failure that was today's mission, and the warmth of his body melted all your troubles away from your mind. You didn't care about the mission or your injury. He was here with you, everything else could wait.

With your fingers still running through his hair, you grabbed a fistful of jet-black strands and deepened your kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth with a sigh. His hand on your waist tightened while he grunted softly into your mouth.

Breaking away from your lips, Miguel murmured your name in a low, warning voice. "Hmm?" You replied innocently, looking up at his dark eyes through your lashes. "We had an agreement," he said.

"Yeah, when I was on the team," you told him. "But you just said that I need to lay off for a few days..." you gave him a pointed look, "...which means I'm technically off the team for a few days..." you pulled his face back down to yours, "...which means that our agreement is null and void."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss before he could argue back. It was a weak argument, and you knew it, but you didn't want him to challenge it. You wanted him to want you.

His grip around your waist tightened as he pushed against your tongue with his own. You couldn't help the small moan you gave as his passion began to show, and all the longing you'd been feeling for Miguel the past couple weeks began welling up inside you.

Your lips separated for a moment. "Treacherous," he murmured breathlessly against your skin. You hummed, blinking your eyes open to look at him. His face looked restless, and you knew he was hungry for more.

"So I've been told," you replied smugly as you moved your lips down to his neck. Miguel gave a deep sigh at the feeling of your kisses on his sensitive skin, skin that felt warm and soft to the touch.

In your growing desire for him, your teeth gently nipped his bare flesh. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, his fingers gripping your waist tightly as he whispered your name again. You smiled deviously as his reaction, and your legs wrapped around his hips to bring his body flush against yours.

"Give me more," you mumbled against his skin. Miguel took a second to respond, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep his composure. "You're hurt," he argued weakly. Based on his strained voice, you knew he had all but given in to the craving of your touch. You raised your head up so that you could look him in his dark, restless eyes, noses brushing gently as you were both panting lightly in anticipation.

"Then make me feel better."

That was all you had to say before he kissed you with the hunger of a touch-starved man. He pulled you off the sink in one swift movement, holding you upright with your legs still wrapped around his waist, and walked out of the bathroom to where his bed was waiting for you both.

Finally, you thought. The tension between you these past few weeks had been torture. Seeing each other around HQ after your last encounter and not saying a word in passing was aggravating, and you had been longing for the moment when you could wrap your arms (and legs) around him again.

When his legs hit the side of the bed, he lowered you carefully down onto it. You still had your good arm wrapped around his shoulders, and when he placed you on the top of his bed, you hissed in pain and clung to his body. The edge of your stitched-up wound had touched the comforter, making it sting. 

"Maybe not like this," you said with a light chuckle.

A flash of concern crossed Miguel's face when he realized your pain, and he moved to roll off of you. Still holding yourself close to his body, you rolled with him and found yourself straddling his lap.

With a smirk, you hovered your face over his. "Much better," you stated smugly. Miguel was still assessing your face for any traces of discomfort. "Are you sure you're up for this?" He asked. You shot him a look. You would've thought he was trying to find a way out of it if it weren't for the fact that his fingers were unconsciously trying to move your hips against his hardening cock.

"I've been craving you for weeks," you whispered against his lips. "It would take more than this to keep me off of you." His face gave way to a smile at your words, a true smile that filled his whole face. Fuck, he looked so good. The way he lit up with you knocked the wind out of you, and you could've stayed there forever just admiring the beautiful smile he had before he raised his head to kiss you.

You leaned into him, growing hot with desire. Your suit, so attuned to what your body wanted, retracted all the way back to your web shooters. Miguel's hands traced across the skin of your torso as his tongue slid against yours, and his suit also disappeared from his body.

Feeling his skin against yours set your heart racing. His fingertips felt electric as his hands wandered up your back to unclasp your bra. Careful not to hit your new stitches, he removed it from your body, taking in the sight of your bare body with a lustful expression before lowering his head to take one of your breasts in his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he moved his mouth sloppily over your skin. Leaning into him, you ran a hand through his dark hair and grabbed fistfuls of the strands. You missed this, the feeling of him exploring your body. It was so much more than taking the edge off now. It was almost like a form of worship.

"Feeling better?" He murmured, tilting his head up to watch your enraptured expression. "Mhmm," you hummed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. "But don't you dare stop."

Miguel smirked. "Wasn't planning on it," he replied in a low voice. As he spoke, his hands slid down your body and began pushing your underwear down over your ass. Leaning forward, you lifted your legs to allow his hands to remove your last piece of clothing.

You were breathing hard in anticipation now. You placed sloppy kisses on his chest, his neck, practically any of his tanned skin that you could reach. From his throat, the softest little moans sounded in response to your touch, and each fueled your desire. In your desperation, your teeth grazed his skin again.

His breath caught in his throat, and his fingers dug into your skin. You smirked, enjoying his reaction to your teasing. "You like that, don't you?" You observed slyly. Before you could give him the opportunity to respond, you bit down on the muscle at the base of his neck, not enough to be painful but enough to leave a mark.

He moaned loudly, an unrestrained sound that demonstrated the power you had over him. You released the skin between your teeth before moving them up his neck and biting him there, gentler than before. You were fairly certain he stopped breathing for a moment as you bit down on his soft skin. When the moment passed, you let go again, moving your mouth up and nipping his earlobe.

Miguel was practically paralyzed by your touch, and you could feel his heart racing wildly under your hand. He was completely at your mercy, unable to stop you even if he had wanted to.

But you knew he didn't want you to stop.

Still holding a fistful of his hair, you pulled firmly and tilted his head back to expose his neck to you. Letting his earlobe slip out of your teeth, you moved your mouth to his jaw, placing a kiss on the skin there before gently biting it.

He groaned your name. There was a desperate edge to his voice that made your cunt ache for him. When you moved your lips up to his, he kissed you with such fervor that it was less like he was kissing you and more like he was trying to devour you, like being completely pressed against you wasn't close enough.

"I need to...be inside you," he gasped, his lips still trying to kiss you as he spoke. He sounded as breathless as you felt, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his eyes were hungry with his desire for you.

Maybe if it hadn't been so long since you'd been together, you would've prolonged the teasing, exacerbated his frustration, but you found that you were also desperate to feel him inside you. Every inch of your body burned for him, and you knew he burned for you, too.

Settling back down slowly on his lap, you allowed Miguel to guide your hips to his cock. Your forehead rested against his, and you gave a small gasp when you felt the tip tease at the entrance of your pussy. Giving Miguel another messy kiss, you lowered yourself down his length.

God, he felt good.

Your head lolled back as he stretched you out so perfectly for the first time in weeks. Miguel released a hot breath against the skin of your neck, his hands holding your hips tightly as he slid into your tight cunt.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I've missed this."

If you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would've pointed out it was his own damn fault for making the stupid rule in the first place. But right now, the only thing on your mind was that you needed to move your body against his.

Raising your hips up again, a loud groan spilled from your lips. You'd almost forgotten just how big he was. His cock was buried deep inside you, setting every nerve on fire. Every muscle in your body tightened with the feeling of his dick sliding out of you, and your hands, one still in his hair and the other holding onto his back, curled tightly as you clung to him.

You moved back down again, your eyes closed tightly with the sensations of riding him. Miguel's hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as you moved slowly up and down the length of his cock. His breathing was shaky, and so was yours. Neither of you said anything as you took the time to reacquaint yourselves with the feeling of each other's bodies.

You soon grew impatient with the slow pace you were keeping. You raised your hips off of his lap with greater need, grinding your pussy down hard against him as you did. Miguel's reaction was immediate, and you heard a growl deep in his throat. His hands encouraged your pace and eased some of the effort off of your knees.

The sound of your ass smacking against his lap filled the air, and combined with the sounds of his heavy panting, it only fueled your lust-crazed mind. Blinking open your eyes, you looked at Miguel and found that he was staring up at your face. A shimmer of sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his lips were parted as he breathed hard.

Your eyes locked with his dark gaze. Even as you continued to move along his length, you couldn't help but feel utterly paralyzed by his stare, so brazen and intentional, completely in awe of you. It made you feel powerful, revered.

Loved.

You managed to break out of your paralyzed stupor and crash your lips down on his. Now, you were the one who felt as though you couldn't be close enough to him. Even with his cock pumping in and out of you with ever-increasing speed, you wondered if there was anything that could satisfy your need for him.

Your pace was uncontrollable now. Small, whining moans escaped your mouth with every rise and fall of your hips. Miguel's fingers dug into your waist tightly, and he grunted as he pulled away from your lips.

"Wait," he gasped quietly.

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze. Was something wrong? Were you doing something he didn't like?

Miguel's face struggled to compose itself. "You need to slow down," he finally said. You stared at him for a second before you understood what was happening.

A wicked grin grew on your face. "Why?" You asked deviously. Miguel shot you a glare, his chest heaving. "You know why," he grunted. "Just slow down."

Still wearing your devilish smile, you started moving your hips again. "I don't want to," you told him, your words sounding almost childish as you choked back a whine. Miguel cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought against the pleasure your cunt brought him.

"Wait, wait," he groaned again, trying to hold you still. Now, this was a power trip if you'd ever felt one. You knew you were only a few moments away from causing him to unravel. Now, he was begging you to ease up because he knew he couldn't last against you.

You grabbed his jaw in one hand, forcing his face to look up at you. "Why should I?" You demanded to know. He was panting hard, and his eyes seemed hazy and unfocused.

"I need to take care of you first," he managed to breathe. You huffed an amused breath. He never failed to get you off, and despite the fact that you were more than happy to finish him off in record timing, you were inclined to let him take over for you.

Miguel placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Let me take care of you," he pleaded in a whisper. "Let me taste you."

The thought alone of what he could do with his tongue was enough to make you moan. Instead of replying, you kissed him hard before lifting your hips up off of him entirely. You felt a twinge of regret from the loss of his cock inside you, but when he slowly rolled you over, the rush of anticipation quickly replaced it.

Miguel pulled you to the edge of the bed, careful not to cause your stitches to hit the comforter. With your good arm, you were propped up by your elbow while he slowly moved down your body. He placed tantalizing kisses on your throat, your collar, your breasts, your stomach, practically every inch of your body he could see. With every kiss, you felt like your body was slowly being set on fire, and you moaned impatiently as he slid off the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms under your thighs the way he loved to do.

When his mouth finally landed over your pussy, you nearly fell back against the bed. A cry of pleasure tore from your throat. The hand you weren't leaning on came up and grabbed his hair while you squirmed in his grip. His lips were sealed over your pussy. He was alternately sucking at your clit and circling it with his tongue. You struggled to breathe as he continued working at a careful pace.

"Miguel," you gasped, your thighs flexing beneath his hands.

Miguel moaned against you, his movements growing faster and faster. His head pressed firmly against you. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you tried to keep your arm from buckling. His tongue moved expertly against you, lapping hungrily at your swollen clit. You tugged at his hair as you tried moving under his arms, but his grip kept you in place.

Your head fell back with a long whine. You knew at the rate he was going that you weren't going to last long. He was all too familiar with the way your body worked, and he knew exactly where to focus his efforts to get you off.

Lifting your head up again, you blinked your eyes open to look down at him. Half of his face was blocked by your arm, so you released the hold you had on his hair, letting your hand trace the edge of his face. His dark eyes were gazing up at you intently, watching your every reaction.

Letting your hand fall away from his face, it rested on your thigh as you let out another high-pitched moan. Without stopping his tongue, Miguel released his grip on your leg and took your hand in his. You looked down at him and squeezed his hand while he continued swirling his tongue over your pussy.

"Don't stop," you panted, your stomach tensing from his movement. He tightened his grip in two quick pulses, and even though his mouth never left your cunt, you could practically hear the words he was thinking—I won't.

Your legs were shaking now, and you barely had the strength to keep yourself up off the bed. Pleasure was taking over your body and coiling at your stomach. Miguel knew you were close by the quickening of your breath and the tightening of your grip, his tongue maintaining its steady pressure.

Finally, with a loud cry, your body began trembling under his touch. You squeezed his hand hard as you came against his mouth. The feeling of ecstasy burned in every part of your body while you struggled to breathe from the pleasure that had now completely overwhelmed you.

Miguel eased his pace to lazy circles, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. You writhed under his mouth, growing restless from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel. "Oh, fuck," you gasped, moving your hips to escape his warm tongue. He let you move away from his face, releasing his grip on your hand and thigh.

Miguel pushed himself off the ground and began crawling over your body. "See?" he said in satisfaction, sounding out of breath. "I'll always take care of you." You moaned again, still trying to recover from your high. "Careful O'Hara," you managed to say. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He smirked down at you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. Pushing forward, his body forced yours down. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, clinging to him to keep from laying on the bed. "Not like this—my stitches," you whispered.

Miguel froze for a second before placing a hand behind your back to help you up. "How do you want it?" He asked quietly. You took a second and bit your lip as you considered the myriad of ways he could fuck you.

"Like before," you decided finally.

His subtle smile returned, and he rolled off of your body and onto the bed. Pulling yourself up, you straddled him again, though perhaps not so fast since you were still hazy from your orgasm. His hands guided you back down to where his cock was waiting for you.

Miguel rested his head on your good shoulder as you lowered yourself slowly back down on him. His hot breath fanned against your skin as he groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy around him. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling yourself stretch out again for him. You moved slowly, still halfway stuck in the stupor his mouth had left you in, and everything was still so sensitive for you.

Gradually, you began moving again. Miguel's arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing his body up against yours. His skin felt like fire—burning, consuming, enthralling. You rested your head against his as his strong arms helped lift you up and down his length.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted quietly against your cheek. "You don't understand...what you do to me." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder as he spoke. The movement of his cock inside you made it difficult for you to formulate a response, but you managed to choke out, "Tell me. Tell me what I do to you."

He groaned softly. "You drive me fucking crazy," he muttered. "I can never focus when you're with me—," he groaned again, "—but I can never stop thinking about you when you're not." His arms were moving you up and down faster as he spoke, and you could tell he was fucking out his frustration. "The way you smell," he continued breathlessly, "the way you feel, the way you look when you're cumming all over my cock."

You gasped sharply, the combination of his words and his increasingly desperate pace rendering you speechless. "I want to have you every second...of every day," he murmured in your ear. You were panting hard against his skin while his cock continued driving deep into your aching cunt.

"Then have me," you whispered so quietly that he wouldn't have heard it over the lewd sounds of your fucking if it hadn't been said directly in his ear. "Have me every day."

He groaned, and turning his face, he captured your lips in a kiss. The taste of your pussy still lingered on his mouth, and you moaned softly against his lips. Everything felt so good, and when you broke away from your kiss, you looked deep into Miguel’s eyes and whispered, “I’m yours.”

And just like that, Miguel's body tensed, and with a long moan against your skin, he came inside you. You stilled as he held you tightly against his body. Beside the sound of your heart beating furiously in your ears, there was only your heavy breathing to fill the silence between you.

You could've stayed like that forever, feeling his strong arms wrapped around your body, hearing his breath against your ear. Your body still buzzed with pleasure, and there was nothing in your mind except that cursed phrase you fought so hard to ignore, the one that whispered to you constantly in the back of your brain every time you looked at Miguel.

I love you.

Over and over, it echoed in your mind, begging to be spoken. You'd heard it nagging in your heart for a while now, and you had tried your best to ignore it. Even after weeks of next to no contact, your feelings hadn't wavered for him.

Now, as you sat there wrapped in each other's arms, you felt those words ringing louder than ever, and for one dreadful moment, you thought you might say it out loud.

No—no, you couldn't. A bolt of fear yanked the words off your tongue. You couldn't jeopardize this. It was too precious to you. Even if this was all you could have, the occasional fuck, sleeping together knowing that he would always have to leave for something more important than yourself—wasn't it better than nothing? Wasn't it better than before when you were all alone? Especially now that he admitted to feeling something real for you, you couldn't ruin it with those three words.

Miguel finally moved when he turned his head toward yours. Your noses brushed against each other for moment as you both gasped for breath before your lips pressed down on his. You moaned against him softly. Still holding your body to his, he leaned back against the bed, bringing you down with him so that you lay on his chest.

After your breathing began leveling out, you shifted, allowing his cock to pull out of you with a groan. You slid off his chest onto your good shoulder with your body still pressed against his. You lay there like that for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's warm skin.

"It's been too long," Miguel sighed, finally breaking the silence. You smiled. "And whose fault is that?" You asked as you looked up at him. A small smile formed on his lips. "You were the one who swore you'd catch Ghost," he pointed out. "Is it my fault for believing you?"

You scoffed. "It's your fault for making that stupid rule in the first place," you argued. There was a quiet chuckle that rumbled in his chest. "It's called compromise, sweetheart," he said smoothly. "I can't let you have everything you want."

You tried to keep a straight face, but his snark caused your lips to quirk upward. "And why not?" You demanded to know, propping yourself up onto your elbow to look deep in his eyes.

Miguel looked at you with a subtle smile still adorning his face. "Because then everyone is going to complain about how I favor you over everyone else," he replied evenly. "And then, one by one, they'll all leave until it's just you and me."

You hummed thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound so bad," you said, settling back down next to him. "Just you and me against the multiverse."

He hummed as well. "Just you and me," he repeated, and in his voice, you could hear him imagining it, the two of you together across every universe.

You had imagined it before, too. You and Miguel, together, always, through everything. It was such a sweet dream, and yet the truth was the bitter chaser that always followed your longing—different dimensions, different lives. What future could you have together?

If Miguel was thinking the same thing, he didn't say it. He seemed content to just lay with you in silence while his fingers gently caressed your arm.

After a moment, you sighed. You could feel Miguel's head turn to look down at you in curiosity.

"You know, I meant what I said before," you told him softly.

"Hmm?"

"About being more than just a fling you can ignore outside of the bedroom," you explained.

"Ah."

You felt his head turn back up to stare at the ceiling, but his fingers still brushed against your skin. "I mean, is that what you still want?" You asked, lifting your gaze to look at his face. "Be honest."

There was a beat of silence before he quietly answered, "No."

You waited, hoping he would say more. He sounded almost reluctant in his reply, so you could tell there was more to it.

It was Miguel's turn to sigh. "I don't—I don't want this to be casual either," he began slowly. "I want it to be real, but I can't give up my work here. I won't. And one day, you'll hate me for not putting you first."

You scoffed lightly at those last words. "I could never hate you," you told him. There was a slight pause before he muttered, "Don't be so sure."

It could've been a joke, but the way he said it was so serious, it made you pause, and looking up at his face, you found there wasn't any traces of humor. You pushed yourself up a bit to face him better. His eyes moved back to you, and you held his stare for a moment.

"I could never hate you," you repeated in a soft, earnest whisper. Miguel didn't respond, he only watched you carefully before a tiny, sad smile pulled at his lips, looking as though he wanted to believe you.

"Careful," he murmured. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

You smirked at him and leaned in close. "I'll try my best not to," you said before closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently before pulling away to say, "And I'll try—about what you want, I'll try."

Your heart leapt, and there wasn't anything you could do to contain your smile. "Thank you," you whispered before kissing him again. You could feel him grinning against your lips, and his arms pulled you close. When you broke apart, you settled back down next to him.

"If they all start complaining though, I'm blaming you," he said. You chuckled. "Fair is fair," you replied. "If they don't like it, they can leave." He huffed in amusement. "Until it's just you and me?" He asked.

"Until it's just you and me."

[bengiyo]

Only Friends: They Can't Sit With Me

I’ve been trying to find the words to express my consternation about Only Friends properly for weeks. Now that we’ve finished the show, I think I can say it plainly: The show just isn’t that deep, and the characters are unintentionally some of the worst gays you know. They can't sit with me and mine.

In so many ways this show avoided saying much for most of its runtime by just presenting the characters and putting them in situations. This would generally have been fine until the final episodes where the push to marry off the characters within their actor pairs coupled with the decision to punish Boston exclusively for any of the wrongs he had committed this season.

I hate feeling like I must defend Boston, because he was not a good friend to his squad. He introduced Top to their group just to fuck with Ray of all people for some reason. Then he got jealous when Top took a shine to Mew. He fired Ray at Top and Mew, and misrepresented a video he took of them to get Top to hook up with him one more time. (As a note, I also hold responsible for his decision to fuck around with Boston and withhold that information from Mew as well, but we’ll get there.) However, Boston is one of the only people in this show not using sex as leverage over the person he’s with or hounding people about putting out.

I hate that this show kept comparing other characters to Boston when Ray is fucking around with Sand while he’s seeing Mew. Top and Mew are playing their little stupid games about sex the whole time. Nick is pretending to be okay about stuff that he isn’t and using a sex tape as blackmail. Boston becomes the victim of blackmail and revenge porn in this show! Why is he the one who deserves to be punished for anything wrong that he did exclusively while everyone else is in “happy friend land” at the end of this show?

Also, what the fuck was the point of Boeing? They introduced Boeing as like a final boss but he revealed NOTHING about any of the characters, especially Top! Force did such a thankless and difficult job in this show only to get stuck in an enigmatic character that we can never get a secure read for. Boeing showed up and seemed like he was more of all of them, and we learned nothing because of his intrusion, and he gets rejected in the most perfunctory way possible as the final source of drama. Disappointing.

As I reflect on this show, I wish it had been episodic instead of a serial. The problem Only Friends has is that in the end it becomes a single story that took 12 weeks to tell. All this drama was so aggravating because these homos DO NOT have each other’s backs. Mew helps Boston out of a sticky situation just so he can be morally superior to Boston. Top helps Ray out of a situation and many of us thought that Top could have been the one who called the cops on the party! Cheum decides to castigate Ray AS HE’S BEING ARRESTED FOR DRUG POSSESSION. Cheum accuses Boston of assaulting her brother under false pretenses, never offers him a real apology, and then thinks that Boston should abase himself before the group at the end. If this show had been episodic, each episode could have been about a gay issue within this group and resolved itself within the episode while continuing larger arcs.

I feel like the angst between Boston and Mew went to waste. Why are they jealous of each other? Why didn’t they hate fuck? Mew is a virgin and Top was his first time. Why did we not unpack how Mew views himself after having sex for the first time? He had been holding out for so long and we never spend time with him really understanding how sex impacted him. Why wouldn’t he touch Ray at that point? Sure, he was never into Ray that way, but what is the core of his sexual preciousness?

This show spent the entire final episode taking a victory lap around Boston losing everything and celebrating these dysfunctional ass couples getting together, only to end on a scene of Mew being interested in Mix’s character as Top looks on worried. What a terrible place to end. We never understood Mew’s thing about sex and especially Top. We never understood Top. After dunking on Boston one final time, we end on Mew wanting to flirt with someone else? Terrible.

These people are still young, but this is not what community looks like. These characters are mean to each other in a way that makes me really worry about the shit that this queer team had suffered as they came of age and entered the scene. I believe in queer community. I believe in helping the people in our spaces even if I don’t like them personally. Even at their worst in Queer as Folk, those guys and gals had each other’s backs. Where was that energy here?

They are truly terrible friends. In so many ways, I was grossed out about the way a bunch of homos turned on the slut in their group only to end the show on a game of spin the fucking bottle where they made Sand make out with Top. It feels so weird that a group of queer people essentially ostracized one of their own for failure to conform with monogamous norms. NOT A SLAY.

Beyond that, I feel like most of the cast didn’t even get to play against type! Khaotung playing drunk so consistently was impressive, but he’s always been a pretty, rich, shit stirrer in most of his roles. First is always a grumpy simp. Book is always the virgin. Force got to be a jerk in a really fun way, but we never understood the interiority of his character. Mark and Neo got to do different stuff, and I really hope Neo gets an award for the way he fully embodied Boston.

I had a lot of hope for this show, but in the end, it will just be remembered as an amusing romp that fell flat in the back half for me. With that, I am done with Only Friends, and hoping to be done with GMMTV in a while, honestly. Between this, Hidden Agenda, Dangerous Romance, and a Boss and a Babe, I’m quite over it.

We wrote so much about this show trying to mine depth from it and the well was too shallow. It’s alright for us to admit that this show wasn’t that deep. We can admit that it was just a lot of fun for a few months. “This show is fun” (read: easy to fap to) and “This show is good” can form a Venn diagram, but that is not a circle. You gotta know when to fold ‘em.

[edapparently]

Dark Rise by C. S. Pacat - My Thoughts

So I'm doing another book "review" post. I'm mainly making this because of how strongly I feel about this book, there will be many spoilers, so if you are only part way through or are intending to read Dark Rise by C. S. Pacat then you should not read this post I bought Dark Rise out of a desire to try something new. If you know me, then I don't need to tell you how much I adore Comedy Science Fiction. But Dark Rise is a Dark Fantasy, a genre I am new to, and I was willing and open to giving it a shot. I had also bought it from the small library section of "The Gay Shop" in my city - a store that sells things specifically for and about the LGBTQ+ community. And I had figured that even if I didn't enjoy the story, I could at least get a little kick out of the queer elements of the story. After all, who doesn't look forward to the prospect of some kind of gay Fantasy Romance? Even if it is weaved into a larger and darker plot. However, I finished the book last night and found myself not only dissatisfied, but annoyed and disappointed. The first half of the book, I have no issues with, I actually enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. However, this first sign that things would start going downhill struck me in Chapter 17, which is not long before the book's halfway point. The chapter begins very well and it was probably the only time in the book I found Katherine entertaining to read about because of her perspective and how her own expectations of what a Lady is supposed to be, based on "polite society", weigh upon her mind. The problem I have comes when Will strikes up an immediate romance with her. They meet once and we are expected to want Will and Katherine to get together. I don't like this for two big reasons. The first is that it feels forced, Katherine had only appeared once in the whole story beforehand and only for a single chapter. Not only that, but Katherine and Will kiss the very next time they meet (Chapter 23), and that one meeting they have does not spark any kind of a convincing romance between them. The second reason is that it is extremely irritating to see the Heterosexual romance allowed to be shoved into the forefront, but any kind of queer love is reserved for quiet whispers, implication, villains or the dead. In a book that loves to occasionally wink and nod about two men being romantically interested in each other, there is actually little to almost no actual gay romance within the story. Sure, we meet gay characters, plenty of them. Most of them die before they do anything, however. There is never once a kiss, or even a hand held between two men. The closest thing I can think of is the scene of Devon and Tom in Violet's house while she's snooping, but that never goes anywhere because we never see Tom again after that. It feels strangely passive aggressive, though I don't believe that to be the intention of the author. Something that feels like a real slap in the face though, is the final chapter. Will and James meet, alone, and they basically flirt. The idea of them being together is brought up, they think about it... and nothing. The book just ended. It is aggravating, to say the least. The worst part of it all is that Dark Rise had a lot of potential, I didn't go into it wanting to dislike it, I even enjoyed it for a while. But as a gay reader, I think I had my expectations too high for Pacat's intentions for her queer characters. I don't think I will read the sequel, Dark Heir, unless I hear better of it. If I really think about the time I had reading Dark Rise, I don't want to think of this book as bad, but regardless, it did very much disappoint me. In conclusion, if Dark Rise was a plane I would describe it like this: "It has a promising, even wonderful, take off. Shame about all the bodies they found at the crash site, though."

[nesiacha]

Pierre Gaspard Chaumette

Chaumette is, in my eyes, one of the most complex revolutionaries of this period. He is very interesting, but at times I wanted to applaud him and shake his hand, and at other times I wanted to booed him or even punch him in the face. It's really strange, and this feeling lasted until the end. Frankly, the mix of admiration and exasperation (an understatement for the two feelings mentioned) he inspires in me is disconcerting even to myself.

In a way, he embodies one of the most generous aspects of the revolution and, at the same time, one of the most conservative, even reactionary, aspects, sometimes verging on the lamentable. He is truly a paradoxical character, much more so than other revolutionaries. That’s why, in my eyes, he is one of the most fascinating figures of the French Revolution to study.

Positive Aspects:

He went much further in the fight against slavery than others (notably compared to Olympe de Gouges); for example, he supported the Haitian revolts with great enthusiasm. One could say he was an anti-colonialist, which demonstrates that he firmly believed not only in the freedom of metropolitan France but also in the freedom of other peoples (perhaps this idea took root when he was a naval officer in the American War of Independence, but we know his fight against slavery was due to his stay in the West Indies).

Like other revolutionaries, he was against the issue of war, a decision that proved to be the right one.

He sought to emancipate the French people from religious aspects that infantilized them.

Contrary to the black legend, he did not participate in the September massacres.

Let’s not forget that he lived with other revolutionaries in a very complicated and infernal period, aggravated by a war he did not want and fight. Plus the royalists threats were not empty words

He fulfilled his role as the prosecutor of the Paris Commune with great care. He championed the principle of providing individual beds in hospitals, for example, and the equality of funeral rites for both the rich and the poor. He advocated for the maximum and only intervened in the Convention with the sections of the sans-culottes when he deemed it necessary for measures that proved to be good, such as the maximum and the raising of a revolutionary army. He fought against poverty. He did not use armed force to throw deputies out and get elected (at the same time, the sans-culottes would have dismantled him if he had tried, and he wouldn’t have succeeded). As for the Girondins (the 21 placed under arrest), let’s not forget they were responsible for a war that Chaumette and many others did not want, which worsened the revolution’s situation, and moreover, the Gironde wanted their heads and other deputies had gravely disrespected them (an understatement when we consider Isnard's speech). I feel that Chaumette did not want power; he was part of that group of revolutionaries who would oversee the government to ensure it responded to the people's needs and would only intervene if he deemed it necessary, which is ultimately a good thing. Moreover, he was pragmatic and more reasonable than others; he refused to rise alongside other Hébertists for an insurrection against the Montagnards (some argue he was satisfied with the Convention's compensation on the Ventôse law, ultimately not applied, and knew the Convention was in a tough situation and it was better not to push). Ultimately, his execution was a grave mistake. One could say he was a man who lived for the revolution until the end and died with disinterest.

Negative Aspects:

The gross opportunism he displayed, along with others, to eliminate the Enragés and resume his petitions. Just a big no for me.

Apparently, but this needs proof, so maybe what I'm saying is false, he was complicit with Hébert (alongside Pache and Jacques-Louis David) in the disgusting false accusation concerning Marie Antoinette and her son (so horrible I won't repeat it). He should have died of shame for even thinking of doing that.

His great misogyny, which is appalling, even worse than other revolutionaries who refused to grant more rights to women's citizenship. Just reading his speeches makes you facepalm and want to hit him. And apparently, it was worse for prostitutes.

When he invaded with Hanriot and the sans-culottes to demand the arrest of the Girondins, they made a grave violation of the law, regardless of whether they had good reasons or not.

It’s true he supported the harshest laws, no matter how understandable his frustration was with many others, you don't "play" (forgive the expression) with judicial safeguards. He let Hébert, his deputy, unleash demands for executions, including those of innocents (General Custine among many others). So in the best case he is responsible and in worst case he encourage or maybe give him orders as Hebert was less senior as he didn't have the same rank in Commune than him although Hebert acted freely.Plus somewhere it allowed madmen like Carrier, Barras, Fouché (although more out of opportunism than a fervent revolutionary, especially when we know Fouché well) to try to exonerate themselves from the horrible acts they committed while trying to rely on the unusual harshness of certain aspects of the revolution.

The imposition of dechristianisation of people that didn't want that. Can't answer intolerance by other intolerance . Yes secularism is very important but cannot prevent people from following a religion. Plus it exasperated a lot of French people at that time bad move ( already talk in one my post of this https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/744960791081631744/the-difference-in-treatment-between-the-indulgents?source=share)

It's interesting to see that by lowering "the safeguards" and legal security, the revolutionaries programmed their own disappearance in a way (I simplify because it's more complicated than that they were not bloodthirst and there is too much black legend on them). I know wartime laws cannot be the same as peacetime laws, but one must be very careful even if there was an infernal situation. And if Chaumette’s execution can rightly be judged as unjustified, he, in a way, also programmed his own disappearance with others. But whatever happens when we analyze all the aspects of the frev we can only be admiring but also disappointed in the missed appointments of this period which could have been magnificent. And that’s really what comes out of Chaumette

[catsharkzzz]

greifer beats up plant hunting guys for fun and his anger issues :3 also cause he’s forced to like plants , cause I personally think he has a plant curse like vine staff. except it’s a big plant not a tree. And like the venomshank aggravates his curse to become.. dat thang..

coming back to plant guys, he used to look at those posters on the town’s board or something to look for victims. he’s just really bratty and aggressive, and he wants a way to relieve it without riling up his dad.

I also think he was more nonchalant before he got corrupted by hatred.. like “does it look like I care?” type of person, Since mayor thaniyel says “Brad!!! This isn’t like you!!” so he wasn’t always like that .. nonchalant but a bit loud at times.

tho I will say, Brad has probably always had hatred for his dad. but when u go back to Griefers crib, him and his dad aren’t there anymore. like his dad took him to the hospital and that tamed some of his hatred .

I don’t rlly know why he has hate for his dad but it’s probably something personal he will never tell us. even tho we’re pretty good at keeping secrets , and we will become besties in demo 4 like the cruel king, confirmed by campy , pic is on the wiki. tho campy hasn’t completely decided whether we fight brad or plant separately.

what I’m begging for is that we visit post recovery brad in the hospital? or clinic? and he apologizes or something like that. and gives us the call card. If this happens, we might also get a gift from mayor thaniyel for helping them . I actually have another idea, but it’s a bit of a stretch. we cure/help him recover from the curse, or at least almost stop it from happening. ya it’s a stretch

- utensil

all of this is good and all, but i really dont think brad would have ever hated his dad. im so going to take this as an opportunity to dump stuff ive been holding onto for monthhsss bro all the scs below are from back when demo 3 like . first released, maybe a couple days after. for some prefacing, i have a whole headcanon about brad/greifers biological father being guest 666 (or roku, as i call him) ; who himself has fathered much too many children to count across multiple universes. and brad is one of them. brad doesnt know anything at all about his biological father, as he was surrendered to thaniyels doorstep as an infant. he's no idea who his mother is either, as a result.

none of this really has anything to do with your stuff you have going on at all, im sorry about that... i just have been WAITING to get all this stuff out. so thanks for the opportunity at least!

[ghostlysundae]

Ninjago is a show where early seasons were riddled with misogyny that not only affected the few female characters it had but also sabotaged the potential of some of the male ones in this essay I will:

LIKE IF A FEMALE CHARACTER WASN'T THERE TO BE THE TOKEN WOMAN SHE ONLY EXISTED TO BE A LOVE INTEREST. Nya's relationships with male characters will more often than not be them hitting on or pursuing her. If a male character isn't Wu, Zane, or Kai then they have randomly flirted with her or fought with Jay for her attention at one point or another. Skylor and Pix's characters don't experience this issue because, Pix quite literally could not talk to anyone except Zane for a while. Sky just walked herself out of the show and only occasionally shows up. Nya's not allowed to have non-romantic male relationships outside the ninja, hell she doesn't even get to interact with her much brother anymore and her parents are still basically not in the picture.

Coles character got sabotaged in season 3 because he randomly has an interest in Nya. Instead of giving him or Nya a nice character arc the writers rather use them purely for relationship drama that frankly just feels boring or unpleasant to watch. Coles still an amazing character, however, season 3 leaves a stain on it and it was unfortunately one of the biggest things he was known for besides ghost stuff til season 13 rolled around.

Then there's side characters randomly hitting on her like Shifty in prime empire, shade in Hunted, the guy in wus tea, and etc.

Ronins one of the BIGGEST examples of the writers sabotaging a character and their relationship with Nya so they can have pointless drama that goes no where and never gets mentioned or brought up again. Like instead of letting Nya have a friend/father figure she has things in common with and can talk to they rather just make him another guy who's attracted to her, it doesn't affect the story in any way at all and it FEELS SO FORCED AND UNNECESSARY!! HE WAS HELPING HER GET THROUGH HER ISSUES AND SHE GUINUENELY FELT COMFORTABLE TALKING TO HIM WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT???

I really wished they used Nya and Ronins arcs to show how everyone learns differently, like Wus way of teaching her honestly didn't do much except aggravate and annoy her. Ronin could almost immediately spot why she was struggling and gave her advice that genuinely helped her gain control over water, and after she reversed water successfully for the first time and got really excited about it; Ronin walked away from her SMILING. I just want THAT version of Ronin and Nya back, it was amazing.

[gartenofbanny]

Millie is not protective of Moxxie when it comes to Blitzo doing shit to Moxxie or getting involved with their relationship. Don't believe me? Time for me to make a list.

WARNING ⚠️⚠️: MENTIONS OF RAPE, SA, & THE R-WORD

It's established that Millie is Moxxie's knight in shining armor. Millie is Mario while Moxxie is Princess Peach. Millie is always there to protect Moxxie but only when it comes to the antagonists of the episode. Throughout the show, I've noticed that whenever Blitzo and (sometimes) Loona says or does something which aggravates Moxxie, Millie doesn't do anything to actually stop either of them. With Blitzo she mainly plays it off. Today I'm going to list the things that Blitzo and Loona have done and also I'm going to point out a few things that Millie should've done to at least help out Moxxie, but she didn't because humor.

The Pilot

Now, as always this problem can stem back all the way to the pilot. I can forgive some of the things she dismisses Blitzo of like being in their fridge, but there is a certain scene that Millie should've butted in because what Blitzo said was completely unnecessary. That being the infamous scene where Blitzo calls Moxxie the R-word. Millie doesn't say or do anything to Blitzo despite the fact that he pretty much insulted Moxxie with a very offensive word. Only after the scene, Millie decides to defend Moxxie by indirectly insulting him? Telling Loona that he wasn't easy to manage and calling Loona a "bitch" shortly afterward.

And it only gets worse because once the kid insults Moxxie pretty much calling him a spineless jackass, Millie defends him right then and there. Millie for the most part was dick-riding Blitzo throughout this entire pilot. She doesn't stand up to him for Moxxie, but only does it when Eddie or Loona insults him. You'd think they'd actually fix this throughout the series, but nah.

Murder Family

In Murder Family, Millie does not do anything when Blitzo treats him like shit (or is borderline abusive towards him). Millie doesn't do shit when Blitzo grabs Moxxie by the face, insults him, and throws him into glass or trash just five minutes in the episode. Granted, Moxxie is somewhat to blame for the fire, but Millie wasn't even there to at least stick up for Moxxie towards Blitzo.

Another scene, probably more subtle than the previous one was when Blitzo was grabbing Moxxie's face and Moxxie was trying to get out of his grasp, but to no avail. Once again, Millie doesn't do shit and just talks to Blitzo while letting him grip on Moxxie's face.

Another scene in Murder Family is when Blitzo rants to Moxxie that there is probably no innocence and insults him right after. Oddly, Millie isn't even present the majority of the time when Blitzo tries to assassinate Martha. She only makes a small appearance when she escapes out of the bushes. Literally no line was given to her, what the fuck.

The last scene in Murder Family is when Blitzo pretty much threatens Moxxie to rape him and Millie. This entire scene is a wtf moment and despite the fact that Blitzo didn't get at least punched in the face by Millie or Moxxie was surprising. Millie had no problem killing Chaz once she found out that he dated Moxxie, but she doesn't even care when Blitzo threatens Moxxie that he will force himself on him and Millie. Wow.

The only time Millie actually does snap at Blitzo in Murder Family was when Blitzo just outright says that bullets would be more effective to them, but even then she doesn't say anything to Blitzo afterward. Even though the dude had almost gotten them both killed.

And that's only the first episode with other episodes (fortunately not all of them) still containing the issue. So I'm gonna skip to Spring Broken which fortunately has only two scenes I can actually point out.

Spring Broken

Blitzo, as always insults Moxxie right beside Millie and even manhandles him a little. Millie does nothing as always.

Near the end of Spring Broken, Blitzo drops a drunken Moxxie on the ground and Millie just picks him up, once again not saying anything or doing anything to Blitzo when he physically or mentally abuses her husband in front of her. So let's move onto C.H.E.R.U.B!

C.H.E.R.U.B

Moxxie gets body shamed right in front of Millie by Loona and he also gets slapped across the wall. Millie doesn't do jack shit and just moved out of the way for Moxxie to land on the wall.

Moxxie gets crushed underneath twice, and Millie doesn't do shit to help him out. She doesn't even move a little bit of rubble to at least give him some space to breathe. This is one of the moments where Millie doesn't really help Moxxie without Blitzo causing it. Now let's move on to Harvest Moon Festival!

Harvest Moon Festival

Moxxie gets pushed aside by Blitzo so the latter can introduce himself to Millie's parents right in front of Millie. Millie does nothing about it.

This is something a bit unrelated, but when Moxxie goes onto talk about how more wars were won by technical advancement instead of brute force. Millie while watching him making the rant, tries to signal him to stop, which alongside her parents and Blitzo's reactions is what made him stop. So she won't let Moxxie be himself in front of his parents or even pretend to be interested in his speaking. Neat.

Blitzo just straight up grabs Moxxie's crotch and Millie does not do anything about it. She was so fucking pissed at Chaz for dating Moxxie before they met, but when Blitzo touches Moxxie's no-no square it's suddenly fine. Hell, Blitzo does it a second time and Millie ignores this. Definitely not sharing images of this because you all know why.

Those are all I can find within Harvest Moon Festival, so now let's move onto Ozzie's.

Ozzie's

Millie doesn't tell Blitzo off when Blitzo says that he'll join Moxxie and herself on their one year anniversary. I can somewhat understand the fact that she doesn't mind it when Blitzo stalks them, but I don't understand that Millie doesn't care if Blitzo goes with them to their anniversary dinner that Moxxie has been preparing for a while. She could've at least rejected Blitzo in a respectful way, but she doesn't say anything which led to Blitzo following them anyway.

And for my last example for this post, Millie doesn't thwack Fizzarolli on his head when both he and Asmodeus decided to make fun of Moxxie. Instead, Millie does it AFTER Fizzarolli and Asmodeus finish roasting both her husband and Blitzo which was really fucking weird.

Conclusion

When it comes to Millie's main character trait of being protective of Moxxie, it's pretty much forgotten whenever Blitzo does his shenanigans around or towards Moxxie. This could be a somewhat hidden character trait of Millie, but I honestly highly doubt it, especially after the tweet Vivziepop released regarding Millie's character. So this was as a blog listing each and every part of Millie not taking action against Blitzo at all. With Season 2 released, there are still a few moments where Millie still does this, but I'm gonna leave that for a future post cause listing all of those has made me very tired. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Adria R. Walker at The Guardian:

The Haitian Bridge Alliance, a non-profit organization that “provides migrants and immigrants with humanitarian, legal and social services”, filed criminal charges against Donald Trump and JD Vance over their inflammatory, racist remarks about Haitian immigrants. The rhetoric has led to threats of violence in Springfield, Ohio, including more than 30 bomb threats, forced evacuations of schools and government buildings and violence against Haitians in the city. The filing comes after both the Republican presidential candidate and his running mate made false statements about Haitian immigrants in Springfield, alleging that they were stealing and eating their neighbors’ pets. The charges include disrupting public services, making false alarms, two counts of telecommunications harassment, aggravated menacing, and complicity. Ohio law allows the public to file criminal charges in the same way a prosecutor would. In this case, the Haitian Bridge Alliance is asking the Clark county municipal court to affirm that there is probable cause that Trump and Vance committed the crimes, and to issue arrest warrants for them both. “Trump and Vance have knowingly spread a false and dangerous narrative by claiming that Springfield, Ohio’s Haitian community is criminally killing and eating neighbors’ dogs and cats, and killing and eating geese,” the affidavit reads. “They accused Springfield’s Haitians of bearing deadly disease. They repeated such lies during the presidential debate, at campaign rallies, during interviews on national television, and on social media.”

Trump continued perpetuating the statements even after they had been confirmed to be false, while Vance recently remarked that he was willing to “create stories” for political gain. They continued to repeat what the filing calls an “orchestrated … campaign of lies” that “spread a false narrative that Haitians in Springfield are a danger”.

Haitian Bridge Alliance files criminal charges against JD Vance and Donald Trump over their hatred-fueled and racist incitements against Haitians in Springfield, Ohio.

See Also:

HuffPost: Haitians Want Trump Arrested For 'Harmful Lies.' The Campaign Responded With Another Lie.

[i-might-write]

Kuchiki Byakuya: insecurities

Fandom: Bleach

Kuchiki Byakuya is a man that grew up under immense pressure. From a very young age, everyone's eyes had been following his every move - both inside and outside of his clan.

Some of his more superficial insecurities are rooted in that very scrutiny and constant judgment too.

His every word and gesture had been an object of scrutiny for long enough to forge the perfect clan head and then also a captain. Dealing with nobility is a headache even on a good day, but it becomes a true battle of wills when one of Byakuya’s decisions isn't up to their liking.

It is a given that the nobility is going to use every single insecurity and vulnerability in Byakuya’s facade just to prove a point. But even if he eventually became better at dealing with them, sometimes their words and scheming just finds a crack in his armor.

Every once in a while Byakuya faces a situation that brings out the things he is careful not to think about. Regardless of his completely unreadable facade, they are still difficult to get out of his head, though. He is prone to overthinking his decisions, trying to find any possible mistakes or things he might've overlooked initially. The amount of responsibility he has on his shoulders is immense, and makes him feel insecure in his own skills and understanding. He knows that every single mistake he makes will be used against him by the opposing nobility.

Many times he was left alone with his thoughts after a meeting. Drowning himself in the never-ending paperwork could only work for so long before it failed too.

It's not an easy thing to notice the subtle change in Byakuya's mood, even for his significant other.

He'd never mention anything bothering him, so it's up to his spouse to notice the slight tension in his shoulders that doesn't leave him throughout the day, and the deeper than usual frown between his eyebrows. Byakuya holds his spouse close to his heart and values them greatly, but it's also out of that respect that he doesn't want to bother them with his personal issues, especially the ones rooted in his very sense of self.

He appreciates his spouse's support, no matter how small. On some days, even a simple gesture is enough to break him out of the prison of his mind.

He enjoys the kisses you press over his face or the top of his head when you walk past him in the manor. His expression wouldn't change, but some of the tension in the line of his shoulders would be released.

Byakuya has never denied you a hug, even though he's rarely the one to initiate one. He appreciates the way you always seem to know when he needs them the most. Despite his calm facade and stoic demeanor, Byakuya wouldn't be the first to let go.

Sometimes, it would be difficult for Byakuya to finish the day and mentally get rid of the accumulated stress enough to fall asleep. He'd sit on the veranda and drink some tea in hopes of clearing his head. He'd appreciate it if you decided to join him, but wouldn't force you to witness his sulking. Byakuya doesn't have a lot of space to pull down his walls and be honest with himself without anyone else watching. As his significant other, you'd be one of the very few people that could see him in that state.

He'd question himself a lot, both internally and with you if he decided to open up about his aggravated insecurities. He doesn't expect pity or an impromptu therapy session out of you, nor does he want it.

But it does feel better to voice the things that hurt and have someone else acknowledge and dismantle them one by one. A voice of reason is no less powerful when it comes in whispers and soft touches, brushing away any insecurities left.

[cf8wrk4u-us]

Transformers Prime/ A Quiet Place Crossover

Character Profile: William H. Fowler

"We were prepared for something like this...we should have had it contained...we should have won....how did we lose it all"?

Strength: 5/5

Speed: 3/5

Stealth: 4/5

Stress: 4/5

Did Agent Fowler know about the asteroids coming towards earth? He cannot disclose that.

Did he know some were headed towards New York? He cannot disclose that.

Did he know that extraterrestrial monsters were hitching a ride on those asteroids and once they landed on the planet would go on a bloody rampage on most of those poor New Yorkers before spreading through the rest if the country? Absolutely not!

While the country and the world itself was in a panic, militaries around the world were attempting to get organized. The prime objective at the time was the discovery more about the threat as well as evacuate residents from the most effected regions.

But soon enough disastrous issues arrived, one that the creatures armored body was nearly impenetrable and most of their fire arms and missiles were useless against them. Along with that attempting to evacuate all those residents and plan an attack formation proved difficult. They knew that the monsters were triggered by sound, any sound, but it seem a simple thing to practice to comply.

But soon, Agent Fowler would learn that any sound cutting through the quiet was deadly. Seeing on video how every sound; to the reloading of a fire arm, to the start of engines, to the clap of helicopters, to just the rushed steps of frightened feet often altered the creatures and unleashed a blood bath upon the poor group of soldiers and civilians.

Fowler was there for every step and attempt, every failures don't every concern. While the president had been secured and attempts have successfully been made to help the country citizens evacuate. There was still so much loss and so much not being done for the people he couldn't help.

He was there when the difficult choices came, to bomb major bridges and cities in an effort to destroy the creatures and isolate the aliens. To pull back from areas where residents were still in trouble.

But Fowler obeyed every order, not loosing hope that the U.S army will push through this. And find an end to these alien invaders.

In fact, there was some hope that a weakness was potentially found. That groups of scientists hypothesized that perhaps sound, given the creatures heightened hearing, could prove an effective weapon.

But unfortunately the sound devices they tried to use on the creatures didn't seem to hit the right frequency, ether just attracting packs of them and aggravating them into a state of aggression that proved just as deadly to the brave soldiers who risked and lost their very lives to set up those tools.

More reasearch could have been done and perhaps is still, but unfortunately the base Agent Fowler was in was already overrun at that point. He managed to survive but was forced to abandoned the men and staff he worked with for so long.

He felt like a coward, that he didnt deserve to live after so many people died. Everything felt hopeless and bleak.

But he did his best to carry forward, his goal to find one of the many cold war bunkers and hold out in there for as long as he could.

On the road, he did his best to avoid the monsters and hostil survivors. Seeing society collapse and what people left doing the unspeakably to survive. But he also saw hope, survivors figuring out clever ways to keep themselves and their families safe.

When he met the bots Optimus had just saved him from nearly being killed by a DA. He's minstrustful of the bots and skeptical of their intentions. Earth is already dealing with one invasion he dosen’t think they can fmhandel another.

But it's this reason why he also decides to help them against the Decepticons, offering any resources and support that are still available.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Oh oh oh then I’ve got a little something for you if you don’t mind a little angsty spice about Ida and Rosie with a slightly fucked headspace …🤭

um yes girl give it to us

Ok. Exploration of a SA victim’s fucked headspace below, full warning 18+ use your adult autonomy and skip out if it’s too much, take care of yourself. Just because the character is admirable doesn’t mean all their thought processes after violent abuse will be well regulated. At all. This is probably an exaggerated warning I just wanna be careful and I think there might be an assumption that with her married to Rosie, there’s no fucked up issues in their life - a la Spencer, so, caution.

Ok. The point above does stand, being married to Rosie rather ensures a massive amount of safety, lack of pressure, and even having her worst impulses, checked by his moderation. When she loathes herself, he is capable of helping disentangle the source of it. He is, as we would all anticipate, an absolute king of a husband to her.

But that does not bleach her poor brain. Or her experiences. Or her very combative aggravation with her trauma. I think that’s the best way to put it, she is competitive with her own drawbacks, and would be 10 times more impatient with her progress than Rosenthal would ever imagine being.

So some of the going too far too fast, when it happens which is infrequent, is totally on her. And it might not have been too far or too fast if she had been more careful and more measured in how she approaches it.

I think into their marriage, by the time they are finally having present, connected, non-triggering full-blown sex, she kicks herself for quite a few things she would have done differently. And she may pass that on to Lu. Whether Lu is past that being helpful advice is beside the point, Lu always wants her advice.

One of Ida’s recommendations may being going ahead and trying for full-blown sex. If she’s with someone she trusted. I think she has a slightly warped view of what was holding her back in her early marriage. I think she is partly confused as to what was her upbringing, Catholicism and trauma -all serving to influence her putting off having sex for so long. sometimes she wishes Rosie would’ve just tried, forced her to try, and gotten past the knee-jerk trauma reaction to it. Having been forced to watch Lu’s abuse repeatedly also has her with a long lasting issue about wanting it to have happened to her. She almost seeks that out. She sometimes yearns to be made to get over it in a fast way, which is impossible, but it matches her competitive nature. A harsh anecdote to a wound that needs gentle tending.

Of course she’s not going to tell Lu all of this, I think it actually only informs some of her advice, ie, her encouragement to not be ashamed of sex, to go ahead and try if she feels like it, even without being married, Etc. May go so far that she wishes she hadn’t waited as long as she did with Rosie. And in the end, totally recommend she speak with Maureen about it as Maureen has been massively helpful and eye opening for Ida about the intimacy besides intercourse available to her.

Ok. To her disgusted horror but small amount of smugness, Tilly also may occasionally forget herself and get a little too dreamy about Jack, forgetting the Ida is his sister. After wanting to gag, Ida may actually take the mechanics of that nugget and throw away the rest lol

[xiaolin-show-hoe]

Here is Prompt 3: Cracked Glass

--

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Jack Spicer was indeed a sight to behold. A 25 year old male, lean and weak, was now smashing a car window with a bat with a force to be reckoned with. The sound of smashing glass scattered across a parking garage yet was somewhat soundless if no one was there to hear it.

A breathtaking swing like a pro golfer had Jack Spicer puting the side mirrors under some cars farther down the slope towards darkness. The only thing bright in this dark place was the smile lighting up the man's face as he took another stroke sending the second mirror in the opposite direction.

It was a true work of joy to see.

The young man had a sucker in his mouth, chomping at it aggravated as he raised the bat from before to damage the windshield. The sickening crack was similar to dropping ones phone. Gut wrenching and the sound alone could split a heart in two. 

Jack Spicer hoped Jared Pulinsky could feel this pain.

His newly ex boyfriend Jared who just put out pictures of Jack that he found rather fucking rude to exploit after their relationship crashed and burned.

Fucking Jareds. 

I feel Jack on this one, Jareds can secretly be some real b-holes. 

So after Jack broke up with him over some weird money issues involving money getting taken from his wallet without asking, that buck tooth, dimwitted brunette of a trucker decided to send out some of their naughty pictures. Which is why every single hit to the truck that Jared treasured made Jack more horny than he had ever been.

After he had smashed the glass, Jack pulled out his special key he made specifically to screw this truck over. A long strong key that would be impossible to fix after he scratched through. This time he took some liberties and doodled some things through that paint job that Jack gifted to Jared. 

Cars occasionally drove through the garage and asked him what he was doing. He always answered honestly because there was nothing more satisfying then someone agreeing with him and giving their blessing to fuck up his exe's car.

Ah sweet validation.

Oh but he wasn't quite done. Oh no no, he also paid for the inside to get reupholstered. 

Jared couldn't have anything that nice on his own paycheck, surely it would be awkward to drive around in the car your ex got work done for.

Jack Spicer would be EVER SO kind and make sure it wasn't recognizable after he was done with the Golden Tiger Claw ripping into the seams of the seats. ANYTHING to make JARED more comfortable in his BRAND NEW truck.

Lastly, to put the finishing touches took out a knife and slashed the tires with all the force his thin body could do. It was tough work but hearing that sweet hiss of air and knowing his ex wouldn't be able to drive to work was just plain exciting.

And finally, the piece de resistance, stealing the catalytic converter from the underbelly of the truck. That way if he wanted to sell this new piece of shit, he would get barely a dime without the most expensive piece. After all, this piece of shit was paid for by Jack, he at least deserved the best spare part to sell for himself. 

Hmmm…maybe he could take the engine too….

Nah, Jack did more than enough to get out the message not to fuck with him, literally or figuratively.

Jack Spicer had gone soft while with Jared. He felt more love and attention from Jared than his parents ever gave him. Hell, the only person who ever lived with him longer than a month at a time was his grandma.

So this betrayal, despite dating for only 4 months, was a deep wound for him. Jack had been used and he was sick of always being the victim of these manipulative games.

They were never games to him.

It was time for Jack to start anew and it would start with this fucking truck. 

--

This last prompt for Cracked Glass is about Jack finally trying to stand up for himself once his boyfriend hurt him. However, Jack had disappeared from the monks and Heylin's lives for years at this point. So when a wu turns up one year later, they don't expect Jack nor the strange robot he sends. He leaves a message behind, "I'm done playing games."

Please feel free to check the other two prompts and answer the poll on my page♡☆

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 5)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin loves his teammates, he really does. They're his brothers in every way but blood. They'll lift him up if he hits a rough patch and keep his feet firmly on the ground when praise from the press threatens to inflate his ego. There's a few of them that are acutely tuned into his moods too, which generally he doesn't think twice about. 

Today however, he'd rather be left alone than have Kieran hovering over his shoulder. The Scotsman has been in Martin's shadow all day, a constant presence that he cannot shake. Today is an individually minded training day, each boy following their own tailored regime in the weights room for the first few hours, meaning Martin expected to be able to work off his mixed emotions. But having Kieran so close is grating on his nerves, until finally he can't stand it. 

"Mate, can I help you?"

Kieran pauses on his machine, brown eyes wide. "Erm, no? I mean I don't need a spot for leg presses so…" Kieran maintains his mask of innocence despite Martin's hard stare, which only further aggravates him. When Kieran flashes Martin a smile that's all teeth, Martin swears under his breath and resets his machine so he can turn to face his friend. 

"Why have you been shadowing me all day? You're like a- a…" Martin searches for the English word, his brain short circuiting. "A flea on a dog's back! I'm trying to work through something here-"

Kieran snaps his fingers and leans forward, "there! That's exactly what I've been waiting for- an admission! All week you've been off mate, everyone can tell. I'm just the unlucky one that got nominated to figure out why!"

Martin rolls his eyes. His lads are busy bodies. If they could mind their own business, Martin wouldn't feel so shitty because he might actually be able to process his things properly. Instead he's ended up more frustrated, because Kieran won't give him an inch to breathe. 

Yes, it's true. Martin has been quiet lately, keeping to himself more than usual. He isn't surprised that the team has picked up on it. He hasn't done anything to hide it. He's allowed Kieran to take over team talks instead of himself; anyone with half a brain would recognize his out of character behavior. That doesn't mean he's about to pour out the contents of his wilted heart to Kieran in the middle of a training session though. 

"I'm fine Kieran." Martin's response is a touch too firm, causing Kieran's eyebrows to shoot up. Martin draws a deep breath and dials it back, forcing a smile, "really, I'm fine mate. It's nothing I need to discuss, I'm working through it on my own."

Of course, being Martin's best friend means Kieran can see straight through his cheesecloth lie. It also means Kieran can read Martin like a book, thus knowing when it's best to leave an issue alone. So Kieran simply nods, murmurs a soft, 'I'm here if you need me' and continues on with his day. 

Once Kieran moves to another machine, the rubber band around Martin's chest eases enough for him to breathe properly. It allows him room to think and reflect. He needs to clear his head… which is part of the issue. 

Martin's head is a mess because you muddle his thoughts. It's gotten to the point that he can't walk outside and see the sun without thinking about you, and that terrifies Martin. 

He hasn't felt this way about anyone since the day he met Maria. She became the center of Martin's world from the moment he laid eyes on her, only shifting to make room for Atla when she was born. For three years his girls shared equal space in his heart, until fate stepped in and ripped one of them out of the picture. 

It took Atla a long time to understand what happened. Martin honestly isn't positive she understands now, actually. The weeks immediately following Maria's passing were the hardest. Each night Atla would ask for her mummy to tuck her in and listen to a story that Martin would read, and each night Martin had to gently remind her that mummy wasn't there. Martin lost count of how many times he'd told her 'Mum's in the sunset now søta, she's watching over you even if you can't see her'. Through it all, Atla rarely cried, thank god- a three year old doesn't truly know how to process grief after all. If Atla had shed tears, Martin isn't sure he would have survived. 

For two years, Martin has thrown all his energy into being a father. Anything he has to spare goes into being Arsenal's captain, and he thinks he's doing a pretty damn good job of balancing both. The learning curve was steep, and he still discovers new nuances about being a better parent nearly every day. The fathers on his team have been his backbone, though none of them understand the full weight he bears on his own shoulders. At the end of the day, they have partners to lean on. Martin only has himself. 

The scary part is, he's beginning to wonder if he's meant to be a single parent forever. He's found himself caught between a rock and a hard place: continuing to remain a loving, loyal widow, or chasing his own potential happiness. It feels like a betrayal to even consider letting someone new occupy his heart the way Maria had, but at the same time he wonders if it's fair to Atla to allow her to grow up without a maternal figure to guide her. He's not stupid; one day Atla will have questions he can't answer himself, ones that only a woman can answer properly. No matter how much research he conducts or how much he prepares himself, he will never experience the world the same way a woman might. 

Is he robbing Atla of a fundamental right, the right to grow up with a mum at her side? Everything he does is for Atla, for his daughter- is he being selfish by cutting himself off from the chance to find love?

"Oi Martin! Come on, we're headed to the pitch!"

For now, his questions will remain unanswered. He has a job to do, and he takes that job seriously. Martin quickly cleans up his mess and wipes down his machine before following the rest of his team outside for some small group drills, which is one of his favorite activities. 

Martin leads a round of keep away, passing back and forth in a small circle whilst Saka tries to intercept. It takes his mind off of anything you related, which comes as a welcome realization. Martin laughs with his friends, doubling over to clutch his stomach when Saka falls flat on his back after tripping over the ball. It feels good to be his normal self again, not having to worry about anything except the task at hand. 

The end of their session comes sooner than Martin expects. He showers and organizes his cubby, preferring things to be neat when tours come through. Then he makes his rounds to chat with the staff to ensure everyone knows they're an important part of the team in his eyes. Eventually he can't stall any longer and he is forced to head out to pick up Atla from school. 

There is a pit in his stomach as he pulls up to the limestone building. Pick up is simultaneously the part of his day that he dreads and that he looks forward to most. On one hand, pick up means he gets the rest of the night with his family. On the other hand, he has to see you, which is both a blessing and a curse. 

The gymnasium is on the opposite side of the school but he always parks out front, preferring to walk the halls and chat a bit when he can. Today he chats less, intent on seeing his daughter as soon as he can. He whistles quietly as he walks, smiling when he hears Atla clock his tune. 

"Papa's here!"

Martin is already crouched when she comes barreling over to wrap her little arms around his neck to squeeze him in a bear hug. At last Martin feels the remaining bits of his troubles melt away thanks to his daughter. She is the center of his world, and being with her makes him feel at home. 

"Hallo søta, did you learn lots today?" It takes everything in him to not immediately look up and meet your eyes. Martin still isn't sure how to act around you; he'd extended an olive branch in the form of chocolates and tulips and he is patiently waiting for you to reciprocate his energy. Until then, he is determined to leave you be.

"So much! I had a fun day- David tried chasing me on the playground but don't worry papa, I made sure he knew I wouldn't let him!" 

"She was very adamant," you say, your sweet voice drawing Martin's attention. Your smile is the first thing he truly notices. The next is the way you fiddle with the badge hanging around your neck, and the third is the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

Martin tips his head and speaks before he can filter himself. "Those boots are new, they look nice. I feel like I've seen those in the window at Harrods, no?"

"Oh, um- yes actually, they were an early birthday treat to myself actually. I saw them and couldn't resist!" 

Martin would love to unpack that, so he smiles at Atla. "Go clean up your coloring things, lille venn, okay? Go on, don't make Miss. Sunshine clean up your mess!"

Once Atla is out of earshot, Martin stands to his full height and smiles. "Happy early birthday. I suppose I'll have to get you something, seeing as you do so much for Atla."

"Oh, you really don't need to Martin! I appreciate you just wishing me a happy birthday. That's really more than enough."

Martin's heart sings when you address him by name. It amazes him how something as simple as hearing you speak his name can set a flurry of butterflies loose in his stomach. 

"I'd like to get you something, if you're alright with that? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. From one friend to another?"

There it is, another try with the olive branch. Martin silently prays you'll accept it, because in honesty he still isn't sure how he feels about this whole thing and he wants some sort of confirmation that he isn't committing a match-ending foul. 

It takes you a minute, but Martin exhales when you nod. "I think that's fine, friends give each other presents all the time… friends also come to birthday parties, yeah?"

Your voice is soft as clouds and your eyes are tentative as they search his face. Martin is certain you pick up on his amazement. You must, because you've stunned him into silence. Martin isn't a man who is silent often. 

"Mar?"

Oh, faen. Not that name.

It's as if you reached into his consciousness and plucked out the one surefire way to sink yourself into his heart. He hasn't allowed anyone to call him Mar since his wife had passed because it never felt right. But now? Martin finds himself smiling despite the twinge of bittersweet memories. 

"Yes. I'll come if you let me know the details. Friends… friends attend birthday parties, that's a friendly thing."

Martin is falling hard. Guilt gnaws at him despite the excitement that washes over him when you grin, clearly feeling much the same as he is. Your smile quiets the war in his head temporarily, reducing the cacophony of noise to a whisper in the background. 

Amazing. Absolutely amazing that you have such an effect on him. He's lived with that noise for years and in seconds, you've dulled it to nothing. 

"I'll see you there." You bite your lip and tuck your hands behind your back, which is somehow the most endearing thing. "It's at that same bar you saw me at last month, this Friday. You don't have to drink or anything I promise, I know you have a match on Sunday!"

"I'll be there, I promise." It's as if Martin is seeing you for the first time. The way the sun filters through the skylight and illuminates the gentle planes of your face mesmerizes him. He notes the little curve of your lips that grows the longer he stares. Beautiful with a selfless soul- that's how he'd describe you. 

"Papa, I'm all done!" 

Atla shatters the moment when she tugs on Martin's sleeve. She's too adorable to be upset with, so Martin gives her a pass and offers you an apologetic smile which you accept with a wave of your hand. Martin scoops up Attie with little effort, propping her on his hip and kissing her rosy cheek. 

"Say goodbye to Miss. Sunshine," Martin prompts, smiling when Atla does just that. "I'll see you tomorrow," he adds, that same smile playing on his lips. 

"Tomorrow for sure, and then Friday evening."

"Wouldn't miss it, søta."

**********

"Kieran, I need you to watch Attie on Friday."

"Uhh sure mate, what for? It's pretty short notice, but you're lucky I don't have anything planned." 

"Shut up mate- if you had plans you wouldn't let any of us hear the end of it." 

Kieran drops his weights to the padded floor. The resulting thud rumbles through Martin's bones, "Okay, for one, that's harsh even if it is true. And second, why am I watching Attie? I mean I love her and I have no problem doing it, but what's so important that you'd leave her with me?"

Martin knows he can be honest with Kieran. He's probably the one person who won't ever judge him. Regardless, Martin wants to keep this secret for a little longer, at least until he sees how Friday goes. 

"I'm just going out with some friends. You're sure you can watch Atla? I can make you up a list of what to do."

Kieran chuckles, "Mate, it's not my first time watching my goddaughter. I got this! Bedtime is eight on the weekends, no television an hour before bed, and… Friday isn't a bath night so that makes my job easy! I'll plunk her down with a set of coloring books and some blank pages and we can go wild, it'll be fun!"

"Alright yeah, that seems fair. Just don't let her have too much-"

"Sugar, yes Martin I am aware!" Kieran waves a hand flippantly, "I know what I'm doing like I've said! Just have some fun doing whatever secret mission you've got, you need to loosen up a little."

"I do not-" Martin begins to snap, but then notes Kieran's amused smile and stops himself. Martin forces himself to breathe and unwind before finishing, "I do not need to loosen up, I'm doing just fine thank you." 

"Sure mate if you say so- you're just going out with 'friends' that aren't at Arsenal, nothing odd about that!"

Again with Kieran being annoyingly perceptive. Martin is beginning to think having a best mate is more trouble than it's worth. Kieran is lucky Martin loves him because in the end, having Kieran around is more beneficial than it is a nuisance. 

Once a time for drop off is agreed upon, the two part ways. Martin only has two days to come up with an outfit that's acceptable for a night out but also doesn't scream 'I'm trying to show off in front of all your friends', which is a struggle. Considering his closet is filled with basic t-shirts and designer jackets with no real in-between, he'll have to head out after training and buy something. 

The only issue is Martin has no clue what's what when it comes to fashion. Kieran at least has some sort of idea of what's trendy and looks good…

Martin sighs and heads back over to Kieran, "Mate, are you free tonight to help me shop?"

"Shop for what?" Kieran feigns innocence as he finishes up his set of curls. "Food? Because I'd think you pay someone to do that for you. At least that's what most of us lads do!"

"Don't make this hard for me, you know what I mean Kieran." Forcing Martin to voice things he isn't ready to is like pulling teeth. Not only is he reluctant to do so, but it's also incredibly painful and Martin would prefer to keep it to himself. And for some reason, Martin feels oddly protective over you, as if letting Kieran know it's you he's going on a pseudo-date with will allow Kieran to sweep you out from under him. For now, Martin feels safer with a cloak of mystery to protect him. 

Kieran clears his throat and drags Martin into the present. "Right, sorry mate. I'm free and I'd be happy to help you shop for something to wear- you'll have to give me some details though? What sort of place you're going to, as a bare minimum. I can't have you showing up to a steakhouse in Dunks, you know?"

Martin nods. That much he is comfortable sharing. "It's just a club, so nothing fancy. I just don't normally do casual? So I only have really casual, and I don't think that's appropriate. I'd like to impress the people that are gonna be there."

Kieran nods, thinking for a minute. The grin that lights up Kieran's face has Martin's head racing with thoughts of what the Scotsman might be up to. 

"I know just the place, mate. Bring your credit cards cause it's gonna be expensive!"

**********

"Babe! What did I tell you?! Don't get involved with him- and you just straight up went against everything I said!"

"I know I did Jen!" Your pacing is nearly wearing holes in the circular orange carpet in the center of her room. You've walked the perimeter of your self-imposed prison cell at least a dozen times in the past ten minutes whilst enduring a well-deserved lecture from your friend. "Look, why can't I be friends with him? There's no rule against that in the ethics handbook is there? I'm just fostering positive relationships between myself and the parents of my students!"

"Oh, that reads like a textbook. Babes, you know why you can't do that. You'll catch feelings! Hell, you caught feelings for that writer at the Starbucks down the street for your flat and you never spoke a single word to him. You think you can be friends with Martin 'I'm the best looking single dad ever' Ødegaard and not feel a thing?"

Was it a foolish decision to invite Martin to your birthday gathering? Obviously. It isn't your fault that he's too damn charming and irresistible. You hadn't expected Jen to be over the moon with your idea, but you had crossed your fingers in hopes of her supporting you. 

"Okay, maybe I made a mistake-"

"You think?!"

"-but realistically what's the worst that could happen? Technically Attie isn't my student, so there's nothing that says Mar and I can't be involved."

Jen rakes a hand through her hair, her blue highlighter leaving a streak behind. "I mean technically you'd be fine, but if the other parents found out, who knows what they'd do? The entire school is filled with Mum's constantly lusting over that man- all it takes is one of them getting a touch too jealous and spreading some terrible rumor for things to go ass over tits."

You hate it when Jen is right. The fantasy you cooked up in your head is much more favorable than the reality she's just whacked you upside the head with. You deflate, finally ceasing your feet long enough to sit cross legged on the carpet. 

"Look Jen, I don't even think he's interested in me like that anyway. He's got this trauma, I can see it in his eyes- he just feels… broken hearted. I think he needs a friend to lean on, someone outside of Arsenal. Like a new perspective, you know? Maybe I can be that for him."

At this point, you're grasping at straws to invent a reason why this is a semi-acceptable idea. In truth you're being selfish, wanting to see if you can sus out how Martin feels beneath that steely armor he wears. You can chalk it up to your teachers instincts; seeing people struggling silently isn't something you can sit by and tolerate without trying to help. You don't have it in you to watch Martin continue to come in and paint on a happy face for his daughter when you've noticed flashes of something much more troubled beneath the surface. 

"For the record, I hate this idea." 

"I know you do, Jen. But you going along with it is exactly why I love you." You hold up one finger, pleading with your eyes for her to hear you out. "One outing, that's all I ask. You'll be there the entire time to keep me in check, totally supervised and everything."

Jen shakes her head, taking her time in answering to ensure her discontent is well noted. "I'm only doing this because I love you. One outing- and I'm not letting you drink until he's gone. You get all touchy when you have tequila and I know that's what you'll wind up having."

You break into a cheek-splitting grin that is impossible to hide even if you wanted to, "that's a deal. Have I told you I love you?"

"Not nearly as often as you should, considering how much I risk for you on a daily basis. Now go home and pick out an outfit, let me grade in peace."

"Trust me, I've got just the thing in mind."

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

in some jurisdictions (including california in the usa and in the uk as well more recently) pantsing someone can result in sexual assault (or simple assault) charges, even if it's done between students. swm was def written to be standard issue bullying, but a decent amount of the modern western audience is gonna read it in a particular context that is familiar to them/filter it through anti-bullying lectures they've gotten in school/etc.

okok i def get this. i do have a few thoughts they probably arent very well explained but i will try to put them in words best i can.

tldr at the bottom. !!

i do wanna j put it out there, generally, that james & sirius were complete assholes for this and by extension, so were remus and peter. i dont like snape but this was shitty and inexcusable. if it sounds like i'm justifying them in this, i'm not (promise 💔)

i know today it's more often than not considered sexual assault/public indecency , which is totally justified ofc, but this scene didn't take place today - it took place around like . half a centaury ago. lots changed.

yes, ofc, it was wrong then too and even if it didn't mean j&s would go through legalities and stuff, they shouldn't've done it but back then it wasn't considered to be so bad and it was fairly normalized, they probably saw it and did it (albeit in a much crueler way).

hogwarts doesn't teach mannerisms , they never sat through anti-bullying segments or got taught the hard limits or how to fight back vs aggravate. it was written as bullying , because it was. it wasnt intended s/a but that doesn't mean it wasn't heinous .

s/a comes w intent, james and sirius had no intent further than to show their power over him + get rid of their boredom.

istg they were so horrible.

according to wikipedia, this is the definition of sexual assault

Sexual assault is an act in which one intentionally sexually touches another person without that person's consent, or coerces or physically forces a person to engage in a sexual act against their will.

according to this definition, it's not s/a. it's still blurry, if it happened today i would think it be, because james would choose a specifically sexually violent way of bullying snape, but at the time pantsing didn't have those connotations (esp between boys). obv you can still believe what you want , this is just my two cents.

(i'm also gonna reply to some comments from my original post here since it's easier than responding in the comment section).

@eddvirusz : there's nothing sexual about the scene, and i know s/a is a pretty umbrella term that more specific things fall into but i dont find this specific instance to fall under that. it probably was just a big bullying scene for him bc they didnt have the nuances we have today. ik jkr is sexist but also. 70s were sexist. male s/a wasnt considered shit . but that's not the point of it, because there was no sexual intent which, as i said needs to be present. pantsing itself is not considered s/a according to most sites.

@silentgirlspeaksout : okay i just read through the entirety of swm and this is the order of how they hurt each other physically/attempt to + talking abt what u adressed:

snape attempts to hurt james first. james calls out to him, and snape reaches for his wand. you could say that snape expected an attack and was prepping for self defense or something, but ehhh... i dont believe that. let snape be an imperfect victim, he tried to hurt first

james responded w expelliarmus

he then did impedimenta (slows down/stops target - can also blow them away (which it did) if used more strongly)

james and sirius just taunted him while he lay for a while, throwing insults etc etc . power play.

4. snape tries to throw hexes at them but he can't bc his wand is far away

5. james uses scourgify. i dont exactly know if this is like a bad hex, bc it just cleans, so it must just fill snape's mouth w soap ? ig it has chemicals and stuff, but i doubt pureblood james & sirius knew of that. it did make him gag & choke though, that's when lily enters

james saying 'he exists' seems like a joke ..... i 1000% believe j&s & snape were both horrible to each other and james wasnt gonna stop in the middle of his little show to explain that to lily in detail

this is also where he says 'go out w me and i'll leave him alone' - youre right ,,, this was gross. it was played as shits and giggles i think, 'oh haha he never does miss an opportunity to ask her out, does he!', but it's icky . same , it's no s/a but its harassment soo . big L james. this entire post is kind of a big L for james, and sirius too but he has a lot of Ls.

also, "choke him out with soap before he does anything," - he attempted to do shit

"so I don’t blame him for fighting back with a cutting hex after he’s been hit with several spells" - i get it, vaguely, but not in the same sense (?). if james only hit him with these three hexes and snape went to draw blood, i'd say snape was in the wrong (sorry?), but they had a history - snape drew blood because james and snape had done this before, they've gone violent

6. snape cuts james' face (deep enough that it instantly splatters to his robes)

7. hanging snape upside down the first time

lily tells them to back off,

8. james let him off (*threw him down)

9. sirius hits him with a body-bind spell that temporarily paralyzes him

lily tells them to stop,

10. james mutters counter curse

snape calls lily a mudblood + her exit,

11. snape is hung again and we're left unsure whether or not he was exposed or not

there can be arguments made that, like you said, this is only unconfirmed bc it wouldnt be allowed to be in a children's book otherwise (but the book deals w nazis n like a hundred other things so idk it may be left on purpose)

you say jkr is weird about s/a esp w men and while obv #fuckjkr men and s/a discussions generally were pretty weird in the 70s which is why james mightve never considered that a possibility as to what he did + snape never considered it as s/a. fuck jkr tho

for the mary and mulciber thing , i was just yapping tbh but tysm ! fuck mulciber hail mary

ok i think ive yapped enough gn

tldr : s/a requires there to be something sexual taking place. you can argue assault, you can't argue sexual given time frame and context and just .... anything. but that doesn't mean it wasn't terrible and disgusting. j&s sucked ass for this, i may not like him but ill go pro snape where he's a victim.

not s/a, still unforgivable. snape is an imperfect victim because he's violent too. james and sirius are sadists and they should talk that out with someone that isnt each other.