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sarahscribbles · 1 year ago

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What if you did a summer fic where it started out really fluffy where Loki and reader go to the pool or lake, but then the reader pushes Loki in and it’s just like playful fight and then they have pool or lake sex 💀

I meant this to be super smutty but these fools had their own idea and it's smuffy instead! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This probably has the most anti-climatic ending every and I'm sorry! 😅

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟓𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There are many things you dislike about Tony Stark.

You dislike his arrogance that’s barely mellowed a fraction with age. You dislike how he refuses to back down in an argument, even when it’s painfully clear to everyone else that he’s wrong. You dislike the way he makes his hot chocolate with water and has the nerve to call it “the real thing.”

But one thing you adore about him is his generosity.

It’s because of Tony that you can feel a warm afternoon breeze gently caressing your bare skin. It’s, thankfully, not unbearably hot. Instead, it provides just the perfect amount of relief against the mid morning sun that’s making the Pacific Ocean glitter invitingly before you. The breeze brings with it the fragrant scent of the manicured garden just down below, and you can’t help but close your eyes to breathe it in. There are traces of orange and vanilla perfuming the air, along with something spicy that you’ve failed to discern after two days.

It’s a strange combination of scents, yet somehow it works. It reminds you that you’re a million miles away from New York and everything that comes with it.

You aren’t going to be called to any ridiculously early training sessions with Rogers, or asked to help break up whatever pissing contest Thor and Tony have going on. For two weeks - two glorious weeks - you’re just a normal person celebrating her anniversary with the love of her life.

Only you’re doing so on a private island in Mexico that you flew to on Tony Stark’s private jet.

This was his gift to you and Loki - two uninterrupted weeks together to just be a normal couple. You’re still not sure how you can ever thank him, not that he’ll expect you to.

It’s one of the best things about him, though you’ll never say it to his face. His ego, after all, is big enough.

“This place suits you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.” Your lover’s voice, sweet as honey, drifts across the room. Even after three years together, it still makes tiny butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You turn to see Loki strolling easily through the wide open space of Tony’s beach house. He looks as regal and elegant as ever, even wearing a slouchy pair of grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips. You appreciate that he’s forgone a shirt, choosing instead to flaunt his chiseled chest and the faint red scratch marks still adorning it.

The patchwork of lovebites on his neck, though, isn’t so subtle. Not that you mind - you want everyone and their mother to know that this man is yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed,” you reply, basking in the feel of his strong arms looping around your waist. You breathe in the scent of him, letting it wrap itself around you like a safety blanket.

It’s Loki. It’s home.

He pulls you back tighter against his bare chest, continuing to loop his arms around you in such a way that you know nothing in the world could ever hurt you, and you soon feel the gentle press of his lips in your hair. It’s these small moments - like being wrapped in his arms while the ocean twinkles happily before you - that you wish you could live in. He’s the love of your life, your best friend, and no amount of time spent with him is ever enough.

“Mmm, if your snoring is anything to go by, then I believe you,” he teases with a playful nip to the tip of your ear. “For a moment I feared my brother had followed us here.”

You grin and bump your hips back against his. “Are you trying to get pushed in the pool? Because it sounds like you’re trying to get pushed in the pool.”

His quick laughter rolls over you, rich and deep as velvet, and the sound of it still makes something warm and golden blossom in your stomach. “Your threats are truly adorable, darling,” he replies, resting his chin atop your head.

It’s only for a second because you’re quickly wrigging in his arms until you’re both face to face. Only now, you get to admire up close the love bites you covered him in the night before, and how his pale skin makes them deliciously prominent. He looks so beautiful, so damned sinful, that you’re filled with a new determination that he’ll be wearing your marks for the entire two weeks.

“What? You don’t think I could push you in that pool?” You feign offense, but the twinkle of mischief in his eyes tells you he knows you’re only starting the age old game between you both.

“Darling, do tell me,” he begins smoothly, bending easily to lock his hands behind your knees and toss you over his shoulder like you weigh less than air. “How exactly do you plan on accomplishing that from here?” He gives your ass a light slap as if to emphasise his point.

He lets his hand rest there as he carries you through the house, all the while your half hearted cries of protest melt quickly to bubbles of laughter. “You never play fair! Asshole!” you pretend to huff as he effortlessly sends the bamboo doors swinging open without so much as a touch.

It’s hotter than you anticipated outside - much hotter - and you’re quickly grateful for the coolness of Loki’s skin seeping through the thin material of your robe like a soothing balm. It’s a gratefulness that doesn’t last long - little more than a space of a heartbeat - when Loki decides to roughly pinch your ass, hard enough that your cunt clenches and you know that a bruise will be blooming beautifully there come tomorrow.

“Oh, darling, has it really taken you all this time to notice?” he teases, turning down the shaded path that winds lazily down to the pool.

Unseen by him, you roll your eyes.

With each step Loki takes, the air grows thicker with the sweet scent of vanilla and the heavy scent of the Mexican heat. The trees towering above are alive with the cheerful melodies of a choir of songbirds and, in the distance, you can hear the rush of water from the impressive waterfall that spills neverendingly into the pool. It’s so blissfully peaceful that you could easily fall asleep on Loki’s shoulder, but as the crashing of the waterfall grows closer and you realise he’s heading towards the pool, you quickly stop chattering and stiffen on his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him slowly, trying your best to prop yourself up on his strong back. His skin is so wonderfully cool against yours, though, that you can’t stop the quiet moan of contentment.

A large hand runs along the back of your thigh, sending a trail of goosebumps erupting along your body as how deceptively harmless it feels. “Hmm? Whatever do you mean, darling?” he replies innocently. “I only thought we could admire Stark’s pool together.”

That damn pool.

You try vainly to twist in his grip, to try and calculate just how many seconds you have before he’s tossing you into the water, but, no matter how you turn, all you can see is the sandstone tiles of the floor.

“We’ve admired this pool every night since we got here! It’s probably more familiar with your ass than I am!” you shoot back, just as Loki comes to a stop right by the edge of the pool.

He doesn’t reply, but makes a show of turning left and right, as though he’s deliberating where best to throw you in to keep himself safe from your inevitable retaliation when you resurface. You feel him adjust his arms around you, letting one snake across your bare legs as though he’s preparing to toss you in, and fresh protests spill easily from your lips in a last desperate plea.

“Loki! I mean it! Don’t you dare….!” Your voice has risen several octaves and you’re wriggling in his grip, something you know is completely pointless. If Loki wants to throw you in the pool, then you’re going to be thrown in the pool.

You feel yourself moving through the air and your arms are already flailing, bracing for contact with the clearer than crystal water. You’re even sucking in a breath and closing your eyes in preparation…

But your feet come into quick contact with the solid ground beneath you.

When your eyes snap open, Loki is grinning wickedly at you and those pretty green eyes are dancing with mischief. You swear you fall in love with him a little bit more.

“Did you really think I’d do that to you, darling?” he purrs smoothly, looping strong arms back around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

Thankful as you are for the soothing coolness seeping off him, you answer with a soft thwack that you know barely tickles him. “Yes! Throwing someone in a pool - throwing me in a pool - is your equivalent of setting a child loose in a bouncy castle!” You try to sound stern, but he can no doubt see the grin that’s threatening to break across your face.

He’s a mischievous scamp, he’s what your grandmother would fondly call a rascal, but he can make you smile as easily as breathing. It’s one of the many, many reasons why you love him with every last fibre of your being, with your entire soul. He’s your God of Mischief and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Loki lets his face fall, but love still shines in his eyes like a new star in the night sky. “I am wounded, darling, that you think so little of me. Perhaps I wasn’t generous enough last night?” He slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, and a new look settles across his handsome face.

Lust.

Something hot and molten lurches to life in your stomach and your core burns almost instantly at the memory of him between your thighs. His warm tongue licking and lapping for hours until you felt all but boneless against the mattress and his quiet moans as though bringing you to climax was the sole source of his pleasure.

You breathe in deeply and your fingers curl into the bare skin of Loki’s shoulder. It’s something he doesn’t miss - of course he doesn’t miss - and he squeezes your ass again, this time notably rougher.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” he purrs, so low and deep that you can feel it rumbling through his chest. “If those glorious little noises you made all night were an indication, you did seem quite fond of my mouth, darling.”

That sinfully talented mouth of his. Not only could it weave words so sweet that your heart filled with warmth, but it could make you see entire galaxies explode behind your eyes.

One cool hand rises to cup your cheek and you lean easily into it. Loki’s eyes are sparkling in front of you, and you know you’re looking at a man so hopelessly in love that he would burn the world to cinders if you asked. He looks so soft, so happy, and it’s only you that will ever see him this way.

It’s intoxicating.

His eyes flick to your lips and you part them almost on instinct. His hand at your waist pulls you tighter against him until you can feel his racing heartbeat thumping against yours. You wait until his lips are barely a milimetre from yours, until you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks.

You wait until he leasts expect it to shove him with all your strength into the pool.

It’s the unexpectedness that makes it a success, and he falls into the water all flailing limbs and colourful curses. It’s the most undignified you’ve ever seen him and a shout of laughter rises out of you like a butterfly on the wind, even though you’ve likely signed your own death warrant.

Your heart is racing in your chest when he surfaces and you see the dangerous glint now glittering in his eyes, the one that tells you he’ll show no mercy once he gets his hands on you. Still, you can’t wipe the prideful smile from your face - it’s been months since you’ve managed to trick him.

He glides effortlessly - elegantly, even - through the water, even with the weight of his soaking sweatpants. “That was a very foolish thing to do, dove,” he warns, the deep, playful timbre of his voice making your cunt clench in anticipation of what he’s planning.

You expect him to climb out of the pool and throw you back over his shoulder. Maybe he’ll take you straight to the cabana and lay you across his knee. Or, maybe he’ll edge you senseless for a few hours before making you cum again and again and again, until you’re barely able to string two words together…

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Loki to reach and grab you easily around the knees until you’re folded over his shoulder.

“No, Loki, don’t -!” You manage to screech out between rolls of laughter before he drops you in the water without ceremony.

It washes over you, cool and refreshing against the Mexican heat, and you find you almost want to stay submerged between the twinkling surface. When you do resurface, your robe is sticking tight to your body and Loki is wearing a grin so boyish and infectious that you can’t help but return it.

You launch yourself at him across the water, aiming to knock him backwards as further retaliation, but he barely stumbles and catches you easily in his arms.

“Truly an admirable attempt, but you’ll have to try much harder than that,” he teases smoothly.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he only twists his arms tighter around your waist to press you firmly against his chest. “Let me go and I will,” you reply, still trying in vain to wrench yourself free.

Loki’s answering laughter is light and makes your heart skip a beat. “Darling, I have no intention of letting you go. Not when you still owe me a kiss.”

Playfully, you turn your head to the side in a refusal to meet his request. “Nope. I don’t want to kiss you,” you pretend to huff, but barely a second later a strong hand presses against your cheek to make you face him.

And then his lips are crashing against yours.

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat because as long you live you’ll never grow tired of how it feels to kiss him. His lips are soft as fresh snow, and they’re moving so slowly and lazily against your own that your first instinct is to try and pull him even closer, even though you’re skin on skin.

You would melt into this man if you could.

His hands wander easily to your chest to begin pushing the sopping wet material of your robe off your shoulders, and it’s impossible not to moan into his mouth when his fingers dance over your bare skin in a hungry search for more. Yours follow beneath the water, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants only to be met with the firm muscles of his lower stomach.

You grin into the kiss. “Presumptuous,” you tease against his lips, letting your fingers trace idly along the hardened length of him beneath the water.

“Would you have turned me down, dove?” he replies, nipping gently at your lower lip while he rolls his hips into your hand.

“No,” you breathe out, twisting yourself back around him.

It’s just you and Loki - naked, and making out in Tony Stark’s swimming pool like a pair of lust fueled teenagers. It’s invigorating, it’s addictive. Nothing on earth could make you give this man up.

The easy, languid silence of your kiss is only broken by the melody of birdsong from above and the crash of the waterfall behind you. You’re so focused on Loki - how his hands feel as they explore your body like you’re a work of art and how his hair feels tangled around your fingers - that you barely notice he’s walking you both backward in the pool until you’re hit with the full force of the waterfall from above.

It only lasts for a second, but you still pull back from Loki with a screech of shock and a look of amused exasperation. “Was that…was that really -,” you begin, only to be cut off by his mouth finding yours again.

It’s only then that you realise he’s pushed you into the little alcove hidden behind the waterfall. The Mexican sun is no longer burning down on you and instead, it’s blissfully cool. It’s comfortable.

God, how you love him.

Loki’s hands are still grasping you like he fears you’ll slip away and his lips are worshipping every part of you that he can reach. He’s everywhere all at once, almost as though you’re going to be snatched from him before he has the chance to love you.

“Beautiful thing. Enchanting creature,” he murmurs, kissing his way down your neck and setting your blood on fire.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you manage to force the words out while his teeth nip at your skin.

You feel the wet heat of his tongue soothing the marks he’s just made, and if it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you swear you would crumble to the floor of the pool.

“Oh, darling, I’d like to see you try,” he replies, just as your back hits the smooth wall of the alcove.

You let him press you against it until you aren’t sure where he ends and you begin. His mouth is hot and heavy and demanding against yours, and already he’s wrapped a hand around your knee to coax your leg around his waist. It’s a request you grant him easily, quickly wrapping both around him to pull him tight against you and letting your heels squeeze against the flesh of his ass.

That perfect, godly ass.

Loki moans shamelessly into your mouth as your grip makes his cock brush teasingly against you. It’s one sound that you’ll never tire of hearing - the sound of your lovers pleasure - and it sends molten heat flowing through your blood.

It’s an automatic reaction to then twist your fingers tighter in his soaking curls, anything to pull that divine sound from him once again. “God, you’re sexy when you moan.” It’s a mindless comment, but it slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Because, well, he is.

You feel Loki pull back and when you peer at him through half lidded eyes, his lips are curled in that devilishly handsome smirk that sends your heart skipping in your chest. “And what of the rest of the time? Must you keep wounding me, my darling?” he teases, all while dragging his cock torturously through your cunt.

A moan flutters from you as eager fingers grasp his broad shoulders. Wantonly, you try to spread your legs further, try to invite him in, but it’s impossible when he’s already got you spread like a sin for him.

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” you breathe out, head hitting the stone behind you as the tip of his cock brushes wondrously over your clit.

His every touch feels electric and you know he’s ruined you for anyone else. Not that there’ll ever be anyone else, of course; Loki is your missing puzzle piece and your entire heart. He’s yours for keeps.

“Oh?” he answers and latches on to the sensitive skin of your neck once more, but still not easing into you the way you’re desperate for him to. “And what else, hmm?”

You laugh softly in his ear and you swear you feel him smile against your neck. You’ll play along. If he wants praise then you’ll give it to him until your lungs give out. “You’re brave. So brave. My beautiful, brave boy,” you murmur while he continues to nip along your throat.

He pauses to press a gentle, lingering kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, only to resume his path of lovebites across your collarbone.

“You’re funny. God, you’re funny, most times without even trying.” You keep going, hearing him hum in approval against your skin.

He’s been mostly silent, but you can feel how much he loves you in every press of his lips and nip of his teeth. It’s enough to have tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

“You make me feel like I’m enough every single day,” you say in little more than a whisper. You feel his lips go still against your collarbone, and then he’s pulling back to look at you with those glittering green eyes. “You’re a good person, Loki, and you’re my best friend.”

His eyes soften at the same time the water around you ripples. He clasps your face in both hands to place a blistering kiss to your waiting lips. It’s hot and heavy and passionate, and you feel it all the way down to your toes. You’re clasping his shoulders like he’s your life raft and drinking him in like oxygen.

He’s Loki. He’s all you’ll ever need.

Slowly, he pulls back from your lips to let his nose bump against yours and you feel him roll his hips, pressing the entire hardened length of his cock against your aching cunt. “Say my name,” he says huskily. It’s both an order and a plea.

“Loki…ugh!” you groan shamelessly when the tip of his cock brushes tormentingly over your clit. Your nails are digging so hard into his shoulders that you can clearly see the tiny half moons marking his skin, but he still doesn’t give you what you crave.

“Again,” he demands, unquestionable lust now dripping from his voice.

“Loki…fuck…please!” You arch your back against the cool stone as he presses against your entrance

“Again.”

“Loki!” The third cry of his name melts to a whine when he slides himself inside you in one smooth thrust, until you’re filled to the brim with your god.

Eager muscles clench desperately around him because you’re close to drunk on the solid feel of him between your legs and impatient for the first glorious thrust of his hips. It doesn’t come, though, and instead, he rests his forehead against yours while he’s buried inside you. You can feel the impatient twitch of his cock, but still, he doesn’t move.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says softly, voicing the same thought you’ve had about him time and time again. “My beautiful little mortal. How lucky am I to call you mine.”

His voice is sweeter than honey and sends warmth flooding through your veins, filling every inch of you with so much love for him that you fear it will spill from your pores. This beautiful, perfect man - who never stops doubting how worthy he is of your love - is everything you ever dreamed of and more.

You want to tell him, to tell him that he’s the reason you breathe and the reason your world spins, but it’s impossible to convey the depth of your feelings. “I love you.” You settle on saying. It’s soft and quiet and you know he knows, but his eyes light up each and every time you tell him, and right now they’re glittering like new stars.

Will you ever tire of how devastatingly beautiful he is?

There’s another quiet ripple of calm, turquoise water as he leans in to kiss you again, and this time it’s wondrously slow and deep. It feels like magic, like he’s pouring his entire soul into this one kiss. You loop your arms tighter around his shoulders and his hips finally begin to roll against yours as equally slow and deep as his kiss.

That’s when you realise. He isn’t going to fuck you beneath this waterfall - he’s going to make love to you.

His lips are locked with yours while he moves, each slow, deliberate thrust of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you perfectly. Your quiet whimper mixes with his deep moan, and you press the heels of your feet against his ass again, pushing him deeper still with each thrust because you can never get him close enough.

“You’re…you’re amazing, Loki,” you say stupidly when you break for air. “Completely amaz…ugh!”

Your praise melts to another moan when he buries his face in your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses along your flushed skin at the same you feel his hand groping around beside you.

“Take my hand,” he breathes out roughly. It’s such an innocent request that makes your heart feel like it will burst.

What did you do so right to deserve this man?

Wordlessly, you intertwine your fingers with his, feeling him squeeze your hand as he begins to build you toward the edge. He knows your body so intimately that it doesn’t take long for the first heady ripples of pleasure to flicker in your core.

Loki rests his forehead against your temple, grunting and whimpering so beautifully in your ear that it sends an inferno burning between your thighs. Each thrust of his cock has you keening and babbling out pleas for more - and more he’s only too happy to give you.

He’s filling you so beautifully and making you dance right on the edge of pleasure that you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll last without toppling over.

Loki, though, silences your worries barely a moment later with a pornographic grunt. “I’m close…darling…’m so close,” he pleads shakily as you cradle his head against you.

“Loki…I’m - “

“Cum for me,” Loki interrupts huskily with another squeeze of your hand. “Please, darling.”

Barely a second later, your climax rips through every inch of you and Loki’s name is falling from your lips like a prayer. He freefalls at the exact moment you do, pressing you firmly against the stone while he chases every last drop of his pleasure. It’s dizzying, almost, to hear his curses, his moans, his cries of your name as his orgasm shatters him.

Even more dizzying are the sounds of his deep, heavy pants in your ear as he comes down from his high, and his chest heaves against yours while you both catch your breath. You, an insignificant little mortal, have made this god unravel like string. It makes pride bloom through you and clutch him that little bit tighter to your chest.

“I love you,” Loki murmurs quietly, his lips ghosting across your cheek in the softest of kisses. “But, darling, I simply must have you again,” he teases and easily tosses you back over his shoulder.

You can’t help but laugh as he wades through the water, not even close to tired. “Maybe in a bed this time? I think that would be nice.”

His shoulder shakes beneath you. “There are 32 rooms in Stark’s humble home. I don’t plan on leaving this island until I’ve had you in each and every one of them.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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thankssteveditko · 11 months ago

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Sony's PlayStation 5 Presents Insomniac's Marvel's Spider-Man 2 (the third game in the series)

I beat the main story and have enjoyed my time with the game overall! I want to talk about spoilers and things that I liked and disliked in the story, so here's a post with some scattered thoughts.

(Hello! I haven't forgotten that this blog exists! Like I said, no update schedule, I will read more of the Lee/Ditko comics whenever I make time for it. I've actually been sitting on a mostly-complete version of this post since I beat the game in October, thinking that I'd finish the rest of the side quests so I could throw in thoughts on those. But... eh, I'll do that whenever the inevitable DLC rolls around. I just wanna get these thoughts posted.)

Spider-Cop No More

First off: they downplayed the cop shit!!! This was the first thing that really struck me about the game, and I'm stunned that they actually listened to criticism on this. I thought we'd just be stuck with it forever.

It'll never be completely gone, of course. Spider-Man is always going to leave criminals webbed up for the police to take to prison, hoping that they'll do their time and come out the other side as Productive Members of Society. That's just a thing I begrudgingly accept as part of the genre that will probably never go away. But Spider-Man is no longer repairing police surveillance networks. You're no longer beating the shit out of random drug dealers. Gangs of escaped convicts still wearing their orange jumpsuits are no longer terrorizing the streets of New York.

Instead, Peter and Miles are played more as firefighters. Sometimes very literally! They work with firefighters, they rescue people from collapsing buildings, they rush injured people to the hospital. In general there's a huge increase in the number of random onlookers present during the big action setpieces, and the Spider-Men frequently have to save them from harm. One of the major side quest lines is even literally about a cult of arsonists, and you'll routinely find burning fuel tanker trucks you have to extinguish with your webs. It's great! Love this for them.

I also generally liked the side missions in this. There's a lot of good stuff with the Spider-Men being neighborhood heroes willing to help out anyone in need, no matter the problem. Some of them can get corny, sure, but that street level stuff has always been the real heart of Spider-Man to me.

Gameplay

The gameplay's as fun as ever. That probably goes without saying. I will not be spending a thousand words explaining that swinging is fun.

In particular, I really liked the changes to the Focus mechanic. I never loved the way Miles' game made you choose between healing and doing your special attacks, but here your four specials have their own cooldowns, and the Focus meter is spent on either healing or finishers. It still offers that risk/reward element, but those vicious cycles where you can't do any real damage because you keep needing to heal aren't nearly as bad as they were before.

Personally I didn't turn off the swing assist or turn on fall damage, because the streamlined swinging never bothered me in these games, but I'm glad the options are there for people who want them.

Kraven

I liked Kraven in this! I liked the way they leaned into his Hunters being this weird death cult, and him wanting to go down in a blaze of glory against a worthy foe, to the point that he's actually disappointed anytime a foe can't kill him. It riffs on things people liked in Kraven's Last Hunt without being the exact same story. I like that Kraven's gang is renting out this manor or whatever and just being a complete terror to the wait staff. I liked the way Kraven hunting Peter's rogues' gallery clashed with Peter's belief in giving his villains second chances. I liked that they were willing to have Kraven kill off a couple of the minor villains from the first game to sell how dangerous he is. (I know some people hated this, but like, come on. We already fought the Sinister Six. They don't need to do that again.) I like the way Kraven pushed Peter to the absolute brink, turning him more and more aggressive with the Black Suit. Good stuff all around, even if the Hunter enemy types did wear out their welcome a little bit by the end.

The Black Suit arc

I think I liked the way Insomniac handled Peter's Black Suit arc overall, but there's a tradeoff here.

They REALLY lean into the body horror tentacle stuff, with Black Suit Peter basically just being a skinny Venom by the end. The sequence where you play as Mary Jane while the symbiote puppets an unconscious Peter's body around and goes on a rampage against the Hunters was REALLY great at selling how scary Peter is becoming, and it made me completely change my tune on the inclusion of the MJ stealth missions in the sequel. Having to beat an out-of-control Peter as Miles immediately after Peter beats Kraven was also really good. This is all cool!

BUT, the thing is... with the symbiote powers being so freaky from the start, it really pushes my suspension of disbelief when Peter and co. take so long to become wary of it. I guess when you've been bitten by a radioactive spider and given superpowers, and when you live in the same universe as the Avengers and the X-Men, your perception of what's "normal" is going to be pretty warped. But they buy the whole "organic exosuit created to treat Harry's illness" story WAY too easily lmao. How do the self-aware slime tentacles help with his illness, exactly?

And I'm not sure how I feel about giving Peter Anti-Venom powers in the last act. It feels like it's primarily a concession so that they can give players that branch of their skill tree back, but honestly, the designer in me thinks it would be really cool (if risky) to just permanently lock players out of Peter's most powerful skills past a certain point. Yeah, it'd definitely piss people off, but it drives home the idea that Peter's given up greater power because it's the right thing to do. It'd put you in his shoes! Instead he just gets the symbiote powers back, but it's fine because the Venom voice in his head is gone and also the slime tendrils that explode out of his body are white now, which means they're good.

I have to say it. I'm sorry. The glistening white goo... they turned Peter into the Amazing Cum-Man. I changed back to the Classic Suit after rolling the credits and forgot I still had the Anti-Venom skills equipped, so I just saw regular old Spider-Man exploding his white goo everywhere. Terrible.

Assuming Peter is just stepping into more of a supporting role to Miles and not fully retiring after the events of this game, I really hope the Anti-Venom stuff is gone. I get that he needed it to counter Venom, but that's not what I want for Peter Parker.

Miles

Miles is good in this, and I really like his arc where he struggles with whether or not he should avenge his dad by killing Martin Li. I like how all that plays out. Unfortunately, they don't quite stick the landing when it comes to making him and Peter feel like equals in terms of narrative focus. His arc is definitely the B-plot to Peter's for the middle chunk of the story, which I guess was kind of inevitable since they decided to do the Black Suit arc. But Miles does at least get a lot of moments to shine, and by the end he's very much taking the lead as the main Spider-Man.

Becoming the main Spider-Man also gets Miles a new, wholly original suit that ended up being super controversial, and honestly... I kinda like it? Or at least I like what it's going for, even if the actual design could still use some work. It's something totally unique for Miles, and I like spandex/streetwear combo suits like what the Spider-Verse movies have popularized. But showing his hair is really pushing the limits of his secret identity. He hangs around Brooklyn Visions WAY too much for his classmates to not recognize his voice and haircut. And I understand why people would be wary about it becoming his "canon" look moving forward. But I think it's got potential.

On the subject of Miles, though, I will say that while I liked Miles' side missions, it feels like he's often saddled with the game's broad, kinda touristy, kinda token attempts at Showcasing The Diversity Of New York, in a way that Peter isn't.

I like that Miles has a deaf graffiti artist girlfriend that he and Ganke sign with, and I like that there's a series of side missions that explore some local jazz history, and I like that there's a mission where Miles helps a gay classmate ask his crush to prom. I like all these things! I like Spider-Man being involved with his community, and that said community includes such a wide variety of people! I like that this game slows down to savor these types of moments instead of just being all action all the time! But when I step back, I notice some patterns.

Hailey doesn't have a big role in the main plot, especially when compared to MJ, but Miles gets a side mission where you briefly play as her with muffled audio to teach you what being deaf is like. There are no major queer characters in the story - unless you count Felicia showing up for exactly one mission to mention she has an unseen, unnamed girlfriend in Paris now - but you get a side mission where Miles helps out a gay couple at his school, who then never come up again. To put it very uncharitably, they can feel like Very Special Episode missions. It's like the devs going: we're going to give Miles a Gay Mission, and an Impaired Hearing Mission, and a Cultural History Mission, so that we can say we touched on these things, but we're gonna make them all optional and keep them far away from the full-blown Superhero Stuff like fighting costumed villains. Those flavors cannot mix. Meanwhile, Peter gets to have a whole elaborate subplot about teaming up with Wraith to track down fucking Cletus Kasady. There's an imbalance here, and I think it's part of the reason why Peter still feels like the "main" Spider-Man for so much of the story.

I think this was all written with admirable intentions, but as others have pointed out, you can kinda tell that this game was mainly written by some white guys based in California. These attempts at depicting various marginalized groups can feel kind of detached in the same way that Insomniac's map of New York doesn't quite line up with the real thing. But I dunno. I'm not really the one to dig deep into some of this stuff as a white woman from Florida. I would be curious to read others' takes on this.

Maybe I'm just being overly cynical about the writers' well-meaning but corny and kinda out of touch liberal politics because of the podcasts.

The podcasters

I wish Jameson was in this more! They psyched us out by giving him a full character model for, like, two scenes. I like him being MJ's boss, but I wish we saw inside the Daily Bugle offices to get more Jameson.

At least his podcasts are better than the ones in the Miles game, though. Him completely trusting in Roxxon was just too much for me. Here he condemns Oscorp for the symbiote shit, and he also gets some moments where he takes the ongoing crises seriously and isn't just ranting about the Spider-Men. He isn't just a conspiracy theorist crackpot here. Shit like his "fuck Spider-Man, we have a justice system for a reason" speech makes him feel more like a human being with a point of view, rather than just a caricature. Definitely an improvement.

Unfortunately, I still find The Danikast grating. I'm sorry, Ashly Burch. It's not your fault. The quirky heckin' wholesome millennial podcaster lady who catches you up on current events and then reminds you to drink 64 ounces of water a day in the same breath is just too much for me. At least she doesn't have any lines as bad as her throwing in a "damn" and then going (direct quote here) "That's right - no censoring! That's how REAL I'm being right now!" like in Miles' game. Instead they give her this, like, almost psychic insight into the main plot to try and make her the angel on Peter's shoulder. The second Peter gets the symbiote she's like "Wow, y'all. Have you seen Spider-Man's new black suit? Something's different about him. He's been giving me such bad vibes lately. #NotMySpiderMan" Also she's supposed to be this, like, underdog independent podcaster who started her show on a whim and has become the voice of the people... but she's got billboards plastered all over the fucking city. Which makes her feel like an industry plant lmao

Again, there's a detachment with the writing. This is, like, some middle aged white liberal game dev guys' idea of what a modern leftist teenager would think is a Cool Activism Podcast. Unfortunately, because Insomniac thinks Danika's a hero, Mary Jane's triumphant ending is that she quits her job at the Bugle to become a podcaster, too, delivering a thinly veiled monologue about the pandemic to kick off her new podcast literally titled "The New Normal." She's going to save the world with podcasting, because that's the highest form of activism, I guess.

Venom

So! Venom! Venom was... okay.

Surprising no one, Harry Osborn is Venom. Harry's okay both as himself and as Venom, but I'm not sure his arc is a smooth one. He starts out as Peter's comically perfect best friend who returns to reminisce about the good ol' days and hand him his dream job on a silver platter, and then later he becomes a little ball of rage over the fact that Peter gets his symbiote and can't/won't give it back. I'm not sure that pivot is handled the most convincingly. You kind of have to write it off as the symbiote messing with their heads, I guess.

When he actually becomes Venom, I'm... mixed on the execution. On the one hand, the cool factor is absolutely there. He's a very cool big monster, and Tony Todd is great in the role. But he also wants to take over the world and make everyone a symbiote, and aside from any lingering resentment towards Peter, that's really all there is to him. It makes for a good video game to have a bunch of symbiote enemies and creepy symbiote nests and symbiote tentacles climbing up the sides of buildings in the last act... but is that really what I want out of Venom? Probably not. But he sure does look cool as a big monster guy to fight, and I was happy he was briefly playable.

Suits

Part of me feels like there's something lacking about the suit selection here, but almost every suit I liked in the previous games is back, and also I'm the type of person to give Peter the Classic Suit the second I unlock it and use that for most of the game. So does it really matter for me?

Peter's selection feels dominated by the various live action movie suits, but I get that those are going to be some of the suits people want to wear the most. I wish he had the Peter B. Parker skin to go with Miles' Spider-Verse alts, though. No idea why it's missing. Really I think I mainly just want more of the Spider-Verse designs.

Also I've complained about how most of the original suits designed for these games make Peter and Miles look like they were bitten by radioactive Alienware products, but I can just, you know. Wear other suits.

Misc thoughts

Everyone's already made this joke, but it's extremely funny that the Avengers didn't help with the symbiote invasion. Took one look at that and decided it wasn't their problem

On the subject of other superheroes, I do wish these games would acknowledge the Fantastic Four more. Peter's close relationship with that team feels woefully underutilized in his various adaptations

I like the trope of a boss fight that's a heightened version of a personal conflict between two people who are close, where throughout the fight the boss is airing out their grievances while the hero tries to get through to them emotionally. That especially works for Spider-Man! But WOW has Insomniac played that card a lot of times by the end of Spider-Man 2 lol

They're teasing the addition of Silk, I guess? I'm gonna be honest, I don't know shit about Silk, but I guess it was inevitable that they'd give us some form of Spider-Woman at some point. Gotta work all those costumes in somehow, and they're not brave enough to let one of the boys cosplay as Spider-Gwen.

They WERE, however, brave enough to let Harry say he loves Peter. I liked that little moment. They presumably meant it platonically, but clearly ol' Yaoi Lowenthal knows what's up

Post-leak addendum

So, obviously, by the time I got around to finishing this post the big Insomniac leak happened. I wish the game industry wasn't so secretive that it took a massive, dangerous data breach just to get our hands on some very basic info that would be public knowledge if Insomniac was a film studio, but here we are.

We now know that Insomniac spent somewhere around $315 million making Spider-Man 2 - triple what the first Spider-Man game cost to make. A quote about this from a leaked presentation has been stuck in my head ever since I first saw it on Twitter. “Is 3x the investment in [Spider-Man 2] evident to anyone who plays the game?”

To be honest, I'm not sure it is.

I liked Spider-Man 2, but I'd probably say that overall I liked it about as much as the first game. It's certainly a somewhat bigger game, with marginally more realistic looking graphics thanks to the power of the PS5. But I think I could do without ray tracing and more realistic hair rendering and whatnot if it meant that these games didn't take like five years and hundreds of millions of dollars to make. I could not give less of a shit if the swinging animations were recycled between games. I'd be fine with them being shorter, too.

I like these games, but as we look at that leaked project lineup and realize that Insomniac is turning into The Marvel Game Studio, I think about how many smaller, more original games that those resources could go towards if they scaled back the Marvel stuff just a bit. How many Ape Escapes or Patapons or Gravity Rushes could get made for the budget of just one of these massive AAA tentpole games of Sony's, which are apparently barely even breaking even? How many could be made for the budget of the "smaller, cheaper" Miles Morales game, which somehow cost $156 million to make despite using an updated version of the same Manhattan map from the first game? Hell, how many smaller games could have been made with the $39 million that went into remastering the first Spider-Man game for PS5 a mere two years after launch? How many people will lose their jobs if any one of Insomniac's upcoming Marvel games underperforms - which, in this case, could mean selling "only" 5 million copies? And would hardcore PlayStation fans even accept those smaller games at this point, now that they've been trained to only appreciate mega-budget Prestige Games with cutting edge graphics and treat everything else with disdain? How much worse will this get as the graphical arms race continues?

I think I just miss Japan Studio. Fuck Sony. Uhh but anyway the Spider-Man game this post was supposed to be about was good, some writing complaints aside. 8/10

#tsd post #other media

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banquetwriter · 3 months ago

Note

I NEED vampire Jonnie Guilbert idc if it’s smut or fluffy I just need a vampire Jonnie however you wanna write it and whenever you have the chance too take your time and thanks in advance if you do this!!!!

୨୧ bleeders part 1 ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ NOT PROOF READ, general vampire stuff so talk of blood and death,

summary: ʚ after roaming your family’s old property you discover that a shadowy figure and you might have a long history ʚ

Words: idk :p

An: let’s pretend this isn’t almost 6 months old. also ik that johnnie is way more emo but he does enjoy a few classic goth things so in my head he is like a goth in the 80’s before he died lol

The rain was only picking up as the night went on. You were packing your bag up. Putting on extra layers of clothes is anything you could possibly need for a midnight stroll.

It was bad.

You knew it was bad, you just couldn't help yourself. Ever since you had started to explore your family's grounds you had a new purpose it seems. Studying during the light hours but as soon as the night came you were bundling up to go exploring.

You hadn't always lived in this house. But when you were 18 your parents tragically passed away and left you this house in your name. You weren't sure why at all. You hadn't even known it was here.

It was sorta like the house wanted to be forgotten. You weren't the type to believe in all that “spooky” stuff but you could not deny the creepy vibes of the property.

The previous caretaker was nice enough and said while the house and surrounding land were beautiful they definitely had some repairing needed. He told you that in order for the house to be livable it would need work and lots of it. He also quickly told you not to go too far at night, there were lots of creatures at night and he didn't want you to get hurt at all.

And with that, he left. You were a photographer which meant you got to work on your own time. You documented all the work you had done on the house and had skyrocketed your success online and financially. Three years later, a few days after your 21st birthday, you were finally officially done with renovating the house.

You kept the historic feel and haunted “vampire vibe”. But your curious and creative heart was bored by the house, so you took to the outside. Going out at night and choosing to shoot your pictures there.

You planned on slowly transforming the grounds too but that was going to take some time. You placed your camera in your bag and set out, locking your house. You flipped your hood up and started down the path you usually take.

Last time you had discovered what looked like a tombstone about a mile from your house. You took a deep breath in as the rain made your bones cold. You made it out to the tombstone once again. You looked down at it. You couldn't make out the name but it looked old. Like really really old. You stepped back taking a few pictures of it.

Suddenly you heard a tree branch snap from somewhere beside you. You whipped your head around frantically. The images of all the different types of creatures out here flashed through your mind. Luckily it was just a deer. How odd. You had never seen a deer out here before. But maybe whatever creature lives out here kills them before you can see them.

You pull your camera out and line up the shot. The animal slowly nibbled on some grass under a tree. You snap the photo and look down at your camera looking at the photo, and suddenly another tree branch snaps. You start spinning around further rain hitting your face.

And between the rain, fog, and trees, you could make out a figure. You freeze in place, “Is someone on out there?” you call out, your voice shaking. The shadow doesn't move at all.

You point your camera trying to see if you can catch any sort of proof. You snap a picture in the direction of the figure. Once the picture is taken you look away from the camera looking back to see that the figure is no longer there. You huff out checking your camera to see if you caught the picture.

It wasn't there… Suddenly another twig snapped. This was your cue to bolt. You pushed your camera into the bag and ran for it. Attempting not to trip and fall on every piece of shrubbery.

You finally manage to stumble into your backyard. You fumble for your keys and it drops on the ground in front of your back door. You have looking behind you not seeing anything but the pictures of horrifying creatures flash through your mind. You scramble to pick up

Your keys and unlock the door.

You slam the door shut breathing heavily. “Fuck.” you mutter clambering all your stuff onto the counter. The rest of the night you are restless. Unable to sleep, picturing the figure staining your memory.

The next morning you gingerly come downstairs staring at your camera bag. You roll your eyes choosing to make yourself some tea. However, sipping your tea made you hyperfocus on the bag. You internally groaned before checking the picture from last night.

Nothing. No figure at all. Odd. Creepy and odd. But apparently not creepy enough to scare you away. So here you were back next to the tombstone like last night. You moved further to what looked like a graveyard. Around 12 or so graves littered a small patch of very overgrown shrubs.

They were split down the middle, the right side set of graves being more dilapidated. Checking the left side there were several graves with your last name. Which would make sense but it still freaks you out. You shook your head turning the batch of graves on the right.

All the graves had different last names and dramatically different years of death. One caught your interest. It seemed to be the youngest out of the group. “Here lies Johnnie Guilbert, in sin, Born: August 28, 1960, Died: October 31, 1986.”

He was only 26. You wondered what “in sin” meant but probably nothing good. You didn't like the thought of the graves being abandoned like this, you plucked a few flowers from the surrounding areas and lined them on the graves. Adding a few more to Johnnie’s. You sighed walking back to your house.

Once it was late at night again you decided to travel back to the graves seeing if you could catch the figure again. This time you came more prepared with a flashlight.

You crouched down in the misty leaves, waiting to see it again. And sure enough, you heard a small crunching of leaves. It wasn't as loud this time but you heard it. Your eyes follow the sound and see the figure once again.

“Show yourself, please,” you shouted. The figure seems to sway for a second before standing almost still. “I-I won't hurt you. Who are you?” you called out. The figure stayed where it was. Fine then. You pointed the flashlight at it.

You did not see what you thought you would. A pale-looking guy with a gothic-looking vibe stood before you. His hair was teased, and he had makeup dripping down his face. He was in a white button-up and black pants.

“Woah,” I said breathlessly. He just sorta stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Um, I don't know,” he answered honestly.

There was something off about him. You weren't sure why but you found yourself asking one simple question. “What are you?” you asked. He sighed not knowing how to answer. “Um.” he quietly spoke. Before hesitantly lifting his finger to his mouth before pulling his lips open.

Revealing pearly white fangs. You gasp, stepping back. The bag you are holding slips and within a flash the guy is standing next to you holding your bag up for you to grab. “Oh my god,” you murmur.

“I'm a v-” he stops himself, looking over and avoiding eye contact. “Vampire. I'm a vampire,” he whispers. And you weren't sure why but you believed him. He had a trusting aura. You slowly grabbed your bag from him.

“You probably don't believe me,” he whispered looking at you. “I do,” you whispered. He looked back at you. “Here follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He wrapped his, freezing, hand around your wrists pulling you to a grave.

It was Johnnie. “Fuck.” you mutter. “I saw you putting flowers on my grave. It's what made me actually talk to you,” he said timidly. His chest rose and fell rapidly seemingly waiting for my reaction.

I had a lot of feelings. Shock. Being the first but lots of curiosity. You wanted to ask how he died, and did he drink human blood.

Suddenly the very real danger of being next to him kicked in. “Wait-” you said, stepping away from him. His eyes changed. A sad film bloomed over his eyes. “Do you-” you stopped yourself. You didn't want to be insensitive to his “kind” that drinking human blood was probably a gross exaggeration.

Even if he did drink human blood he was hot enough to get away with it.

He looked at you waiting for you to finish your sentence. You shook your head instead of finishing your probably offensive words. “Never mind,” you said, waving away the thought.

The rain continued to pour down onto the forest overhead. The water drops slipping down and hitting your head. The cold finally got to it and you let out an involuntary shiver.

“Here, let's go back to my house. It's not too far up this trail.” I said pointing towards my house. “Are you sure you want to let me in?” he asks surprised with my invite. I turn to him, and for what seems to be the thousandth time this night I feel a sense of trust wash over my body.

“Yes,” I say confidently. He nods his head waiting for me to lead the way. As we walk I hear more of a story I almost wish I didn't know. “Why is there a grave in my backyard? And why are you buried there?” I ask stepping over a log.

He takes a deep sigh. “Your family. This area… your bloodline has been here for longer than most of those graves. There isn't an easy way to put this. But your family were vampire hunters.” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks.

His eyes caught yours. This was a lot of information to take in. “Continue.” you simply said starting to walk again. “There was a group of vampires that roamed this area and finally your family and a few others decided it was time to do something about it. All those graves back there are for vampires. Stakes in the heart.” he explained.

You took a deep breath wrapping around this idea for a while. “Then why are you like walking around?” you asked timidly. Johnnie takes a deep sigh. “Well it's complicated but by the time I was turned into a vampire only your family still hunted them and I wasn't turned because I wanted to… I did some bad stuff and as a result, I had a lot of bad stuff happen,” he said vaguely.

You nodded. “Did my family take pity on you?” you asked as you saw your house on the horizon. “Basically. Your grandfather wanted me dead but your dad didn't so that's why there is a grave but I'm not dead. Again I guess.” he said.

“Is that partially my graveyard too? I saw names that have my last name.” I explained stepping onto the porch. “Yes it is,” he said slowly climbing up them.

I unlock the door and wait for him to enter, but he doesn't. The door stands open but he just sits there. “Why are you standing out there?” you asked. “A-a vampire can't just go into a house we need to be invited in by the owner,” he says before staring at the top of the door.

“Please, enter my home,” you said. He stepped in and took in the house. He had seen the outside so many times but never seen the inside. You rushed around the house stripping the wet jacket off and setting your camera down.

You looked over to see Johnnie staring into a mirror, you came back behind him to see only yourself in the mirror. He couldn't see his reflection. As you walked up behind him you saw his eyes brimmed with tears. It must be hard not to be able to look at yourself.

“L-looks like your house still has mirrors with silver in them,” he murmured. “Is that why you can't see yourself?” you ask, turning to face him. “Sorta. Any mirror with silver and I can't see myself. But there are a lot of mirrors made without that now. Right after I turned I could see my reflection in stuff but as I “age” in defiance of nature but soul continues to leave, so it's harder to see myself in lakes and stuff” he said, recalling what seemed to be a distant memory.

“Well I can see you and you look great. Very on brand for a vampire,” you whispered standing closer to him. He couldn't help but let out a weak smile at your words. “Thanks. I dressed like this even before I turned,” he said.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You found out that he had drunk off of people but he really didn't do it much only when he was really weak. While it sorta scared you also intrigued you. You fell fast asleep on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Johnnie, unable to sleep, quietly watched the tv you had put on and looked over at your sleeping form.

This was nice. He can't remember the last time he was in a nice house like this, with someone so nice. But all good things have to come to an end, and the sun will be up in a few hours.

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake and johnnie #johnnie x you #johnnie x reader #johnnie #johnnie guilbert angst #vampire!johnnie guilbert #vampire!au

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mrsevans90 · 11 months ago

Text

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 10

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: smut (oral/m receiving), talks of period intercourse, detailed PTSD flashback, graphic death of character discussed, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Author's Note: This is a heavy chapter--- Big time PTSD flashback so consider yourself warned! Also, I purposely chose to not use characters in the flashback from the movie Sand Castle. I just didn’t want to kill off anyone’s fave character, so we are going to pretend this flashback was another mission from another deployment right before Sy retired not related to the movie. It was just easier for my conscious to write it that way.

Part 9

All night long I have nightmares about the war. I wake and try to reset myself like the therapist taught me with deep breathing, water, change of environment, etc.; but nothing is working. I maybe only get about 2 hours of sleep total and I’m exhausted. I still go on my run to try and exhaust myself even more so that maybe tonight I will pass out into a dreamless sleep. I try to fake enthusiasm for whatever Nana is rambling on about in her phone call to me on the way to work but I’m sure she can tell that I’m starting to spiral. Alex can tell that today is one of those days so he asks me if I’m good and when I grunt at him he keeps his distance. God, I’m an ass but I’m obviously not good and I just can’t talk to him about it. Nobody really understands except the boys that I was with when it happened and several of them are dead now. I’m supposed to be their leader and I feel like I should have my shit together. My nightmares continue to worsen throughout the week and I feel like I overcompensate by working harder or exerting myself in more difficult physical pursuits in hopes of tiring my body and my brain out. I forced myself to run four additional miles on Friday even though my leg quickly protested. I focused on pushing through the pain and ended up having to ice my leg after work.

Friday evening finally rolls around, and Emma shows up at the house as planned with a little overnight bag in tow and homemade banana pudding. I’m cooking us some chicken and veggies out back on the grill when she arrives and I feel like I calm a bit just being in her presence. She still looks absolutely adorable as she shows up wearing comfortable clothes-a tank top and soft shorts. I love that she’s feeling relaxed enough with me to just be her most authentic self. After we eat, I fill my belly up with her decadent dessert and I swear I see stars. She’s quite the chef; as if she needed any more of a direct line to my belly or my heart. Assuming she’s still on her period, I ask her if she’s feeling alright and she nods but doesn’t offer more. I suggest we get in bed and watch a movie and she gleefully agreed. We get all cozied up in bed and she chooses a rom-com to put on. Not my first choice, but I’ll do anything to make her smile like that. It’s nice having someone other than myself warm my bed. We fall asleep easily tangled in each other and I’m relieved that I have no nightmares. Maybe Emma is the cure to my nightmares? Or did I really succeed in tiring myself out enough that I slept too hard to dream. Either way, I’m not complaining.

Saturday morning. I wake up at my usual time and smile to myself at finally getting a decent night of sleep. I lay in bed watching my girl dream before I decide to get up and go for a run. If it’s the exercise that helped me sleep last night, I’m not going to miss the opportunity to do it again. I leave a little note on Emma’s nightstand and decide to only run two miles today so I don’t fuck up my leg more than I probably already have. When I get back home, Emma is still a mess of hair and sheets and I can tell that she never missed me. Her hair is halfway across her face, one of her breasts is almost spilling out of her twisted tank top, and the covers are tangled all in her legs which brings a smile to my face. For someone so effortlessly beautiful, she’s kind of a mess when she sleeps and I can’t help but find that to be one of the most endearing things ever. I attempt to take a quick shower and am surprised when ice cold hands wrap around my stomach as my eyes are closed under the spray of the water and I jump like a cat.

“Damn woman! Your hands are ice cubes.” I say as she laughs uncontrollably.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She says as she hugs me from behind.

“I woke up and heard the shower running so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I joined you.”

“Always, join me Sugar. My favorite showers are the ones with you.” I tell her as I turn around to see her. She’s got her beautiful hair tied up in a bun on top of her head and I shift her so that the water runs down her body to warm her up. I spy her adjust the temperature higher and I can’t help myself.

“What is it with women taking showers equivalent to the heat of lava?” She smiles.

“We are colder than you are. Gotta warm up somehow.” She presses a sweet kiss to my lips before turning around and washing her body. I can’t help but stand there like a creep watching her but I’ll never turn down an opportunity to see her wet and soapy.

“I hope you don’t mind that I hijacked your shower.” She smiled sweetly.

“Darlin’, I was done anyway. Now I’m just here for the show.” I arch my eyebrow at her as she spies my obvious erection.

“Let me help you.” She seductively suggests.

“I can help us both.” I offer but she shakes her head.

“Still on my period.” She replies without making eye contact.

“So?”

“We can’t have sex when I’m on my period!” She looks completely shocked.

“Says who? You know, sex actually helps relieves cramps.”

“But..I might get blood on your…”

“Dick? What’s your point?”

“Isn’t that gross?”

“Sugar, I told ya, I’m a man. A little blood isn’t going to scare me off. Now if you’re not interested because you don’t feel well or you just don’t want too, I have no problem with that. But, if you’re not interested because you think I’m going to be grossed out or something, I promise I won’t be. You can have me anytime you want, Sweetness. There’s no pressure either way. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I won’t mention it again.”

“Maybe give me some time to come around to the idea of it. I’ve never really considered it as an option.”

“Sure thing, babygirl.”

“You are something else, Bear. You mean it when you said I can have you anytime I want?”

“Mmhmm.” I say as her fingertips trail down my abdomen and she wraps her hand around my throbbing cock.

“Can I taste you?”

“Always, but don’t feel like you have too. I’ll be alright if not.”

“I want too.” She says before pushing me towards the shower bench and taking me in her mouth. In no time at all, I’m coming down her throat after receiving one of the best blowjobs of my life. She has my legs trembling from the stimulation and I can’t help but caress her cheek and kiss her gently when I come back to reality.

“my EmKay.” I whisper as I kiss her tenderly.

“Your EmKay?” She asks.

“Mmhmm.”

“Funny, I don’t remember being asked to be yours.” She haughtily replies.

“Ya’ ain’t going to make this easy on me, are ya?” Shit, what am I doing. I should have thought this through. She shouldn't want to be with me. The unreal blowjob has me not thinking clearly.

“Now why would I do that?” She retorts with a smile. I palm her cheek so that she’s looking right at me.

“Will you be my woman?” I ask seriously. Fuck it. Why not?

“Only if you’re my man.”

“Well, I’ve been told that I’m a bear, but I’ll be your man too.” I joke before pressing my lips against Emma’s in a feverish kiss.

As the water gets cold, we finally climb out and get dressed for the day. I decide to take Emma out for breakfast at the diner in town before we go in search of furniture for her guest bedroom. Her parents are arriving next weekend and it was adorable when she shyly asked me if I’d be willing to meet them. I assured her that I’d be happy too and to just let me know when.

We spend a few hours at the furniture store where Emma purchases a matching bedroom set before going to a mattress store and trying out all of the mattresses to determine which would be a good purchase for her guest bedroom. They are able to deliver it same day which is nice so we pick a time for it to arrive that afternoon. We then head to a department store so she can pick out curtains, bed linens, and other odds and ends that I’m told a room requires like lamps and decorations. Being a single man for the majority of my adulthood that was mostly away in the military, I didn’t realize how much work women put into buying all of this shit. Why does she need the guest bath towels to match the hand towel in the bathroom? Or all of the little knick-knack items she bought to go on the dresser? I’m even more confused when she was discussing bed trains? No bed skirts. I’ve slept on friends couches without even a blanket but she’s really rolling out the red carpet for her parents. It’s a bit concerning if they are expecting all of this from their daughter who has lived here for under two months. Maybe they don’t expect it and she’s just trying to show them that she’s a capable adult who plans on settling here. I watch as she spends a small fortune trying to get everything in order for their visit. It’s obvious that she values their opinions. What if they don’t like me? I’m certainly different from the preppy type of guy that they’re used to seeing her with. I’m kind of rough around the edges and although I think I’m pretty smart, I certainly don’t hold advanced degrees. I’m broken from my thoughts when Emma asks my opinion about curtains. It’s sweet that she wants my opinion but I’m a fish out of water when it comes to decorating.

We load up all of the stuff and head back to Emma’s house where I get started hanging curtains as we wait on the furniture and mattress delivery. Emma orders us pizza and we munch on pizza and beer for a while. I’m regretting all of my additional workouts after I finally get the bed put together and the mattress put on it. Emma tried to help but she’s so little I didn’t want her to hurt herself so I ended up just man-handling it myself. She had washed the new bedding and put everything together before we took a look at it and she dove across the top of the bed. Emma patted the space beside her and I laid down next to her on top of the comforter.

“I’m fucking exhausted and I didn’t even lift the heavy stuff.” She exhaled.

“I didn’t realize it was so much work to put together a bedroom. You sure know what you’re doing though.”

“Thank you. I just pick what I like. I couldn’t have done it all without you though, so thank you, baby. I can’t wait to have them visit and see that I’ve got my shit together here. That I’m not some dumb kid who needs rescuing. I’m able to handle myself.” Ahh, so I was right about that. It’s about proving herself to her parents.

“I think they’ll be impressed, Sugar. I know I am.” I smile at her before yawning.

She kisses my lips before scratching my beard gently.

“Can we go back to yours, shower and then go to sleep? I’m dead on my feet.” She asks as she stands up and fluffs the new pillows. Why are there like 5 pillows that will just get thrown on the floor? Seems wasteful.

“You still want to come back to mine with me?”

She nods. “I want to be with you and the pups. Since they are at yours, it wouldn’t make sense to get them and come back here. I always sleep really good with you…Unless you’re too tired for a sleep over.” She says sheepishly and I wrap my arms around her.

“Nothing could be better than having my girl in my bed with me.” I tell her because I’m beginning to believe it’s the truth. “Let’s go.”

We turn out all of the lights and lock up before heading back to mine. Emma’s car is still parked out front from where she left it and it makes me happy that she wants to be here with me. There’s a summer storm approaching and the wind has picked up which has Emma’s hair twirling in the breeze. I pull the patio cushions inside when I let the dogs out to do their business. After a quick shower because we are both too tired to do anything but clean ourselves, we do our nighttime routines before climbing into bed. Emma snuggles next to me with her head on my chest and I’m confident that it’s going to be a good night as we drift off to sleep.

It’s hot, but more than just hot. It’s sweltering. I can feel the sweat rolling down my chest and my back. It’s the type of unbearable heat that has your clothes sticking to your skin the instant you walk out of the mess hall. Then you add your gear, and the added weight from your gear plus your sweat soaked clothes is a certain feeling that I’ll never forget. I smell the smoke of an explosion further in the distance. We have our orders and it’s my job to lead our special forces team in to execute our orders exactly like planned. The problem with that is that most things never go as planned. It would be easy for this to be a cookie cutter mission where we get in and out and go back to base and fuck around for the rest of the afternoon. No, this will require me thinking on my feet at every turn. It’s what I’m trained for, hell, I’m the best which is why I’m the captain. I’ve got seven men with me whose lives rely on me assessing our situation and giving correct orders. They are sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, and friends who have people waiting on them at home. Each order I give is weighted by the knowledge that I’m responsible for them. We’re crouched in different positions behind the old dilapidated building that the informant said our guy would be in. The sun is glaring across our faces but we’re in the best position we could be in for this mission. We’ve been after this specific hostile for months and never been this close to him before. We can hear men inside the building, yelling in Arabic and moving around so we must remain completely silent. If we can hear them, they could hear us. We are ghosts that can’t be seen or heard but must work as a team for this to go smoothly. If one person spots us, it will turn into a close-range gun fight that I can’t imagine we will all win. I inhale deeply and even though there is dust on every inch of myself and the ground, I try to focus my thoughts.

As I am about to give orders to direct my guys to move on to the next step of our plan, I hear the tell-tale whistle of a bullet zipping through the air. I swivel to the left with my gun and look for the insurgent. I can’t see anyone but the bullet buries itself in the left shoulder of Waites across the way from me. We were fucking set up. I swing my gun back around and that’s when it happens, I hear the bullet and feel it explode into my lower left thigh at the same time blood spews from my friend, Goodwin’s head who had crouched beside me when I stood to look for the shooter. My leg gives out and I instantly drop down into the dirt to where I’m level with Goodwin’s face and it’s obvious, he was killed instantly. His eyes are still opened and he has a massive wound to the head. Anthony. Fuck. His girlfriend is expecting a baby girl in a few months. My leg is burning from the inside out but my adrenaline spike helps me ignore the pain and I grab my gun and instantly start shooting towards the rooftop where I believe the sniper might be. I hear Brown screaming before I realize he’s got Waites against the building and is yelling into the radio for help. I watch as insurgents start coming out of the building we were casing and I start taking them out. Lowell goes down. Setas is either hurt or attempting to provide aid to Lowell. I can’t tell but I never stop shooting. Ramirez is also trying to find the source of the ambush with his own gun. Bullets are flying, many from my own gun as I empty the clip into the only building the sniper could have been on, Browns pleas for backup, along with Waites heavy gurgling breaths fill my ears. I feel a hand on my arm and flinch.

“Austin! Captain…Captain Syverson. Look at me.” Two hands on either side of my face help me focus in. “St..Stand down. You are safe, the threat has been eliminated. Your superiors have given orders to return to base for further instruction. Do you understand?”

I blink against the water that’s dripping down my face. Emma?

“My men. The injured men in my unit. Where?”

“They are at base getting medical. Captain, I need you to confirm that you understand me.”

I blink and then nod slowly. “Roger that.” I mutter distractedly. I look around. I’m in the backyard of my house, leaning against the brick exterior in my underwear. I have my pistol tucked in the back of the waistband of my boxers and I’m wearing the boots I leave by the back door. In my hands I’m clutching my old hunting rifle that I keep on the top shelf of my closet. Shit. I’ve done it again. I’ve had a PTSD nightmare, but this is so much worse because Emma is here to witness it. I look over at her. She’s crouching on her knees in front of me wearing nothing but my water-soaked t-shirt and panties while she’s barefoot in the mud. Water is dripping from the ends of her hair from the rain that’s pouring down on us. She looks terrified and concerned.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” My throat aches either from unshed tears or maybe I was yelling earlier.

“Austin, baby, are you back?”

I nod. “Emma, I’m so sorry.” I mutter as tears mix with the rain that drips down my face. This is what I was afraid would happen if I got close to her. If I let her in. I would relax and then my past would quite literally present itself.

“Baby, don’t be. You’re okay, we’re okay.” She tells me as she reaches towards my face that’s now aimed at the ground.

“Aika?”

“I left her inside. I know you said she could help but I wasn’t able to tell if your rifle was loaded and I didn’t want her startling you and there being an accident.”

Jesus. She was afraid I’d shoot my own dog, because she’s right, I was nowhere near my right mind. Here we are over six months since my last flashback yet this was the most involved PTSD episode I’ve ever had. Thank fuck I keep my ammunition locked and separate from my guns for situations like this.

She stands and reaches to help me up but I can’t let her help me stand. My leg feels as though it has been shot just yesterday but that could be a result of me crouching on my knees in freezing rain outside in the middle of the night, not just the psychological pain from my flashback.

“Come on baby.” She takes the rifle from my hand and I don’t protest. I follow her silently back to the house. The air conditioning on our soaked skin has both of our bodies covered in goose bumps. Aika bounds to me whining and crying and I sit down in a chair from the table and run my hands through her thick fur. I bury my face into her back and focus on breathing. My palm clutches my leg that’s radiating phantom pain from where I got shot. Emma appears next to me with a towel but hesitates.

“Can I help you clean up a bit?” She gestures with the towel.

I nod and she leans down and starts wiping the mud off of my legs.

“Sugar, I…”

“Baby, nothing needs to be said. I’m okay, and you are going to be. Would you take a warm shower with me?” I look at her and want to just burst into tears. How is she so kind and understanding after what I just did? After what I could have done?

“Please?” She urges and I nod. I follow her to the master bathroom and watch as she turns the water on. Aika stays close and sits down behind me in the bathroom floor. I have no idea what time it is in the night or early morning or how long she’s been awake dealing with me. Emma pulls out two fresh towels for us and then whips the sodden shirt off of her torso before removing her panties. She looks at me and then slowly and gently eases my soaked boxer briefs down my legs before taking my hand and pulling for me to get in the shower. Once I step in, steam surrounds me and I take a deep breath. I’m exhausted, flashbacks always take the energy out of me and it’s not like I’ve been sleeping great this past week. Emma begins lathering a wash cloth with soap and gently starts cleaning me. I stand there perfectly still and let her do what she wants as I attempt to think of anything that I could say to make this situation better. I’m aching with embarrassment. Once she washes me, she quickly washes herself before turning around and caressing her hand on my cheek. She leans down and picks up my wrists that were laying limp by my sides and wraps them around her waist before putting her own around my neck. My eyes are aimed down focusing on the suds swirling around the shower drain.

“Baby, look at me.” She says with the sincerest and worried look on her face and that’s when my resolve breaks. I bury my face into her neck as the hot tears stream from my eyes. I can’t seem to stop them and I ache when I hear myself let out a sob that sounds so painful and broken even to my own ears. Emma tightens her arms around me and guides me back to the bench that we once used for a much different form of intimacy. Emma curls herself around me and holds me tightly while I fully break down. Once my breath starts to come easier, I carefully pull my head from her shoulder and try to clean my face up.

“Let’s dry off and lay down.” She says as she turns off the water and starts toweling me off. I gently take the towel from her, not wanting to be babied but not wanting to seem ungrateful. Once we dry off, Emma hands me some boxers and she tosses on a dry shirt and panties on before we sit on the bed. It’s silent and I feel like I have to say something.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must be thinkin’ but I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I woke you, scared you and I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I completely understand if this is the last time I see you.” I say quietly and she looks shocked.

“Austin, I’m not going anywhere. This is what relationships are about. Holding each other through the good and bad. I’m not scared and you’re not fucked up. You’re haunted and although I don’t know the details of it, I want to help you through it. Even if you don’t want my help, I’m not leaving you.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should be better. I survived, Damnit! I shouldn’t have any problems. Goodwin, Lowell, Waites, they are the ones who died. I just got shot in my stupid fucking leg after leading them to their deaths!” I sob.

“You are allowed to have problems. Their deaths are hard on you but you are not responsible for it. I don’t know what happened, but I know it’s not your fault.”

“The informant set us up, we were ambushed. Goodwin, God. Goodwin got shot right in front of me. I watched the life drain from his eyes. He has a little girl that he’s never met. If I had questioned the mission from my superiors or done more digging on the informant, they would all be alive right now. I had to look at their family members at their funerals and I’ll never forget the grief from their loved ones. Goodwin’s pregnant girlfriend, Lowell’s widow, Waites’ mom. I still see them sobbing over their caskets in my mind. I didn’t deserve to live when they didn’t get too.” I finally say out loud. I take deep breaths attempting to calm my body from going into another spiral.

“Bear.” Emma reaches for me.

“It’s been years and I still get like this. Hell, it might be getting worse. I don’t think this is something I’ll just get over. I’m too fucked up, Emma. You deserve someone who doesn’t have these types of demons.” My eyes blink heavily.

“You are not fucked up. I deserve you because you treat me better than I’ve ever been treated before.” My eyes droop and I know it’s a result of the flashback. When I have them, my body goes through the trauma all over again so when the adrenaline finally stops coursing through my body, I basically crash.

“Love, you look exhausted. Can you try to sleep for me?” She asks and gently pushes for me to lay down. My head is resting between her breasts as she lays back on her back. We’ve never laid like this before but it’s comforting.

“I’m right here, I’m not leaving. Aika’s here and so is Mills.” She tells me while caressing my head but my eyes are already closed, too heavy to fight staying open longer. I wrap my arm around her waist and within moments, I’m deeply asleep soothed by the steady rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat as she caresses my scalp.

Part 11

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

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princelylove · 1 year ago

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The Father.

Synopsis: A character study on Bruno Bucciarati.

Warning: pet names used in italian are masculine, general yandere behavior, nsfw implication at the end but no real nsfw, referenced violence

Bruno is not really naturally the fatherly type, but he chooses the responsibility anyway. He hides that he smokes, doesn’t eat until everyone else has, and very rarely slacks off. Although he’s serious about work and his family, he tends to be playful and lighthearted. It’s rare to see Bruno in a bad mood. He’s a family man. Loves the holidays, always hosts. Wants to be called papa or dad- Bruno’s secretly hoping that one day someone will slip and call him ‘Daddy,’ how delusional. He took the responsibility from his own father for his health and safety when he was little and didn’t really blink, but who takes care of Bruno? No one! Because providers don’t need to be babied, obviously, and that’s exactly what he is. The provider. The man of the house.

His favorite albums from Miles Davis are Agharta and Bitches Brew, which are jazz-fusion, avant-garde jazz, funk rock, and jazz-rock. I tend to think of jazz as slow, easy listening, but it’s wild, it’s experimental, it’s everything Bruno doesn’t allow himself to be in favor of keeping his perfect family fantasy safe and sound. The Bucciarati household is always loud- whether that be from Narancia and Pannacotta “playing,” in Bruno’s words, or from the little record player that lives in the living room. He offered to buy Pannacotta some vinyl records, but he never took him up on it. It’s a bit of a sore subject. The bookcase has a cardboard box in it filled to the brim with albums from Miles Davis, Sade, Frank Sinatra, Tupac, and his darling’s alleged music taste- he guessed based off of what was in your room. How did he get in your room? Don’t be silly, he never said he was in your room.

Bruno takes up two personas in order to maintain his fantasies, his passione one and his fatherly one, and flips back and forth depending on what’s going to work best. It’s rare to see Bruno just… being himself. He’s obsessed with how things are supposed to be- he wants what he never had. A big, happy family.

His passione one is where he gets his sadism out of his system, where he tells himself he’s just doing whatever it takes to keep his family safe and sound and not thoroughly enjoying beating the shit out of whoever Polpo tells him to. He grabs your wrists too tightly when moving you out of his way, gets a little too loud with you, sometimes. He doesn’t hit his darling normally- no, that’s not what a good husband would do- but sometimes you just make comments that burrow themselves under his skin, and he can’t help but react.

He doesn’t shy away when he does it, either. He always doubles down, giving you that firm tone he gives Narancia when he slacks off on important jobs, or how he would talk to someone while working a typical repo job. It’s like you’re talking to someone else- he doesn’t even bother to fake his normal smile.

“Watch how you talk to me before you lose the ability to speak at all.”

It’s short and sweet. Nothing more needs to be said.

He holds his head in his hands, later, thinking about how badly he just set himself back. At least he has the courtesy to open a window to let the smoke pour out.

He doesn’t like smelling like cigarettes.

He isn’t really meant to be a father. He doesn’t really know how, but he’s trying to. He’s not meant to be a husband, either, with the way he treats his spouse, lately. But he’ll smile, and take that gentle tone, because he must. The world may be cruel, but he must not be. He has to work to not have that type of reaction when you speak to him so harshly. Maybe if he were a better man.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He’s trained himself so that his smile would always reach his eyes- he even trained his relaxed face to be a more palatable version of his actual relaxed face. You won’t open up to him if he scowls at you, or glares at you instead of looks. He wants everyone to think he’s gentle- he wants to be the father that everyone always comes back to visit once they’re all grown up. A better version of his father, who Bruno would argue was perfect, for what he had.

His darling is meant to be his spouse- his other half. He longs for someone he can shower with pet names, someone who will melt into his hands, someone who appreciates just how much effort he puts into everything. It’s rare that Bruno can fully relax- there’s always something to be done, whether that be at home, or by Polpo’s order.

But… He doesn’t truly trust his darling. He loves to micromanage, and it makes him anxious to think about you holding something sharp or standing on something unstable. Please just let him reach whatever it is you need for him- his stand can bring things down if it’s also out of his reach.

Why do you want to drive? He knows how to drive. Why did you bring your wallet? Of course he’s going to pay for you- he asked you out, didn’t he? Oh, let's not cut up your own snack, you could hurt yourself… Bruno is begging to be needed. He finds his identity in being the man of the house- the provider, the father, the husband, but you just aren’t giving it to him, and it's driving him up the wall.

It’s suffocating. It’s patronizing. You can shave by yourself, you’re not a child. You know how to take something out of the oven- you’re not going to use your bare hand to touch the metal that was just sitting at 177 degrees celsius.

A little note sits on your nightstand. It’s meant to be a bonding exercise, as he leaves a new one every morning, but you don’t speak italian. Bruno’s handwriting is neat and bubbly- why he put so much effort into making it legible but not in a language you understand is beyond you.

‘Amore mio -

Sono innamorato di te. Non aprire la porta a nessuno.

Avete mangiato qualcosa?

Tuo marito.’

You’re left to sit and stare at it, if you’d like, or get on with the chores you know you have to do before Bruno gets back.

It’s little moments of peace- of genuine privacy- like these that keep you going. You’ve been getting up earlier for this exact purpose. Bruno would really rather you sleep the entire morning away and wake up to him coming home in the afternoon, arms open and smiling, calling his name, maybe saying something like “Come back to bed, my love.” … but it’s healthier for you to be up during the day, getting some sun from the open windows, and engage your mind with some tasks that aren’t instant-pleasure based.

But sleeping in a little bit isn’t a crime. You’re welcome to sleep until Narancia gets up- he needs you to walk him through the steps of making breakfast, again. Don’t worry. You won’t be touching the stove, or using a knife. Just guide him through it verbally, and comfort him if it fails.

It eats Bruno alive when you don’t immediately greet him at the door.

He sighs a bit at the snack you brought him. The bowl makes a clack sound as you set it down on his desk. You took such care in peeling and slicing some apples for him, he should be grateful.

“Bello. What’s this for? I’d rather you not use the peeler unsupervised.”

“Wasn’t. Narancia was watching.”

Bruno bites his lip a bit, but is quick to fix his face. He smiles at you oh-so-lovingly. “I didn’t know he was warming up to you, amore. Did something happen?” His hand reaches for the bowl, his wrist sits on the old wood of his desk, and his fingers tap the brim ever so lightly. He’s debating eating it to ‘please’ you or not, debating if he can hide his distaste for the fruit from his almost-spouse. So close.

“No.” Your answer is simple. It’s behaving without submitting. He wants the full story. Wants to know why his son is hovering over his darling- if this wasn’t done by a peeler, and actually done by the small pocket knife he trusted his son to have around you-

“Perhaps it’s the exposure to you, then.” He really does it. He pops one of the smaller slices into his mouth, and chews. His shoe makes a distinct tap as he bounces his knee under his desk. As much as he adores you, his fondness for apples is like his fondness for the boss.

You hum at his act of ‘love,’ and wait for him to finish chewing, and actually swallow. When he notices your stare, he opens his mouth to display that he actually did.

“See? There’s no need to fuss, I’m not having issues with eating. I eat very well, actually.”

Of course his mind jumps to you being concerned for him. When you don’t respond, he sighs a little bit, and stands.

“Amore, is there something you want to talk about? I’m open to your worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

The clack of his shoes don’t comfort you.

His outstretched hand doesn’t ease your worries.

His voice doesn’t soothe you.

“I love you, tesoro mio.” His lips graze your cheek, “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like I’m going to eat you.”

His hand rests on your waist, pulling you in closer.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

#yandere bruno bucciarati #yandere bruno bucciarati x reader #god this took forever #my italian is rusty give me a break if the grammar is a bit off

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milimeters-morales · 1 year ago

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So my thing with Hobie’s nicknames: I have Hobie call Lyla “Tinkerbell” or “Tink” bc she’s small, has a yellow glow, and has an attitude, so i’m probably just gonna have him base his names off of childrens’ story characters, like for example Jess would be “Kanga” and her unborn baby is “Roo”, Margo I haven’t decided yet since we don’t know much about her movie-self and Hobie wouldn’t have any character to reference bc of her technology, but from what I’ve seen she could have her nickname as something related to The Little Mermaid because while everyone is here in person, she’s in her own dimension in a life she doesn’t really enjoy, but i’m also hesitant to have him think “Cinderella” is a good name because cmon. Her parents argue a lot, and she does use being a vigilante as a form of escape, but that’s implying that they hate her and harm her, and that’s not something Hobie would say without 100% certainty. Maybe he’d just give her a non-character nickname, like Pixie (bc Pixelate, Pixie Dust, Pick-&-Choose, whatever). Okay this is getting long it’s continued under the cut.

I personally don’t like the Gwendy and Peter Pan nicknames he gave Gwen and Miles but i guess it’s cute, but i would’ve preferred something a bit more personal to Miles rather than just in relation to Gwen bc they feel less like their own people then, even tho Peter and Wendy were an adorable duo. I can see Gwen = Wendy bc she ran away from home to a “neverland” that was supposed to be a paradise basically but realizes she can’t stay, or if you take that “Gwen was going to be shot in the stomach” thing some people who worked on the movie said they got rid of and apply it to her “ghost, gwen stacy always falls, forever immortal and taking back control” thing and her relationship with death and the idea of Neverland having dead children so they are “immortal” and “never grow up” it sticks.

But (even if it’s teasing) calling Miles “Peter Pan” doesn’t even make sense because he didn’t lead her here, she led him to the Society (unknowingly). Like people want to shove “sunflower” and “flower” into everything involving Miles so badly and it feels EXTREMELY forced. I feel like Hobie would call him something else, and this is where the name “Bambi” could come in because while Miles hasn’t lost his mother or father, he’s still learning his place in the world while saving countless people now and in the future, and will eventually become a great stag, even if life wasn’t always kind to him. But again, I don’t think Hobie would do that 100% because he doesn’t really know Miles like that. Or, he could go for more recent nicknames and non-character names that are safer, like “Brave Little Toaster/Toaster” for obvious reasons, or “Spark/Bolt/Livewire” that don’t feel as child-like as “Bambi” or as forced as “Peter Pan”

I also have to take into account what things Hobie just might not have seen, because in the setting i’m talking about he’s not living in a houseboat, so he probably doesn’t have much time to see or learn about these fairytales/characters, and it’s based on chance on when he’d know about them. Because I also have to remember that his city is still highly policed and his people are forced to fit into the mold and comply to societal standards and whatnot, so even things as simple and enjoyable as short stories for kids would be heavily controlled. Libraries are fucked in his universe but they’re one of the only “safe” havens. I think it really adds to his attitude about his own life, how he’s much older than these friends despite being like 16-19, and how he feels the most responsible for them no matter how much he denies that and tries to get rid of that feeling. Calling them these nicknames gives him both the feeling of “haha, these little kids are the future and i’m an old man” and “i’m a little kid again!!”

that’s it :3

#to be clear this is all in my fic. so like it’s not really anything i’m applying to canon atsv hobie at all. lmao #me just ranting #that was the lost coherent post of the day people the pain is back and with a vengeance…..#miles morales #spiderman #spider man #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider punk #ghost spider #spidergwen #gwen stacy #m&m posts #not tagging the others sorry margo lyla jess and jess’s baby

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year ago

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lil' baby crush

summary: gwen pays miles a visit and gets him to go to one(1) college party. wc: ~1400 a/n: this isn't canon-compliant in that gwen is gay and miles is bisexual here. he's like the 'damn nobody want u fr' 'im sayin like!' image. enjoy!

Miles sighed and sunk down into his chair, the blue light from his laptop illuminating his face. He was currently the only one occupying the shared dorm room, working on an essay that wasn’t due until next month while his roommate was out doing…whatever he was doing.

Partying, probably.

Despite what he’d often told his parents to explain his sudden disappearances, Miles didn’t really do parties.

He’d had a taste of them in the form of school dances at Brooklyn Middle: you get there, maybe talk to your friends a little, then stand around trying to figure out how, when, and for how long to dance while the same ten songs rattle your eardrums.

If he wanted to blast his ears with music for several hours straight, he figured that’s what his trusty bass-boosted headphones at home were for. No complex social ballet required. Even better, he could choose the playlist.

But it sure made for some boring-ass Friday nights.

Miles got up and rolled his shoulders, fully prepared to go lie in bed for another hour, when he caught a familiar golden light flash across his window. He grinned to himself, wondering which member of what Hobie had affectionately called ‘the Spider-band’ had swung by for a visit.

Tap, tap, tap.

Gwen’s white mask appeared in the frame. She waved as Miles padded over to the window and pushed it open wide enough for her to climb through. Just as her muddy converses were about to touch the floor, he raised an eyebrow.

“Gwanda, you know better.”

“Right, forgot about that,” Gwen laughed, kicking them off. “Old habits, y’know?”

Miles shook his head and grinned.

“So, how’s the thing with MJ going?”

Gwen removed her mask, revealing shoulder-length blonde hair. It fell in choppy layers, and she had replaced the soft pink dye at the tips with a fiery orange.

"Well, it's…going."

Miles crossed his arms.

"Gwen…You did talk to her, right?"

"Y-yeah! I spoke to her," Gwen gnawed at her bottom lip before mumbling, "Once. On the subway."

"Absolutely tragic," he exclaimed dramatically as he fell back on his bed. "My best friend has absolutely no game!"

"Oh, you're one to talk! You think I forgot about 'the shoulder touch'?"

Miles sat straight up.

"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."

"Just saying," Gwen hopped off of the window sill and sat at Miles' desk. "Enough about me, though. How's campus life? You get wasted at any parties yet?"

Miles shrugged.

"I got invited to one nearby that's supposed to be tonight, but I stayed back. No club meetings this week, either, so…"

Her eyes widened.

"So you're just sitting here?"

"I'm being productive," he corrected, pointing to his laptop. "See? I'm half-way done with that essay, I could probably turn it in a week early."

"Miles."

"What? I'm chilling, Gwen, seriously! Just me and my, uh…" Miles glanced at his bookshelf. "...crossword puzzles."

Gwen stood resolutely, already having made a decision in her head.

"Pick an outfit, we're going to that party."

"Whoah, whoah, wait, hold on–"

Miles hopped to his feet as she threw open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"Since when do you wear sweater vests?"

She held up several hangers with sweater vests of various colors.

"I wanted to look distinguished…?"

"Nerd," she snorted. "Oh, this bomber jacket looks sick! Feel like going out with it?"

Miles laughed, "Something tells me I don't have much of a choice."

"Correct," Gwen smirked, tossing the jacket at him. "I’m gonna have to borrow one of these hoodies."

After a twenty-minute walk (Miles didn’t want to risk swinging), the two stopped in front of a run-down apartment building. Loud music and spinning lights from mini disco balls spilled out of the windows.

"This is it," Miles breathed. "If my first party sucks or gets raided by the cops, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Never know until you try," Gwen replied. "Shall we?"

The place was already packed. There was a lively beer pong game happening in the kitchen, while a pack of students were strung along the walls in the living room puffing clouds of marijuana smoke into the air. The group in the middle of the room, of course, was dancing. Or something that closely resembled dancing.

Miles glanced across the room, scanning the sea of swaying bodies when he noticed one lounging on the couch.

The figure was staring down into a red solo cup, a full head of blonde, ear-length dreads obscuring half of his face until he looked up.

In a devastating miscalculation, Miles let himself stare a little longer until he realized that their eyes had met. He froze, as if the stranger’s dark eyes kept him in place.

Gwen followed his line of vision. She’d seen that look on Miles’ face before: once when they first met at Visions, and again when Hobie had invited them to a concert and she’d caught Miles ogling the bassist.

She grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'll be by the speakers. Go get 'em, tiger."

Despite his sneakers feeling like they were made of concrete, he took a step forward, then another, keeping his eyes on his target all the while.

The other boy tilted his head in amusement.

"Um," Miles began, "I-Is this spot taken?"

"Well, I'm sitting in it, so…"

Real smooth, Miles.

"No! I mean, like, next to you–"

The boy’s eyes became crescent moons as he burst into laughter.

"Relax, I know what you meant. Spot's free," he gestured towards the empty area on the couch to his right.

"O-oh, cool. Thanks," Miles laughed awkwardly. The couch sank beneath him when he sat down.

How the fuck do you flirt with dudes?

He could barely fumble his way through flirting with women, riding almost entirely on them finding his utter lack of game endearing. Now here he was, glancing back and forth between the stranger and a wall.

"Yo, you want a drink?" The boy asked, snapping Miles out of his thoughts. "You look like you need one."

He was probably right.

"Sure, I don't mind."

He rose to his feet, revealing more of his outfit: an oversized black tee layered over a white shirt, with a red kilt draped over a pair of dark wash jeans. A real Jaden Smith type, it seemed. But maybe Miles was into that.

It wasn't long before he returned with a second solo cup, which he pushed into Miles' hand.

"So," he asked with a grunt as he sat, "Why you not dancin'?"

Miles snorted, and shook his head.

"I don't dance. Was never too good at it."

"Ah, but is the point of dancing to be good at it?"

"Don't get philosophical with me now, I'm a STEM major," Miles grinned, then took a sip of whatever was in his cup.

He tried his best to hide his disdain for the brown liquid, but the grimace on his face made it evident. "I didn't catch your name, by the way."

"Call me TJ."

"That's a cute name–I mean, a nice name," Miles winced at himself. "A very…normal name."

TJ laughed, revealing a gap-toothed smile that made Miles' chest swell. "Thanks. Yours?"

"Miles. Miles Morales."

"I think your name's cuter. Bonus points for alliteration."

Miles felt heat rushing up to his ears and cheeks. He hadn't had enough to drink for him to blame it on that.

"So, why aren't you dancing?" He asked, changing the subject.

TJ shrugged.

"I prefer to people-watch."

"Oh, so when you do it, it's 'people-watching'," Miles made air quotes with his fingers. "I see how you move."

"And yet here you are, talking to me anyway. No idea why you chose me to sit next to, by the way. It's hella empty seats."

Miles bit his lip.

"I…didn't come over here just to find a seat, actually."

TJ raised a bleached eyebrow.

"So what did you come here for? Clearly not to get high, your pupils look normal."

Miles took a deep breath, his heartbeat louder in his ears than the music.

"You, um…You're…"

Holy shit, just say something!

"Do you like boys? I'm not asking for a friend."

Oh my god. Not like that.

TJ blinked, then a smirk began to spread across his face as he came to a realization.

"Why, yes. Yes I do. You wanna get outta here? I know a place with actual food."

Miles let out a breathy laugh.

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

"I think I have some idea. You're sweating."

Before he could respond, Miles felt his phone vibrate in his jacket. It was Gwen.

-gwanda: finally!!

-gwanda: if u don’t get his number im gonna be so mad at u. be back by midnight!!

He rolled his eyes.

-miles: ok mom

Miles shut off his phone and rose to his feet, as TJ had already done. He took a deep breath.

“Shall we?”

#can i even tag this as a gen fic #miles morales fic #miles morales headcanons #gwen stacy headcanons #atsvplatonic #miles morales x reader #atsv fic #miles morales x oc

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nattaphum · 1 year ago

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MILE PHAKPHUM BEHIND THE SCENES OF HIS SUCCESS WITH BOF 500 IN AN EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH ELLE MEN.

KANOKPORN C.

NOVEMBER 3, 2023

UPDATE US ON YOUR LIFE, YOUR WORK AND YOUR INTERESTS.

Mile: Now i’m an actor of Be On Cloud. As for what i’m interested in now, I would like to have more time for music. In the past, fans may have seen me playing some music and making some songs. I stopped doing it 5-6 years ago, so I would like to revive that because music is what i love the most. Music is charming. Music is a friend. When we’re happy, it can stay with us, when we are suffering, it can stay with us. But most importantly, music allows us to capture various moments. This is the coolness of music. Let’s suppose we listen to something. And we may think of someone, think of some moments of life, it's nostalgia. Some people or some moments can be recorded through music so each person has different memories.

TELL US THE ATMOSPHERE AND IMPRESSION OF GOING TO THE BOF AWARD CEREMONY.

Mile: the atmosphere is that everything was fast. And we didn’t stay very long, just 3 hours. At first, I was excited before going but I didn’t create a picture in my head. I like to do this, i like to challenge myself to face whatever is presented in front of me. I didn’t create a picture in my head and that’s a technique to manage the excitement. We went there to enjoy ourselves. That night was a very fun night. Some people may plan to do 1 2 3 4 but that day I didn't think of anything. When I arrived to the event, i just let myself go. It was fun. And then I met people I didn't expect to meet and i liked them very much.

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE THE FIRST TWO THAI ACTORS ON THE BOF 500 CLASS OF 2023 LIST?

Mile: I was glad to know I made it into BoF. When we knew the details and found out that it was for both of us, we really felt that our work or the way I and Apo present ourselves was understood. The important thing is that our team 'Be On Cloud' has grown to the world. It feels that we’re growing step by step. To be honest, I appreciate being 1 in 500 of BoF, but i will not be excited nor i will be bragging about this because i know that way ahead, there is still room for improvement. But thanks to everyone.

WHAT DID GETTING TO DO A WORLD TOUR GIVE YOU? AND WHICH TOUR IS THE MOST IMPRESSIVE?

Mile: it gives you that type of experience that money could never buy. It’s experience in the fashion like we said earlier, or the world tour going to play concerts. Going to the World Tour, we were able to see the energy of all the fans. Each person is not the same. Touring allows us to meet groups of fans from many countries. Sometimes we had some technique problems. We were impressed because it made us realize that errors can happen all the time, even if it is a very big stage with a strong team behind.

IF YOU HAVE TO BUY A WATCH,HOW DO YOU CHOOSE IT?

Mile: First of all, it has to be “love at first sight' inside of me. It doesn't matter what type of watch but I have to love it, there must be a certain bond. I choose watches using my feelings. It looks a bit like i’m flirting with the watches (smiles). Secondly, it has to be a rare watch. Rare, the word 'rare' is my weakness. Some watches I liked a lot, that were not rare, I didn’t buy them.

HOW DO YOU MANAGE YOURSELF WHEN EVERYTHING IN LIFE IS MESSY OR SOMETHING IS NOT AS YOU LIKE?

Mile: Seriously, I will treat my emotions by, playing music, exercising, or doing anything that feels comfortable. I’ll do anything that distracts me from the reason why i’m suffering. I’ll change the interest, change the atmosphere, i’ll take myself out of there and for a while, i will have an overlap of ideas. And then i’ll finally deal with the idea that it’s bothering me. I retreat myself of one step to look at the problem in a second moment.

AT WHAT AGE DO YOU LIKE YOURSELF THE MOST? 10, 20 OR NOW THAT YOU’RE STARTING TAPPING THE NUMBER 3?

Mile: I think the number 2 is the period that I have tried everything i wanted to do. The number 2 is a period that i like. But it's a period where i learned a lot. Actually, i didn’t need to be responsible for things or the results that came from my decisions. If anything that you do, does not affect anyone, you can try it all. So you don’t have to be very careful. But i’m not sure… I may answer the number 3 but I just entered the number 3 and i’m gonna be here for a long time.

THINKING OF THE FUTURE, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO INVEST IN, TO MAKE YOUR OWN VALUE?

Mile: First of all is knowledge. But if it is an investment related to myself, I want to invest in real estate. I think the property has the highest potential.

NOW THE SPOTLIGHT SHINES BRIGHTLY ON YOU. HOW DO YOU PREPARE FOR THE DAY THE LIGHT WILL NOT SHINE ON YOU ANYMORE?

Mile: It's good to change the atmosphere (smiles). It’s what I learned when I had a lot of problems. It was in my 20s. At that time, i have experimented a lot. Because there were a lot of problems, both that i created myself and not. It made me learn one thing, which is important. Life is uncertain. Therefore, if we do anything, one day it will change. It’s the nature of this world. We must be born and get extinguished. When we understand this concept, when things get worse, we can manage ourselves.

EXPRESS THE FEELING OF WORKING WITH FRANCK MULLER AND ELLE MEN

Mile: I'm very happy. I like the watches very much. And I feel that shooting for a watch is something that i wanted to do for a long time. As for Franck Muller, I already knew the brand and i was interested. Because their watches have a unique character. The more I see this collection, the more i think it is very outstanding.

WHY DO FANS LOVE YOU SO MUCH?

Mile: I think because I'm not far from being myself. It's impossible for us to be ourselves 100%, no matter what industry we are in. But we should be honest with what we feel as much as possible. Both behind the screen and on the screen. And I think I am a person who understands people and that includes understanding myself.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SAY TO THE FANS BEFORE LEAVING?

Mile: I want to thank them again. Because I'm not sure if every time i say thank you, everyone receives that message. Because fans are not just in Thailand, not just in Asia. There is South America. There is a lot of Central Asia, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan. Because the popularity of Asia has expanded a lot. Therefore, what i mean is fans around the world. So I want to thank anyone who came to read this. Fans treated us well from the first day until today. 99% cute as before. Thank you to everyone. They’re part of our happiness. We are happy and happy to be part of their happiness.

#pls read the following tags #kinnporsche #mileapo #mile phakphum #mile x franck muller #i used google translator to translate this interview but the translation was a mess so i had to fix every single sentence #it took me soooo long but mile is worth my time 💚#i know my english is far from being perfect #so please if you see some typos or mistakes or sentences that a native english speaker would never use #let me know #i don’t get offended #on the contrary i appreciate it a lot because i like to learn new things #thank you 🙏🏻#this interview is very cute #i loved every part of it #the question about watches ajdkskdkf #RICH DUDES PROBLEMS

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mayhem-neverending · 6 months ago

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The Big Bad Wolf

Part XXI

Word Count: 3,435

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, one incidence of violence, mention of SA (not descriptive)

Note: I have written this in one go - one freaking sitting. I'm sure there are a lot of errors, so I apologize. I just want to get this out since I put so much in. I'll probably come back tomorrow to review and edit.

The week was spent with you and Obito glancing longingly at each other when the other person wasn’t looking. His stares, which weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, now set your nerve endings alight. He wasn’t faring much better - he visibly shuddered in delight when you accidentally brushed up against him with your backside because he was standing too close.

He was standing way too close. All the time. Obito wasn’t quite able to muster up the nerve to actually touch you like he was dying to do, so he hovered close enough that you would accidentally touch him while you worked. Acutely aware of your position at all times, he could anticipate when a brush of the hands or your hips bumping his would happen. It actually drove him crazy - the counting of the seconds while you scrubbed the counter next to him until your elbow would bump into him. He would scoot over just enough that you had another foot of countertop to work on, then let it happen all over again.

At night he felt like he might be going crazy. The way he felt bordered on obsession, and he feared he would soon be trapped within the Uchiha’s curse again if he didn’t get it together. He even considered very briefly asking Kakashi whether it was best for you to continue in your position because of his rapidly growing, hardly controlled feelings that begged to spill over onto you. The moment of introspection was obliterated when you exited the bathroom and continued working on your newest endeavor - painting the kitchen walls.

You had suggested adding some color to the home to make it feel warmer and more welcoming. He agreed. He suggested the kitchen and told you to choose whatever colors you wanted, because it was “really your area, anyway.”

You had looked up at him prettily and smiled so brightly the living room lamp acquiesced its light for a moment, knowing it could not compare to you. “Be careful,” you said. “Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile,”

You could take a thousand miles from him if it meant he had the opportunity to greet you at the finish line.

On Friday he was a bit agitated. Before you even arrived he had cursed the sun for being particularly bright, stubbed his toe and simultaneously spilled the last of the coffee grounds all over the floor. That meant you had to leave to go get some more - and a handful of other things. He stewed silently, staring at the primed kitchen walls.

Fridays were decidedly one of his least favorite days of the week, because he knew you wouldn’t be back the next morning. And with the building tension between the two of you that he looked forward to enjoying during the day, he was especially not ready for the weekend. Not to mention you had said something about going out with Genma, and that really left a bad taste in his mouth. He was already wondering if there was something more to the way that you looked at him when you left for the day, and whether or not that was a good thing. Adding Genma to his long list of worries would leave him pulling his hair out.

So when you left on Friday with a warm hug and a wave, he felt his heart sink. A part of him hoped you might stay longer. Maybe you could ask him to hold you again, without the burning eggs part so that he could cling to you and maybe you could accidentally fall asleep. Then maybe you could stay asleep and keep his nasty swirling thoughts at bay and he could smell you and feel your warmth all night. And then you could wake up in the morning refreshed and look at him while he pushes his hair behind your ear and he could tell you how he felt and -

Obito stopped himself. Maybe training would help clear his mind. He looked at the burning log in the fireplace. He decided he could always warm up with chopping some wood.

…

Hikaru went with his father after preschool on Friday, which freed up time for you to clean up your apartment from the workweek and get ready to go out on the town with Genma. He chose a pretty busy bar with a dancefloor that wasn’t too far from your place. You were feeling pretty good, energy surprisingly above your usual wear and tear.

After cleaning and putting together a quick dinner of leftovers, you showered and started getting ready. You decided to pull out an old outfit that fit a little snugly, but still made you look fantastic. You pranced around in the mirror a few times before eight o’clock finally rolled around. With one final kiss blown to the mirror, you shut the door and locked it. You walked to the bar in the slushy snow, only mildly irritated that you would definitely have to scrub your heeled boots later.

Genma was there when you arrived and waved you over to the bar. You took a seat next to him and he tapped his shoulder against yours. “You look good,”

“I know,” you smirked before it morphed into a goofy grin.

He rolled his brown eyes. “You’re still ridiculous, I see. What’re you drinking?”

“Rum and sprite, please,”

Genma motioned over the bartender and ordered your drink while you dug around for some money. He raised his eyebrow at you and shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s on me tonight,”

“Add it to my tab,” he said, the bartender nodded and walked away.

You raised a brow at him, a little perturbed as he turned and set his jaw on his fist, his full attention on you. You slowly put your wallet back in your bag, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t somehow mistook this as a date. “I can pay you back after,”

“It’s not a big deal. I make enough money. Buying your drink is the least I can do when you’re giving me your time,”

The bartender came around with your drink and you thanked him. You took a sip. “Well, that’s pretty sweet of you. Thank you, Genma,”

“Anytime,” He winked playfully.

You rolled your eyes on reflex. His grin broadened. “So, fill me in. What all has happened since I lost my favorite sparring partner?”

“You want the long or short version?” you crossed your right leg over your left and settled one elbow on the bar, the drink in your opposite hand.

“I’ll take the long one, if you don’t mind,”

You sighed out a little dramatically. “Alright, as long as you keep the drinks coming, I’ll try my best to get through it,”

“You got it,”

“Where to even begin…”

Genma wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted the long version. He paid attention the whole time, asking pertinent questions and gasping and nodding sympathetically where he needed to. You finished around the time your third drink was ordered. You were feeling a little tipsy, but not quite drunk yet. You gave Genma an easy smile and asked him the same question he had asked.

“How about this,” he started, leaning in. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, but when I get back, we’ll dance to a song and then I’ll tell it,”

“Aww, but you know I don’t dance,”

“You do tonight!” he replied cheerfully, sliding from his stool.

You didn’t argue, just took a sip from the water you ordered with your last drink and debated whether you should go to the bathroom, too, before you got to moving around. In the end you stayed seated. Genma was quick to finish, and dragged you to the dancefloor at the start of the next song.

You danced close to him, but not so much that you were touching. You had a thought as you looked around at all the people that you wouldn’t want anyone touching you. Anyone but Obito, that is. The revelation hit you like a sack of bricks, and you faltered in your movements.

“You okay?” Genma yelled over the music.

You nodded and he gave you an easy smile. He took your hand in his and twirled you around. Your heart beat to the music, and again you wished that it was Obito spinning you around. Not in a crowded bar, though. Maybe you could get some of your old records out and haul a record player over to his cottage. You smiled to yourself. Genma thought it was directed at him and spun you again, this time closer to his body.

You stumbled and accidentally stepped on the foot of a person next to you. You yelled, “Sorry!”

When you looked up, you locked eyes with none other than Toma. Your expression soured immediately. He looked you up and down and then at Genma behind you, and his mouth turned down and his gaze turned sharp.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You yelled. “You’re supposed to be watching Hikaru!”

“What? I can’t go out too?” he rolled his eyes. He sneered at Genma, who sized him up.

“Listen,” he spit out at Toma. “We’re just trying to have a good time. Let’s leave it there,”

Genma looked at Toma like he was something putrid. You probably matched his expression, the drinks loosening up your usual blank mask. Toma stepped closer, invading your space. You backed up into Genma, who was surprisingly solid.

“I always knew there was something between you two. I was right to make you stop seeing him,”

“Fuck off, Toma. Seriously. Who is Hikaru with?”

He looked at you like you were the dumbest person he had the displeasure of meeting. “My mom. And no, I’m not going to fuck off. You’re going to listen to me since you’ve refused to do it all this time,”

“No, she’s not. Leave us alone,”

He snorted derisively. “Like I’d listen to you,”

“You should, if you know what’s good for you,” Genma growled, his feet widening into a fighting stance.

You looked around, frantic to find a way to diffuse the situation. The last thing you wanted was to make a scene in front of all these people. Especially one that looked like two men were fighting over you. Toma squared his shoulders and started lifting the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

“We’re leaving,” you said to Genma over your shoulder.

He looked back at Toma, who interrupted whatever he was planning to say to you. “No the fuck you’re not. I told you I wanted to talk to you and I’m going to fucking do just that,”

You pushed a little on Genma who got the hint and the two of you started to back up off of the dance floor. “I’m not listening to whatever it is. You had your chance to say your piece,”

His eyebrows could have hit his hairline with how far they raised. “Oh, is that right? When all you do is avoid me and then you’re with your little fuckbuddies whenever I can actually talk? No, just you and me are going to have a conversation,”

His eyes shone dangerously in the low bar lighting. You knew he wasn’t a real threat. Physically, he never was and never could outmatch you in hand to hand combat, but your heart hammered all the same. You weighed your options. If you could get him outside of the door you could -

“Genma!” A shrill voice called from behind the two of you.

Both your heads whipped around and Toma snickered. Genma’s girlfriend stood there, fuming red, her cell phone clutched in her hand so tightly the knuckles were white. “This better not be what I think this is. I’ve called you twelve times. Twelve, asshole!”

The only thing you could think was: This is a shitshow.

“Hailey, honey, I’m sorry! I told you I was catching up with an old friend tonight, though,”

“This is too much,” you said to yourself.

Genma had fully turned around so you slipped past him on the other side and made a beeline for the door. You hoped Toma was too distracted by whatever was about to go down to notice. You slipped through the door as other patrons were entering and started making long strides. The squelch of footsteps in the slush behind you told you that you hadn’t escaped like you had hoped.

“Not so fast,” he said lowly, quickly catching up to you.

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. With venom you spit out, “I’m listening. What do you want?”

Toma wasn’t aware of where your home was located, so you made the decision to head in a familiar direction. You didn’t slow your pace, just waited for him to start now that he had completely caught up with you.

“You never listened to me. Not once when we were together. It was always about you. Every single thing,” He started, and you smell the alcohol wafting from him in the cold night air.

You almost faltered in your steps, but didn’t let your surprise show. You still felt some effect of the alcohol, even though you had started to sober, so you allowed yourself a small mental win over that. You said nothing so he continued on. And on, and on. You started approaching the woods when he was finished on his spiel about how conceited you were and how he gave every part of himself to the relationship.

“You never wanted to have sex with me. Just admit it, you were cheating. I promise I won’t get too mad,”

You scoffed, entering the woods and picking up your pace. You were at nearly a jog now. All you wanted was Obito right now. He could make you feel okay and Toma would leave you alone, or at least couldn’t cross the barrier and harass you outside the front door.

“I never cheated on you,”

“You did,” His voice raised slightly, shoving a branch away from his face.

“I didn’t,”

“You did. I know it. Just tell the truth,”

“I never cheated on you, not once. Why can’t you just accept that that’s the truth?” You huffed.

He was quiet for a moment and you could tell he was struggling to catch his breath. “Why else wouldn’t you want to have sex with me? There has to be another man.”

“Maybe it’s because I told you I didn’t want to have sex over and over and you forced yourself on me anyway? Ever think about that?” You fully looked at him for the first time since the walk began.

“I never fucking forced myself on you,” he argued, his volume rising.

“You sure as hell did. But you know what, I’ve done a lot of fucking work and I’m healed from it, so just fuck off and leave it alone,”

“You’re fucking crazy and a liar. You’re just saying that because you hate me,”

You were getting so close to the barrier you could feel the chakra radiating from it. “Toma, I don’t hate you, because I can’t bring myself to give that amount of energy to you,”

“You’re so full of yourself,”

You didn’t respond. You were almost there, and then you could leave the conversation for good. Or at least until he wasn’t drunk. He was really starting to piss you off with all of his shit.

“Look at me,” he growled.

You didn’t respond. The tip of your shoe hit the barrier and relief started washing over you. Toma grabbed your upper arm and ripped you away from it.

“I said, ‘Look at me’!” He yelled.

In that moment you felt like the trapped animal you had been, terrified to leave for the safety of your son and your own livelihood, backed into a corner as he berated you and made you feel worthless. Less than a person. You froze for a millisecond, taking in his red, angry face when an instinct took over you faster than you could think.

His next words fell on deaf ears as the crack of your knuckles met with cheekbone. He crumpled to his side as you scurried across the barrier, tripping over your own feet. The front door to the cottage opened and the cleared walkway was illuminated by the lamplight from inside. Obito stood in the doorway, a hulking shadow.

He called out to you, confusion lacing his tired voice. He took a step further out of the house.

“Obito!” you cried out, relief saturating your tone.

“What’s going on?” He walked out quickly, alarmed that you were rushing towards him.

You buried yourself in his arms just as Toma screamed, “You bitch!” from behind the barrier.

The concern he was looking at you with was flipped immediately into something dark. He looked over your head at Thoma, who angrily beat his fist against the invisible barrier. “Why is he here?”

“He was at the bar Genma and I went to and wouldn’t leave me alone. He followed me here. He probably thought I would end up taking him to my apartment so he could harass me some more,” You uttered quietly.

Obito stiffened, and then squared his shoulders. He gently pushed you to the side and approached the edge of the barrier. “Leave,” he called out.

“Or what?” you heard Toma sneer, his hand cupping his cheek.

“Or I’ll make you,”

Toma took a step back but didn’t make any other move to go. “What are you gonna do? Huh?”

Obito waited wordlessly for him to follow his directive. He was taller and wider than Toma. If he thought Obito could walk through the barrier, intimidation would be the only thing he needed.

“Who the fuck are you, anyway? Her boyfriend? How are my sloppy seconds?”

You could feel the rage trickling into Obito’s chakra signature. He growled darkly, “Don’t talk about her,”

You went to stand next to him again, not sure what he would do, but ready to drag him inside. Toma looked like he was itching to have his teeth knocked out with the way he was grinning. “So you are the new boyfriend,”

“Doesn’t matter either way, it’s not your business,” you stated. “Let’s go, Obito,”

“Ohhh, so your name’s Obito… Why does that sound familiar? He someone you used to fuck? Maybe he’s the one you cheated on me with,”

A sinister grin spread across Obito’s lips. “You’ve heard of me,”

Confusion started to creep onto Toma’s features. “You think you’re special or something? Who’s he, some shinobi?”

The look on your face answered his question. “So you think you’re bigger and better than me because you did, what? Save a kitten and get a shout out from the Hokage? Think you’re -”

“Obito Uchiha. That’s who I am. And if you recall, people won’t remember me for saving a kitten,” he kept his voice an octave low, and the sound of it chilled the air around the three of you.

It took Toma all of two seconds for recognition to cross his features and the color to drain from his face. He looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re joking. You must- You have to be joking,”

You shook your head.

“You can’t leave this barrier, so you can’t hurt me,” Toma said suddenly. Words to comfort himself.

Obito’s sinister grin only widened. “Can’t I?”

You saw the red tomoe appear in his dark eyes, glowing in the dark night. They swirled into place, and Toma’s jaw dropped, along with yours. You didn’t think you would ever have the chance to see the Uchiha’s signature jutsu again after Kakashi lost his, and you were reminded why it was so terrifying. The way the Sharingan fit an Uchiha felt like a display of raw power.

“Leave, and don’t ever come back. Don’t speak her name again, don’t look at her, don’t presume to speak to her about anything other than your son, or I’ll make you wish you had never been born,”

Toma stumbled backwards and ran. You could hear him stumbling over wet roots and leaves. You would laugh if you weren’t also intimidated by the man next to you.

Obito turned to you and the red swirled away. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, staring up at him. He scratched the back of his head, his eyes downcast. He flicked them back up to you. “I’m really sorry you had to see that… Do you want to come inside?”

You cleared your throat. “Please,”

Part XXII

Taglist: @mostlyunsure, @humongousdreamlandbear, @ichaichahatake, @mandy-yeager, @detectivestucks, @faces-ofvenus

#naruto #x reader #obito uchiha #x y/n #au #obito uchiha x reader #obito x reader #obito lives au

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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TickleTober Day 29 - Wake Up!

@hexalianrebel-blackfeathers - Definitely 29 (Wake Up!) with Hobie getting tickled awake one too many times by Gwen, Pavitr, and/or Miles. I admit I wouldn't be able to pick just one.

Why choose? I’ve got a feeling it’d probably take all of them to get his ass good, and why not revenge it? Got a little carried away with this one, but I’m pretty happy with how it came out! Used a few of Panda's hcs too! Sorry for the all the lateness recently, it’s been quite the month (O_Ou) Anyhow, I’ve loved writing these spider sillies for you, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Hobie, brief Gwen

Lers: Miles, Gwen, Pavitr

Summary: There’s one golden rule in Hobie’s house boat; don’t wake him up. His friends always break that rule. Deciding to be brats, the spider kids tickle Hobie awake once again. After he recovers, he takes a little revenge.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!

In Hobie's boat, there was a spoken and unspoken rule. One that his friends could never seem to follow, no matter how many times he snipped at them for it.

Don't wake him up.

Every single time he lets one of them crash at his place, he winds up awake way before he wanted to be. Sometimes it's an accident, like a loud sneeze, broken cereal bowl or random floor squeak. Other times, though, it was 100% intentional. Times like that one.

Hobie was peacefully sleeping, draped over his couch. The other three had stayed the night, so he of course offered up his bed. The punk was tall, meaning he needed a bigger bed. The mattress comfortably fit the three of them, and he could live on the couch. He'd rather have his friends be comfy anyway.

He was planning on sleeping in. True, noon is a bit late, but he had goofed around most the night with the other spider kids; couple that with a full day of patrolling, and you'll know that he deserved a nice rest.

Gwen had been the first to wake up, her father's old work schedule sticking with her. It was nearly nine, but still. She quickly got bored, and not wanting to be the only one awake, poked Pav's sides. He slowly woke, grabbing at her hands and giggling.

Giggling... Bingo. It would probably get her killed, but Gwen had a wonderful idea. "Hey Pav, how much do you value your sanity?"

He rubbed his sides, still a bit put off by the light tickling. "Uhum, it depends? What do you have in mind?" The mischievous look on her face, while endearing, sent a small chill down his spine. That look only meant one thing, though it wasn't aimed at him this time.

"I think Hobie deserves a special good morning. For letting us stay over, you know?" Pavitr sighed, knowing exactly what she had in mind. “Are you even a small bit worried about his revenge? He has told us many times over to just let him sleep.” He wanted to add that her idea would only get them “tortured,” but the thought made his cheeks go pink. It wouldn’t be that bad...probably.

The next to get roped into her plan was Miles. He got a much nicer wake-up call; Gwen was a bit too flustered to tickle him awake. She opted for poking his cheek until he groaned. “Mmmph…wah?” The boy slowly sat up, immediately picking up on the playful vibe in the room. Should be fun, whatever it was. “What’re you two planning, and can I get in on it?”

One hushed, giggly conversation later, they had a plan. A very stupid, silly plan that would undoubtedly backfire, but a plan.

Pavitr inched towards the sleeping punk, regretting his offer to pin him. If even one floorboard squeaked, or if Hobie’s spider sense went off too early, he would be a dead man. A giggly dead man, but a dead man nonetheless. Slowly, he raised his wrists, firing off a few webs at Hobie’s long arms. The punk shifted, but other than that, he didn’t react. Whew…

Miles and Gwen, the cowards, crept into the room behind him. Now that Hobie was restrained, they had no chance of being punished for their actions. “Nice job, Pav. You wanna do the honors?” The bubbly teen shook his head, backing away. “Oh no. I did the dirty work. You seal your own fates.”

Chuckling, Miles approached Hobie; he was feeling brave. He could feel the anarchist stir as he straddled his waist. It was clear he didn’t want to get up, regardless of what was happening. Miles placed his hand on Hobie’s stomach, slowly curling his fingers on the taunt skin. Hobie’s eyes fluttered open, a small glare on his face. The teen just smirked. “‘Sup, Hobie.”

The punk growled, tugging at his arms. Gwen giggled, Pavitr moving behind her to avoid his gaze. “You little shits… What’d I say ‘bout waking me up?” The hell…? Oh. They pinned his arms with web fluid. They were double dead now. “Al’ight, which one a’ yous planned this?”

Pav, ever loyal, pointed to Gwen behind her back. She swatted his hand away, laughing. “Ihit was a group effort! Morning, Hobs!”

He huffed, looking down at Miles’ fingers for just a second. “You lot are dead as doorknobs.” That would have been a believable threat if a smile wasn’t threatening to come out. Just thinking about the slow fingers on his stomach were getting to him, though he’d never admit it.

“Sure, sure. Who’s the one pinned under who, Hobie?” Oh, that cocky little- “Miles, I would not push our luck!” At least Pav had some sense. He would go easy on the teen when he took his revenge. Maybe. “It’s cool. Hobie isn’t going anywhere.”

“When I get outta this, you’re all gonna-” Miles cut him off with wiggling fingers, finally attacking the hero’s midsection. Hobie suppressed a squeal, snapping his mouth shut to block the silly sounds from escaping. He thrashed and tugged at the webs, almost bucking Miles off him. The smug teen yelped, hanging onto the couch for dear life. “Hey guys! Little help?”

Gwen quickly ran over to assist, knowing what would happen if Hobie got free; she wasn’t ready for their fun to end so quickly. Hopping on the couch, she sat on his thighs, back-to-back with Miles. “I gotcha! Here, lemme just-” She skittered her nails along his calf, knowing softer tickles worked better on his legs. The stoic boy cracked, bass-sounding giggles rumbling in his chest. Even his giggling was cool…

“Y-youhuhu aharse! Gehe’ ohohoff!” He tried kicking his legs out, but with Gwen on his thighs, he could only squirm. Miles was wasting no time, digging into his stomach and scribbling on his navel. Gwen, on the other hand, was being torturously gentle. It was a small mercy that Pavitr hadn’t joined them, still hesitant on whether or not the punk was okay with it all.

Why did he have to be so nice? Hobie wouldn’t say he was enjoying the silly interaction. He would never, ever admit say something like that. The teasing teens were just enjoying a small joke with him. A joke they would be paid back for, with interest, but a fun game all the same. Who was he to deny them that small pleasure? “Y-youhu’re wahastin’ prehecious time thehere, Pavi! Ihihi’m gohonna kill all ohof you whehen I gehet loose, mihihight as wehehell have sohome fuhuhun!”

The concerned teen needed no more encouragement. He practically bounced over to where Hobie’s arms were pinned, ready to wreak havoc on his nervous system. Pav knew that Hobie had to be in the right mood for them all to tickle him; thankfully, he was. Ten eager fingers dug into Hobie’s hollows, pulling a squeak from his full lips.

Okay, he was regretting that decision. Hobie tried to curl up, tug his arms free, anything to gain the upper hand on the teens “attacking” him. Pav’s webs held strong though, Gwen’s hold on his legs surprisingly sturdy. While he was completely occupied, Gwen was growing a bit bored with the sort-of-loud laughter. She felt like being a menace; the big reactions were what she was after.

Hobie’s eyes widened when he felt Gwen messing with his boot’s laces. “GW-GWEHEHEN! DOHON’ YOUHU FUHUHUCKIN’ DAHAHARE!” Two pairs of eyes quickly moved to Hobie’s legs, the boys wanting to see what would happen next. Pavitr knew that was a bad spot, but Miles was the most inexperienced with Hobie. It would be funny to see his reaction.

Gwen, knowing he would do anything to get her off, laid across his legs. Hopefully her weight and strength would be enough to keep him down. The anarchist could handle tickling almost anywhere else. That spot, though? He was screwed.

Miles and Pav each stopped their teasing fingers, figuring he could only handle so much at once. The first boot came off, thunking against the wood floor of his house boat. “Gwehendy! Gw-gwehen, c’mon! Enough’s ehenough, mate!” She didn’t share his opinion. One finger dragged up his socked sole, making him muffle a squeal. “Really, Hobs? Plaid socks? And you say I’m a monster.”

“F-fuhuck ohohoff! Miles, Pahav, get her!” He looked to his friends, silently hoping they’d see how evil that was. Both teens gave him an apologetic smile, just holding him down. “Sorry, big man. We won’t let her kill you, promise.” Those little fucking- “GYAAH! GWEHEHENDYHIHI! NAHAHAO!”

Boisterous, loud, frantic laughter flew from his lips, quickly filling the room. He thrashed like a lanky worm on a hook, kicking and twisting in every direction possible. It tickled so fucking much.

Miles was taken aback by the intense reaction. He had never seen Hobie laugh that hard before; it was just one foot, with the sock on. Mental notes were definitely being taken. “Damn Hobie, you’ve got some pipes on you.”

He wanted to flip the boy off, yell at him, do anything other than laugh his ass off; yet he couldn’t. The spot was that bad. Tears of mirth grouped in the corners of his eyes, his dark cheeks stained a bright red. He could barely form a sentence through his laughter, much less escape. Pride crawling in a hole for the moment, Hobie did the one thing he said he’d try his hardest to never do: beg. “PLEHEHEASE! GWEHEN- STOHOP!”

Just like that, the devilish nails left his socked sole. Miles and Pavitr quickly put some distance between themselves and the punk, valuing their lives. Gwen cut the webs on his arms, freeing him to curl up and giggle his head off. And he did just that; his arms wrapped around his midsection, one hand going to rub his poor foot as his knees went up to his chest. Gwen jogged to the kitchen, getting him a glass of water.

When offered the liquid, Hobie sighed, downing the entire cup in seconds. His cheeks had calmed a bit, breathing slowly returning to normal. Miles whispered to Pav, not knowing that Hobie could hear every word. “Never guessed Hobie would be a ticklish-feet guy. Hell, I never thought he’d be that ticklish, period.” The punk groaned, making Pavitr giggle. “Why do you think he wears those big boots? Tickle deterrent.”

Okay, that’s enough of their shit. Hobie stood, one booted and ready to enact his revenge. “I suggest you lot run now.” Miles needed no more warnings, turning invisible and darting away. Pavitr ran for the bedroom, locking himself inside. Gwen tried to do the same, but one of Hobie’s webbed snagged her and brought her into his arms. “Hey there, Gwendy. I fink some payback is in order, yeah?”

Trapped in the backwards hug, Gwen couldn’t do much besides squirm and plead with him. She was regretting not changing out of her thin sleep top. “H-hobie, come ohon! I was just trying to make you smile! It- it worked, didn’t it?” Okay, check on the obvious lies. “Y’know I don’ like liars, Gwenny. Time ta pay your penance.”

He dug into her stomach, paying special attention to the small amount of pudge below her navel. She squealed, her knees quickly buckling as loud laughter poured out of her. She really couldn’t handle the taste of her own medicine. “H-HOHOBIE NOHOHO! IHIT- NOHO FAHAHIR!”

Hobie snorted, loving her immediately crazed reaction. “Not fair? You kiddin’ me? This is 100% fair, ya shit.” He decided to be a bit mean, using both hands to claw at her ticklish tum. Snorts started to break up her laughter, her cheeks growing red as cherries. It was worth waking him, but damn, why did his hands have to be so big?!

A creak came from the floorboards behind him, making the lanky boy pause. He webbed Gwen’s arms to her sides, scanning the room. “You. I’m gonna be back for you.” Hobie turned his full attention to the rest of the room, watching as his old floorboards shifted near the bathroom door. Bingo.

Hobie spent the rest of the afternoon hunting the perpetrators and making sure they learned their lessons. By the end of it, all three superpowered teens had rosy cheeks, dopey smiles and tired eyes. They were currently in a cuddle pile on the couch, the punk being used as a communal pillow. And you know what? He wouldn’t change a damn thing.

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theroseceleste · 23 days ago

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Vampire Miguel - Part 6 - Now You See Me

The group of vampires work together to learn a new trick and there's trouble with the Daily Bugle, how will you negotiate it?

Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 10,712

Contains - Confrontation with the boss. Smut - oral and penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Miguel observes you as you lay in his bed, a content smile spreads across his face as he admires how comfortable you look. You’re sleeping soundly after another passionate evening shared between the both of you. He loves how your hair splays around your head on his pillow, how his sheets cover your naked body, accentuating your curves.

You turn on your side, facing him while you sleep.

He should get up soon; he has to contact Peter and tell him what’s been happening. Parts of him consider having the family of three stay in the shelter too, just to make sure everyone he knows and cares about is safe.

He leans over you as gently as possible so as to not wake you and tenderly plant kisses down your arm before climbing off the bed.

Clothes are all over the floor, making him chuckle slightly as he remembers how the pair of you tried to subtly enter his room without the others noticing. The moment his door was shut, you both were all over each other, ripping clothes off and kissing passionately.

He finds some new clothing to wear and puts his worn clothes in his washing hamper. This evening, he chooses a red, long-sleeved shirt which hugs him in all the right places. Once fully dressed, he quietly opens the door and shuts it, leaving you to sleep on in peace.

As usual, the youngsters have taken root at the communal area, all except one. Miguel steps out of his room and watches in a bemused manner as Miles figures out he can scale the walls.

“Hey, check this out. I’m like a spider!” he chuckles as he manages to get a little higher. The others all lazily turn their heads up to observe Miles.

“~Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can.

Spins a web, any size. Catches thieves just like flies.

Look out! Here comes Spider-Man,~”

Miles makes up a super hero theme tune on the spot as he keeps climbing while most of the other youngsters laugh. Hobie, on the other hand, lets out a friendly scoff. “Spider-Man? Sounds bonkers mate.”

Pavitr turns around fully on the couch, kneeling on the cushions to take a look at Miles. “Ohhh, imagine! Slinging webs, swinging between buildings; the sky’s the limit,” he speaks with wonder as he spreads his arms wide gesturing to the vastness of the city skyline.

A cushion goes soaring through the air and smacks the back of Pavitr’s head as Miles jumps back down to the floor.

“Hey! Who threw that?” he asks as he grabs the cushion and looks accusingly at Hobie, who then points at Peni idly playing on a handheld gaming device. “You could have messed up my amazing hair!” he tosses the cushion at Peni which flies directly into her face as she drops her game in her lap.

“ACK!” she yelps as she springs up onto the couch, ready to launch the cushion back at Pavitr. Unfortunately for her, Miguel intercepts by seizing it and raises it up in the air, making her dangle below, kicking wildly.

“Pav; it was Hobie. I saw him,” he says to intervene.

A light growl comes from Peni who wrenches the offending cushion out of Miguel’s grasp and takes a swing at Hobie.

“Tch; snitch!” he retorts as he takes cover from Peni’s onslaught of attacks. Miguel shrugs and heads into the kitchen, leaving them to it while all the others join in with the hilarity and chaos in the communal area.

Lyla turns around after loading the washing machine as she hears Miguel enter the kitchen. Then, she folds her arms and leans against the wall, observing Miguel as he grabs a blood pack out of the fridge. “So? Spill the beans,” she says as she raises an expectant eyebrow while a yelp followed by a crash is heard from outside in the communal area.

He looks at her quizzically as he tosses the pack on a glass plate and shuts it in the microwave. “What do you mean?” he asks as the drum in the washing machine starts to spin, joining in with the sound of the microwave heating his meal. A cushion flies past the kitchen door.

“What really happened at Y/N’s home? You sly dog,” she grins and wiggles her eyebrows.

Apart from the constant noise of the kitchen appliances and the hooliganism going on outside, silence falls between the pair. Miguel, too, folds his arms and sits on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies coolly, doing his damndest not to appear flustered by dragging his phone out of his pocket to type a message to Peter.

A small fist bumps into Miguel’s arm, giving him a friendly nudge. “I saw you and Y/N sneaking into your room earlier. What happened in her apartment?” she grins.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can work it out,” Miguel sighs in defeat - the secret wasn’t going to remain one for long…

A shrill squeak of excitement erupts from Lyla which fills the tiny room before the microwave beeps. “~Miggy’s got a girlfriend!~” she grins and claps her hands together with glee.

Yanking the microwave door open, he takes out the plate and places it on the countertop to cool. “We’re not official or anything. I just really like her,” he admits as he finishes up messaging Peter and putting his phone back in his pocket.

“You really really like her though,” she grins again as now what seems to be a flurry of cushion feathers start fluttering into the kitchen.

Miguel’s gaze lowers as he presses his fingers against the pack of blood to feel how hot it is. “Yes, I do. Happy now?” he asks as he picks up his meal. “Go on; go to bed while I try to drink in peace - ‘try’ being the operative word with that rowdy lot outside…” he continues as he nods his head towards the communal area.

Lyla eyes the feathers scattered around on the floor. “They’re getting restless; being cooped up in here all the time,” she comments, sounding sympathetic. A frown spreads across her lips.

The vampire lets out a tired sigh. “I know, but here’s the safest place for them at the moment. Morbius is trying everything he can to get to me,” he pauses for a moment as he also looks at the feathers that have wafted into the kitchen. “I’ve told Peter to come here tonight, and instructed MJ and Mayday to travel here tomorrow during the day. I want everyone here where I can keep tabs on you all.”

His business partner nods in response. “Probably the smartest move,” she says as she stands up and unfolds her arms. With a wave of her hand she wishes Miguel good night and leaves the kitchen. “Right, which one of you rascals is buying a new cushion?”

You wake to feeling something much warmer than a blanket covering you. Before you open your eyes, you can tell Miguel has re-entered the room and climbed onto the bed. He nuzzles you gently and holds you close. A soft moan leaves your lips as you slip back into consciousness and nuzzle him back.

His chest is already bare. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating against yours. It’s clear that he has had some blood to drink recently.

“Time to get up, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, making you grumble and snuggle him more tightly.

“No…” you nuzzle against his thick neck, “just five more minutes…”

A faint smile spreads across his face. He wants to enjoy his time with you, however there is the underlying stress of what the new day will be bringing. “Okay, but you should get up soon,” he replies before delivering a tender kiss to the top of your head.

Begrudgingly, after a few minutes, you finally leave the bed, but you make the mistake of looking back at the beautiful man you’re abandoning under the sheets. Your heart flutters when you two lock eyes, as you consider maybe you can squeeze in a quick intimate and passionate moment before starting work. His body is simply irresistible… However, you fear that once you start, you will not be able to stop.

After getting dressed, you send a message to your boss to notify him that you’ll be working out of the office again. Then you sit back down on the bed, to give your new vampire lover a kiss before finding a quiet spot to work.

“Sweet dreams,” you whisper to him as your lips brush against his. Long, tanned fingers thread through strands of your hair as you feel his mouth respond to your light kisses.

“Have a good day, Y/N,” he whispers back.

The blissful moment shared between you both is suddenly rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. Looking at the screen, it says your boss is calling you. Perhaps his patience is wearing thin and wants you in the office.

You pick up your phone and answer it, feeling a slight pounding in your heart. “Morning Mr. Jameson,” you say, doing your best not to stutter.

“Y/N; care to tell me why there is a video of you on the internet opening fire at what looks to be a vampire? What’s going on? Explain; now.”

Miguel can immediately see that something is wrong. Your hands tremble so much that you nearly drop the phone.

“W-what?” you manage to choke out in surprise.

Your boss scoffs. “I know it’s you. That much is clear in the video.”

There’s a video? You ask yourself. How the hell do you negotiate this situation? “Mr. Jameson, I don’t know what video you’re referring to,” you ask, doing your best to sound as ignorant and innocent as possible, but your concerned gaze lands on Miguel, who’s eyes widen. After standing up from the bed, you search for your laptop in your bag with one hand while holding your phone to your ear.

“Oh, please, Y/N-”

“Send it to me,” you reply, sounding a little more commanding than you intended. Your laptop clacks down on Miguel’s desk before you open it and turn it on. The sound of the bed creaking tells you that Miguel is coming to take a look too, gathering his sheets around his hips.

“Alright…” Mr. Jameson replies, humouring you as you hear him type your email address and click send.

After your laptop boots up, you log in and immediately open your emails. Your boss’ email is sitting tauntingly at the very top of your inbox in large, bold, black text. A warm hand rests on your shoulder as you take a seat at the desk and open the email. Miguel, too, is very eager to see what this is all about.

You click on the link in the email from Mr. Jameson and it takes you to a YouTube channel called V-Tube. At first glance, it looks like a place that displays supposed proof that the creatures of the night exist. Except, in this case, the video in front of you is in fact, definite proof.

Silence falls on the line as you play the video. Sure enough, there you are, clinging onto Miguel on the back of a bike shooting at a winged creature. Thankfully, the camera angle doesn’t reveal Miguel’s face, but this does land you slap bang in the middle of a whole lot of trouble with your boss and potentially your job. There must have been a car that wasn’t involved in the chase, but a passenger within it witnessed the entire event and recorded it.

“Shit…” you hear Miguel mutter quietly behind you, he steps away and paces the room as he tries to think. Then, he grabs his phone and opens up a news app to check what’s being said there.

“Something’s going on, Y/N, and what I want to know is why aren’t you writing about this?”

You gulp. A lump has formed in your throat and doesn’t seem to want to go away.

“You’re not denying it then? Your involvement in this?” Mr. Jameson probes. How can you deny it? Your face is right there, in that video…

“I- last night I was out with my boyfriend,” you begin conjuring a lie; hopefully a believable one. Miguel turns to face you as you continue, partially because you called him your boyfriend. “We were attacked. I acted in self defence and I know nothing more about what we saw last night than you do.”

“Why would they be attacking you?” he asks, making you pause and panic.

“I don’t know. As far as I could see it was unprovoked. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity?”

Mr. Jameson sighs as he considers your words. He guesses what you said could be the truth… The brief silence is broken once more as he speaks. “Well, at least you’ve got something to write about. A perfect opportunity and your first hand experience will make an interesting read to say the least.”

Your heart lurches, of course he’s going to make that suggestion. “But I-“

“Not buts; I want you to write about this,” he growls as you swear you hear him hit his desk in frustration. “You can do some digging into these beasts too for future articles. Civilians need to know who they are truly residing with,” you hear a series of beeps in your ear coming from your phone, telling you that your boss has hung up. Your hand holding your mobile lowers as your eyes remain fixed on your laptop screen. What are you going to do?

Miguel comes over to see you again, still clutching his bed sheet around his hips. “What did he say?” he asks, his expression full of concern, eyebrows knitted together.

You turn back to look at him, your expression almost mirroring his. “Mr. Jameson wants me to write about what happened last night. Claiming that Nueva York citizens need to know about who else lives in the city,” you reply as you watch Miguel shake his head and turn away to begin pacing again.

“No. You’re not going to - you can’t.”

Placing your cell phone down on his desk, you stand up to meet him across the room. “I could warn the Daily Bugle readers about Morbius?” you offer as a suggestion but he looks back at you, his expression now looking more serious than concerned.

“And cause mass panic? Because that’s what your article will do,” he pauses before adding: “Or make them think you’re mad.”

“So, I just sit and do nothing?” you ask before you point at your laptop. “If I don’t write, I’m out of a job. Jameson has told me I have to write about last night,” as you speak, your voice cracks with emotion, concern and stress, desperate to find a middle ground that everyone can be happy with.

Miguel just simply looks at you, obstinate and resolute.

“You’ve said it yourself: Morbius is getting reckless. He wants to stop you from getting in his way. How far will he go to do that? How many people might die as collateral damage? People need to know,” you argue with passion, although you notice standing your ground against Miguel is actually rather frightening.

He stands silently for a moment before he looks away. “You’ll find another job, I’m sure,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your jaw drops at his response and your heart pounds. “That’s it?” you ask incredulously. “I’ll be forced to find another job because you say so?”

Miguel advances on you suddenly. “What’s going on is so much bigger than the Daily fucking Bugle!” he yells as one hand clasps your shoulder while the other remains on the sheet around his hips. “If you write anything to do with the existence of vampires, I promise you there will be pitchforks and lit torches before the day is done,” he gestures to his bedroom door. “Those kids out there, are under my protection. They are my responsibility. Even MayDay would be at risk - an infant!”

His words echo uncomfortably in your mind. You remember how he was treated when a small village found out about him being a vampire. How would an entire city respond? Or even potentially the world? It’s clear Miguel still has trouble with trusting humanity, and you can understand that whole-heartedly.

“What if Morbius doesn’t like what you write about vampires? You could be a target for a different reason other than simply being delectable. What if he targets the employees of the Daily Bugle in response? You want to risk that?” as he speaks, his eyes are wide, desperate to get his point across and for you to understand.

There is a moment where you both stare into each other’s eyes, passion burning brightly between you. As your heart pounds, your breathing quickens and your mind processing what feels like thousands of thoughts a minute.

“You think I’d be the only one writing about this?” you eventually ask as you rest your hand on his which still grips your shoulder. “Others will be looking at that video and writing about this for other newspapers. Whereas I was actually there,” you pause as Miguel pulls his hand away from your shoulder and sits down on the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands.

“That video is out there for all to see. People know now, regardless of me writing or not-” Miguel looks up at you.

“Then why even bother?” he interjects.

You kneel down in front of him and grip his arms. “Because I can use my voice - or my words, in this case - for good!” you’re so desperate for him to see things from your side, you could shake him. “You should trust me not to write about the kids. I will only report on what is important and necessary.”

“People are going to believe whatever they want. If they want to believe that every vampire is dangerous that’s what they’re going to do,” his voice is low and resentful, but not towards you. You can guess he’s still hurting from the way he was treated all those years ago.

“Then I will feel glad that I have written about my first hand experience being with good vampires like you, who saved my life. I may not be able to convince everyone, but I have gained trust over the years of working for the Daily Bugle,” your hands squeeze his wrists slightly. “Let me use my influence to help sway people in your favour.”

For the first time in a few minutes, Miguel’s furrowed brows relax as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally leaves his parted lips. He can see the determination in your eyes and it’s getting harder to argue against. Tiredness from a long night is making him cranky and maybe more liable to be uncooperative.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into his embrace as he lays back on his bed. He kisses the top of your head before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he begins as he tightens his grip on you. “Do what you need to do. All I ask is, can I see what you write before you submit it?”

That is a fair request. You are going to be writing about him after all. Supporting your weight with your hands on either side of his head, you look down at him. “Of course. I will start working on it right away,” you answer, before bending down slightly to kiss him back. “But you get some sleep first and I’ll show it to you when you wake up later before I email it to Mr. Jameson.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep,” he replies before pulling you in for another kiss.

He finally relinquishes you and gets under his covers, hiding his beautiful body away.

It’s hard, but you tear your eyes away from him and return to your laptop.

Giving it further thought, you decide to write an open letter as you worry sensationalising the situation might make it be taken less seriously. As you type, the sounds of your keys softly clicking on the keyboard lulls Miguel off into a deep and restful sleep.

Occasionally, you hear his soft snoring, sounding so peaceful and about the furthest away from being a threat to Nueva York as he can possibly get. You have to do him and most other vampires justice, for his sake and for the kids.

It takes a little while to compose everything you wish to say. Every word is carefully considered with the vampire’s best interests in mind.

In the afternoon, you take a break and speak with Lyla, who has spent most of the morning running errands and preparing the shelter for the arrival of MJ and MayDay.

It’s becoming abundantly clear that last night’s events scared Miguel. The fact he is calling in anyone who is associated with him shows that he thinks Morbius is a much bigger threat now than he ever was. If anything happens to anyone he has hidden away in this shelter, he most likely would never forgive himself. You know he holds himself responsible for not finishing Morbius off when he had the chance, and you suspect it eats away at him every single day.

During your break, you help set up a room for the family of three to share before MJ and MayDay arrive. You look forward to seeing that sweet little girl again; you’re certain she’s going to make living in the shelter much more entertaining.

By the time you are done with writing your open letter, Miguel stirs in his sleep, a soft groan comes out from a pile of pillows.

“Evening,” you call out as the mound under the blankets pillows wriggles. “I think I’m nearly done if you want to come and check it out.”

The sleepy monster finally rises from the land of slumber, stretching and yawning with dishevelled hair poking out in all angles. “Alright, I’m coming…” he replies, his voice sounding croaky as he emerges completely from under the blankets.

After getting some boxers and dark jeans on, he stands behind you, eager to read what you have written. The warmth of his chest beats down on you as he leans over to take a look.

“From The Horse's Mouth,

In the last twenty-four hours, a video has surfaced on the internet displaying winged creatures attacking me - yes, that’s right, me and a friend. I’m writing this to confirm that this is in fact true and not some kind of doctored footage. I am writing this to provide my story of what actually happened.

The truth is, I have very recently discovered that vampires do indeed exist. Just the other night, I found myself in the jaws - quite literally, of a vampire. That was until the man shown on the bike with me came to my rescue.

I went from living in complete ignorant bliss about vampires to being surrounded by them. Let me be crystal clear, I do not feel unsafe in their midst. In fact, they are simply humans who have recently been turned and wish to live in peace.

Just like humans, there are indeed bad vampires too. And I want to take this opportunity to warn as many as I can that there are several roaming the city. Following the orders of the one I was rescued from. His sights are set squarely on my hero, but I must stress that everyone must remain vigilant.

Do not engage with anyone you do not know more than you need to; no matter how charming they appear to be. If you have to be out at night, or travelling via the subway, be sure to have a trusted companion with you, or if that is not possible, stay away from quiet and secluded areas.

Stay safe.

Y/N, Daily Bugle”

As Miguel reads your open letter, a small smile spreads across his face. Relaxing over the fact you have written the vampires he is protecting in a good light. You are right. The cat is out of the bag, as he feared last night, and people will believe if this is real, or a hoax, or if vampires are good or bad. What you have written won’t make matters worse, but maybe help relieve the situation. And in doing so, you are keeping your boss happy too.

He pats your shoulder and then gives it a firm squeeze. “That sounds fine, Y/N. Thank you, and I’m sorry for being so stubborn with you this morning.”

Looking up at him, you spur him on to lean down and give you a kiss on the forehead. “It’s alright, I understand why you were reluctant,” you reply before looking back down at your screen and preparing it to be sent to Mr. Jameson.

The communal area has never looked so full. Twelve people are now living in the shelter and are in danger of completely cramming the couches. To allow people to spread out, Lyla and Miguel have dragged over some spare mattresses to provide extra sitting places.

On one sofa, you, Lyla and MJ all sit together eating a meal that was pre-prepared by MJ. On another couch, Gwen and Pavitr chat to one another animatedly, while Margo and Miles attempt to backseat game as they watch Peni play her gaming device on the third couch.

One of the mattresses in the communal area is littered with children’s toys as Peter plays with a wide-eyed MayDay. She giggles infectiously as her tower of stackable blocks falls down for the umpteenth time that evening.

In the corner, next to several crates, Hobie sits as he inspects the blades he acquired from the vampire he shot the night before. MJ had banished him there as she knew MayDay would likely want to get involved.

As he half unsheathes one of the swords, he hums the annoyingly catchy tune Miles came up with earlier as he scaled the walls.

The metal of the blade is indeed silver, and he makes a note to get hold of some leather gloves so he can handle them properly. For now though, they should be hidden away and out of reach from certain inquisitive little dhampirs…

As Miguel clears his throat to address the rest of the shelter’s occupants, Hobie struts past to put the weapons away in his shared room.

“Alright, listen up,” he starts as he speaks to everyone, but mostly the other vampires. He begins again when he has almost everyone’s attention. “In my recent run-ins with Morbius, his vampire-mist ability is proving killing him practically impossible. If I’m to learn how to do it and play him at his own game. I think you lot should too-”

“Vampire-mist?” Pavitr repeats in surprise, “we can do that?” he asks with intrigue and wonder as MayDay starts to fly away from Peter’s grasping hands.

Miguel nods. “If Morbius can do it, we can too. Just need to work out how,” he says, ducking out of the child’s flight path as her little wings carry her up to the ceiling behind him.

“Uh, MayDay, honey, come back down…” Peter calls out, his eyes fixed on his daughter as he gets up and scales the wall to reach her.

“What is it exactly?” Margo speaks up with interest as she nudges Peni to make her put her gaming device down.

Before Miguel answers, Hobie comes back out of his room and returns to the communal area, observing and smirking at the shenanigans between Peter and MayDay on the ceiling.

“It’s a form of teleportation. It’s an annoying habit of Morbius’s to use as a method of getting himself out of trouble. He’s engulfed by black mist before vanishing entirely,” he explains, trying hard not to sound too sore about his missed opportunity to kill Morbius two nights ago.

“Sounds neat. But why do you want us to learn it too?” Miles asks as Gwen and Margo nod in agreement to his question.

“It’ll be beneficial to us all, for self-defence…” Miguel’s voice drones on as he answers Miles’ question.

At the same time, Peter scrabbles about on the ceiling as MayDay slips between his arms, swooping left and right. MJ squeals as she peeps through the gaps of her fingers, no longer paying attention to Miguel.

Peter manages to catch MayDay and triumphantly holds her below his head as he stands upside down from the ceiling. “Gotcha!”

Simultaneously, Miguel turns around wondering what the fuss is all about. His eyes go wide as he walks right into Peter’s face and their lips connect in an unexpected kiss...

Time seems to have frozen in that moment of shock. Both you and MJ nearly choke on your food as Lyla bursts out laughing with the rest of the vampires.

Miguel tears his face away from Peter, spluttering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. His wide red eyes twitch as a chorus of laughter behind him fills the long hallway of the abandoned train station.

Peter chuckles as he finally gets himself back onto the floor. “What? I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?” he asks as he holds an excitedly babbling MayDay in his arms while MJ facepalms with embarrassment on the couch.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose as Peter returns to the mattress.

“MJ, you like my kisses, right?” he asks as he sits back down.

“I do, but not everybody does, I’d expect,” she answers wryly.

Once the hilarity has died down, you, Lyla and MJ head to bed. As you enter Miguel’s room, he follows you and wraps you up in his embrace. His lips brush against yours tenderly and sweetly before capturing them completely.

Your hands splayed across his chest as your fingertips traverse over his defined torso.

Reluctantly, Miguel pulls away, ending the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “I just wanted my last kiss of the day to be with you, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he nuzzles you, rubbing his nose against yours.

His words and his actions are so sweet and loving. It makes your heart flutter and you’re amazed that so much has changed between the both of you in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the drama you both have gone through together over the last forty-eight hours have brought you together and strengthened your bond so quickly.

You nuzzle him back before stealing another quick kiss but a bright smile shines across your face. A chuckle fills the room before you speak. “You haven’t kissed someone for two hundred years and now you’ve kissed two people in as many days.”

His hand taps you lightly on your rear as if it was aimed to be a little spank. Then, he holds you closer. “But you’re the only one who makes me hard.”

A sudden deep, hot pulse radiates from your core at his words. And sure enough, as he holds you close, you can feel him throbbing against you through his clothes. You bite your lip as you look up at him, making him smirk.

Miguel presses a tender kiss against your forehead as his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Hmm… food for thought before you fall asleep?” he chuckles as you pout slightly. “I’ve got to concentrate on learning Morbius’s little trick.”

You relent and relax the pleading puppy-dog expression and trembling pout, as you understand that Miguel has more important things to focus on. Anything he can learn to improve his abilities as a vampire could make a vast difference to the outcome of their next inevitable clash.

Before wishing you goodnight, he buries his face against the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath. A contented sigh leaves his lips as your scent gives him a buzz of determination.

“So, how are we going to try and learn this vampire-mist thing when nobody here knows how to do it?” Miles asks once all vampires congregate back in the communal area.

Gwen contemplates for a moment as she sits back on a couch. “Maybe it’s a mental thing? Turning into mist when calm?” she offers as a suggestion.

“Morbius can do it when he’s about to be killed, I don’t think he’s calm all the time when he does it,” Miguel replies as he rests his hands on his hips.

Pavitr sits up from lazing on another couch. “It’s an act of necessity,” he says as if a lightbulb has just been switched on in his mind. “The need for self-preservation or to avoid a situation Morbius doesn’t want to be in triggers the ability.”

Everyone falls silent, considering Pavitr’s thinking out loud. A faint rumble can be heard in a neighbouring tunnel as a train passes through.

Hobie shrugs with folded arms, leaning against a wall. “Makes sense,” he says as his lazy gaze wanders over to Miguel who is still thinking.

“Oh! Gwen; throw a cushion at me!” Pavitr exclaims with urgency.

Miguel looks up. “It’s not time to screw around, guys,” he retorts, but as he speaks, he watches Gwen expertly sling a cushion through the air, directly at Pavitr’s face. And to his absolute surprise, Pav vanishes in a cloud of black mist and the cushion flies cleanly through it, landing among some crates behind the couch.

Everyone but Miguel throws their arms up in the air in shock and disbelief that it worked for Pavitr first time round. A loud chorus of stunned laughter and cheers fill the room before the young vampire steps out of his room and rejoins the excited crowd.

“H-How did you…?” Miguel asks with a bewildered expression on his face, a very slight twitch evident in his eye.

“Easy!” Pavitr replies as Hobie gives him a celebratory pat on the back. “I didn’t want the cushion to mess up my hair,” he answers as he runs his fingers through his voluminous black locks.

“Look at you; being smart and fashionable while you do it.” It is now Peter’s turn to clap Pavitr on the back before he faces Miguel. “Looks like we have our answer,” he says as the other vampires start pairing up to try and make the other vanish.

Along the stretch of subway station that once had a constant flow of people all day every day stands pairings of vampires, teaming up to learn this interesting trick. Miles partners up with Gwen, Hobie, with Pavitr, Margo, with Peni and finally Miguel stands before Peter.

They try throwing punches or kicks at each other to see if they can trigger the vampire-mist response. For some, it isn’t quite so easy to do.

“Come on, Miles. You can throw a harder punch than that,” Gwen goads as she dodges a feeble attack.

“I don’t like the idea of hitting you,” he grunts as he takes another reluctant swing. “Besides, you’re not meant to be dodging them!” Frustration rises within him as Gwen steps aside once more.

“As Pav says, it’s an ability used out of necessity,” she says as she blocks Miles’ punch and raises her own fist. “I haven’t needed to use it.” Her clenched hand swings fast, aiming right towards Miles’ face giving him no time to duck. His eyes widen as he yelps before he disappears and reappears behind Gwen who’s now enveloped in mist.

“You nearly hit me!” Miles exclaims in shock before he realises what he’s just accomplished. He steps forward and shoves at Gwen, springing her forward and almost stumbling headlong into a wall. However, she never hits it as she, too, bursts into mist and reappears safely standing upright next to Miles. The pair of them stare at each other in silent surprise.

After already mastering the technique, Pav spends more time focusing on getting Hobie to work it out. He squints cheekily as he plans his next steps of action. Instead of trying to fight Hobie, he hounds him with questions and compliments about his appearance. “You have an impressive collection of badges my guy,” he says as he reaches out to touch a badge that’s pinned firmly in the leather of his sleeveless-jacket.

A hand swiftly swipes away Pavitr’s hand. “Nah-ah; hands off bruv,” Hobie warns as he corrects his badge, twisting it so it’s just how he likes it.

Pav grins widely. He’s spotted a weakness. In a flurry of fast movements, he reaches for the several shiny objects adorning Hobie’s clothing. “How many do you have? What does this one say? Where did you get this one from? Does that say, PM can suck my d-“ (PM = Prime Minister) Pavitr suddenly chokes on swirling black mist as Hobie vanishes before throwing his arms in the air with joy.

It isn’t long afterwards that Margo and Peni both learn how to do it too. Miguel growls with irritation as he sees the six youngsters work it out while he still struggles with Peter. It seems he has the chattiest partner, having almost a full-blown conversation with himself about how adorable MayDay is between throwing punches at Miguel.

Frustration builds gradually as he understands the concept of what’s needed but he realises he’s hardwired into acting with physical self defence, overriding any urge to vanish. “GAH! For fuck sake; what’s the use?” he lashes out and kicks a crate.

Peter’s shoulders slump with disappointment as it seems Miguel wasn’t exactly listening to his talk about his daughter. “Relax, Miguel. It’ll come to you. Just keep trying.”

“Forget it!” he huffs, turning his back on the rest of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As an awkward silence descends upon the room, Pavitr waves to Peter to get his attention and leans in to whisper in his ear. His instruction is met with a grin and a definite nod.

An arm rests on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders as a hand pats him. “Maybe just take a breather,” Peter says softly, as he leans in to kiss him.

Miguel’s eyes widen in panic at the sudden invasion of personal space and to his surprise, he finds himself in his own room in a blink of an eye. He has done it. A yell of elation nearly erupts from his lips, but he sees you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Instead, he hears the other vampires cheer outside.

“Well done,” Peter says as he pats Miguel’s shoulder after he re-emerges from his room. “Don’t worry. No more unsolicited kisses from me; I promise.”

Miguel huffs with a slight smile of disbelief over his achievement. “Thanks,” he says. “Probably for the best,” he looks down at Peter. “Your turn to learn, now.”

Peter pulls his hand away from Miguel. “Me?” he laughs suddenly. “I learned that trick ages ago. Back when MJ nearly caught me doing something I shouldn’t have been.”

Miguel’s smile drops. “What?” he asks as he tilts his head questioningly, almost like a confused dog. “Y-You’ve known how to do it all along?”

A wide grin forms on Peter’s face. “Yep. But making everyone learn it from scratch has got the younger ones busy and focused on something other than being bored hooligans.”

Looking around the shelter, Miguel observes everyone standing and talking; not lounging around lazily on the communal couches. They all look animated, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

A smile spreads across Miguel’s lips as he understands Peter’s logic. “Fair enough. Thanks.”

For peace and quiet, he enters the kitchen and pulls out his phone to take a look at the news. It has now been over twenty-four hours since the news broke out with the video showing you both fleeing and shooting at beastly creatures. His large thumb brushes up his phone’s screen, scrolling for any update until a headline catches his attention.

“Government Officials Claim the Video is Fake.”

Of course the government would say that, but he can’t deny feeling a little more at ease about it. He hopes it will quell any nervousness amongst the citizens of Nueva York.

A soft nuzzling feeling against your neck slowly awakens you. Miguel is back in the bed, being big-spoon and holding you close. The warmth of his bare chest pressing against your back makes you feel safe and relaxed. He sniffs you before leaning his head against yours, letting out a contented sigh.

You raise your hand to cup his face that is next to yours, your fingertips nestling in his silky hair. “Good morning,” you say huskily as your throat tries to wake up from a night of snoring and deep breathing.

Miguel’s body presses against yours again, completely flush as his arms snake around you. “Morning,” he almost coos back, his breath brushing hotly over your ear.

“I didn’t feel you climb into bed,” you reply, your voice sounding a little more clear.

The feeling of his body clinging onto you like a limpet stuck on a rock on a beach makes you smile, if not turning you on slightly. You find it hard to resist pushing your rear back against his naked pelvis to tease him.

“Because I didn’t, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he thrusts his hips forwards slightly like he can read your mind.

It takes you a minute to work it out - mostly because his hips distract you - but finally the penny drops. Suddenly you turn to face him, your eyes wide. “You worked it out?” Your question is met with a small smile, carrying a hint of pride.

“Yes. Helped by an unusual method by Pavitr, but it did the trick.”

You throw your arms around him and roll him onto his back - a position he rather gladly accepts, his large hands resting on your hips. “Well done! I’m so pleased for you,” you say as you smother him with kisses all over his face before his lips catch yours.

Silence descends upon the room, only being broken by the faint sounds of your intimate moment or sweet moans between the two of you. The way his hands move over your body as he gently pushes his hips up against yours, slowly grinding his growing erection along your unclothed entrance.

Your brows furrow as your need for him skyrockets, and you tilt your hips for him to have an easier angle to enter you.

Another moan leaves your lips when you feel the head of his shaft breaching your slicked folds, squeezing past the tight ring.

Just as you’re about to take the plunge and sink down on him completely, the heat of your passion instantly plummets to subzero temperatures when you hear your phone buzz with an incoming call. You hesitate for a moment, your hips stuttering over Miguel, making him groan needily.

“Ignore it,” he grunts as he grabs your hips.

Looking at the screen, you see it’s your boss, making you pull away. “It’s Jameson…” you mumble nervously as you crawl along the bed, leaving an exceedingly horny Miguel behind you. He rolls over to his front on the bed with a groan of indignant protest and proceeds to grind against the mattress to alleviate his building arousal.

“Mr. Jameson?” you answer the call with mounting curiosity as you sit on the side of the bed, the cool air of Miguel’s room embracing you now you’re out from the covers and away from his body.

“Uh, morning, Y/N,” your boss responds, his usual pushy and demanding demeanour now replaced with something similar to nervousness and uncertainty. With the way he sounds, you get a clear image in your mind of him looking rather pale, as if he has seen a ghost.

You’re not sure how you feel about this change. While you’re not fond of his normal behaviour, this new one doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence either.

“Listen; I’m going to have to ask you to step down from writing for the Daily Bugle - just for a little while,” Mr. Jameson begins to explain.

An uncomfortable pounding in your chest starts after he speaks. “What? Why?” The tone of your voice makes Miguel look up at you with concern, forgetting how you just unintentionally blue balled him.

“It’s not my decision exactly-“ he tries to continue but you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“The government has asked me to suspend you for writing your open letter yesterday,” Jameson blurts out at you in response.

Your blood runs cold. The government is involved now? However your blood doesn’t run cold for long as you remember who pushed you to write the now seemingly offensive piece. It now feels like fire burning within your veins as you try to gather the right words to speak. “This… This isn’t fair, you-“

“It’s out of my hands, Y/N.”

“You told me to write it! Did you fail to mention that nugget of information to the government?”

“No- I-“ Jameson splutters.

“Just as I thought,” you snap back.

Only listening to half of the conversation, Miguel can still tell something is wrong, and when you mention the government, he starts to worry. Quickly, he peels his body off of the mattress and shuffles his way over to you to put a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“I know you’re mad-“ Mr. Jameson tries to placate the situation, but you’re now feeling unstoppable.

“Damn right, I’m mad! You played a part in this open letter too, but you don’t face suspension? How convenient,” as you speak, you find yourself surprised that you’re able to do this. You’d never say boo to a goose, but at this moment, you’re ripping into your boss, letting him have a piece of your mind. Confrontation and you don’t usually mix, and it becomes rather apparent as your body starts to shudder. Miguel feels it under his arm, spurring him to wrap it around you tighter, keeping you warm and strengthening your resolve.

Mr. Jameson has always been a bully. You told yourself that he was under pressure from higher-ups to keep his division of the Daily Bugle running like a well-oiled machine to excuse his shitty attitude towards you. But now, you’ve finally had enough of how he makes you feel when you work for him. This is the last straw.

“Watch your tone, Y/N,” Jameson’s demeanour seems to be shifting back to how he usually is with you, only serving to fuel the roaring fire within.

“You know what, Jameson? Fuck you. Fuck you and the Daily Bugle,” with that, you rip your phone away from your ear and jab angrily at the end call button on the screen, making a loud tap.

A wave of cold seems to wash over you again for a moment as the fire dies down inside. But you feel relief as Miguel scoops you up and places you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

There is no need to ask what happened, he understood the gist of it, and hearing you say ‘fuck you’ to your boss and the company you work for pretty much sounds like you’ve just quit. “It’s okay,” he whispers to you as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“Is it?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly with the stress of the confrontation. “I’ve just thrown my job away because of my boss being a monumental d-”

“Oooookay, mi dulzura,” he interjects as he tightens his grip around you. “I know. But you’ll get back up on your feet. I’m sure you will. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you,” his voice is soft and calming as his fingers thread through your hair. Every gentle stroke he gives you soothes the furnace inside.

Eventually, he feels you relax into his embrace, producing a contented smile on his face. He thinks to himself that the cuddle he has you locked in will be so much better for the both of you if you’re ensconced under his covers with him. It’s not like you have work to do today.

Gently, he lifts you back into bed and lays next to you. The warmth of his body mixes in with the duvet that he pulls it over you both.

Miguel’s words echo in your mind as he hides you away from the world. He’s right. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you. You have no idea what you’ll do instead, but at least your sanity will no longer be tested on a daily basis working for a man like Jameson.

You feel so warm in the cocoon that is his arms and his duvet. It’s impossible to hide the smile on your face as you feel him nuzzling and kissing your cheek. And soon, your troubles are temporarily forgotten about as you feel his hand slither its way down your body, the warm pads of his middle and fourth fingers gently running tight circles on your clit.

A gasp escapes your parted lips as his tender stroking re-awakens your core. The heat of mounting arousal spreads throughout your body in pulses with every revolution of his fingers.

Eventually, he feels moisture at the trough of every circular stroke, lubricating his touch, letting his digits slide over your sensitive bud.

You mewl needily for more as your inner walls start to clamp on nothing. Your body, begging to be filled, craving him.

Miguel licks his lips as a thought crosses his mind. “I want to taste you, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, spurring you to obediently tilt your head to one side before you even really think about it properly.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Not there,” he mumbles with a smirk. “Here,” Miguel’s fingers slip down from your clit, making you moan louder as he halts that sweet stimulation and slides inside you. “Damn, you’re so wet. Please, let me have a taste.”

Just the thought of having his head down there between your legs makes your heart flutter. Then you add the feeling that your mind can conjure of his tongue lapping at your entrance and flicking around your clit. On top of that, you imagine his moans as he hopefully enjoys the taste of you. Of course you’re not going to deny him that experience. You nod to give him the go ahead and you’re met with a seductive grin.

“I can’t wait to see if your arousal tastes as sweet as your blood,” he coos as he begins his descent down your body. His plump lips plant tender kisses along the way.

Miguel’s hands grip you under your thighs and open your legs wide for him, revealing such an enticing sight.

In no time at all, his mouth is now lavishing attention to your tender inner-thigh. This sensation alone is enough to drive you wild.

“So soft…” he purrs with delight. “I’d like to try feeding from here sometime…” he murmurs against your supple flesh as his lips travel higher to the tendon between your thigh and your heat. Light and gentle nibbles are felt along it, making you moan and writhe. How can something feel so good but equally unbearable?

Fingers dig into your flesh as Miguel holds your legs apart before you feel the delicate teasing from his tongue flicking and circling around your sensitive bud. He instantly moans as soon as his taste buds register your essence. The vibrations of his appreciation only serve to heighten your arousal.

He pauses momentarily, making you think he’s about to compliment your taste, but he doesn’t waste his time. Diving in completely, his lips and tongue attack your drenched folds before letting out an incredible groan. No compliments necessary. There is fervour behind his actions, acting as though he is a man starved.

Your fingers clench the bed sheets as Miguel continues his onslaught between your legs, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit while moaning. Every time you wriggle and writhe, he fights you to keep you still. “M-Miguel~” you moan urgently as his time on your sensitive bud is starting to feel particularly exquisite.

Knowing that you can feel that tightening in your lower abdomen, he chases your climax down by latching onto your clit and teases it mercilessly. His tongue flicks and swirls around it as he starts to suck, making your back arch and cry out his name again.

To make sure there is no danger of him moving away, you release one of your hands off the bed sheet and grasp the locks of his slicked-back, dark-brown hair. “Yes…” you hiss with pleasure. “Like that, mhmmm…” you encourage him to keep going.

He nods between your legs, only adding to the stimulation, driving you even closer to your release. He can tell you’re approaching the edge, your body’s reaction is indication enough.

Miguel re-captures your swollen bundle of nerves with his lips after flicking it wildly with his tongue and groans deeply into your flesh for his one last bid to push you over the edge.

Your eyes roll to the top of your head, the moment your orgasm hits. A loud moan erupts from your parted lips as your body writhes uncontrollably under the strong influence of your pleasure.

He pushes on, continuing to lavish your throbbing clit with attention through your climax until your mewls turn into high-pitched squeals. And when he can sense that it’s too much for you, he releases you before eating you out once more, coating his tongue in your fresh wave of arousal, languidly lapping between your soaked folds.

“I could eat you out,” Miguel begins before licking at you hungrily again for a few seconds and pulls away once more, “all day, mi dulzura.”

He glances up at you while you pant and look a little dazed from the mind-blowing orgasm he has just put you through. A smirk spreads across his face. “But I need to feel you wrapped tightly around me too,” he crawls up the bed, over the top of you and nestles himself between your legs. “Is that what you want, too? To take me deep inside?”

Once again, the image his words paint in your mind makes you ripple beneath him. Your hips bucking upwards slightly, seeking penetration, searching for the warmth of his hardened length. “Yes, please…” you moan for him as your need to be stretched around his cock increases exponentially.

After two recent nights of intimacy between the both of you, Miguel has already grown accustomed to the sensation of making love with someone again - not like it was ever a problem for you in the first place.

His hand travels down between the both of you to get himself positioned at your entrance. The tip of his member glistens as his pre-cum mixes with your arousal while he teases it up and down between your folds.

Another uncontrollable buck of your hips briefly pushes him in further, making the both of you gasp and moan.

The helping hand now returns to the side of your head before he begins to bury himself inside while he watches you dissolve with pleasure again. His breath dances across your face as he sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

“You feel so damn good, mi dulzura…” Miguel grunts as he draws his hips back again before starting a steady rhythm of thrusts.

Miguel is by far the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel so full with him inside, taking up every inch and stretching your walls around him. Not only does he feel incredible, he also looks good on top of you. His perfectly defined form flexing with every movement, and his stunning face etched in pleasure is just the perfect picture to be looking up at while your head is swimming in a haze.

With every strong pump of his hips, he drags his pelvis against yours, generating lusty moans and groans between the both of you.

You feel the sheet either side of your head crumple as he screws his hands into fists.

While you pant heavily, your left hand rises up to the back of his head, tugging at his hair, while your right caresses from his red spider tattoo on his neck down his chest, abs and finally coming to a rest on the small of his back. You feel how his hips thrust that extra bit further forward at the peak of each pump, making your jaw drop as the sensation gets you closer to losing your mind.

“Mhmmm…” you mewl between heavy breaths. He’s so deep inside you that it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix, making you yelp slightly with a little bit of pain mixing in with your irresistible pleasure.

“You like that, mi dulzura? You like how deep I am inside?” Miguel huffs as he maintains his movements, his heavily-lidded red eyes gaze down upon you. He feels your hand pulling him in more with each thrust, and he adds more emphasis and grins widely when he watches you melt further into his mattress.

Every thrust is attentive and fluid in motion, his rhythm is steady and resolute while his movements drive you closer to a second climax.

“I want to feel you clench on me,” he growls into your ear as he lowers his body closer to yours, turning up the heat between you several notches. “Come undone for me again, mi dulzura.”

His words make you feel like they have control over you, or you just simply enjoy him talking dirty while balls deep inside you. Encouraging you to fall over the edge for him. Every word, every syllable sends tingles around your body and winds an invisible key that tightens your walls, building up your next orgasm.

A triumphant smile spreads across his face as he feels that sensation for himself inside you. He can tell you’re close. Your breathing has become quicker and more shallow. “That’s it,” he pants more heavily, his breath hot against your cheek. “Let go, mi dulzura.”

Your back arches tremendously as your body ignites with pleasure for a second time that morning. The combined noises of your moans and his groans fill the air as you release together. Your low spirits certainly feel lifted after Miguel’s skillful treatment.

The pair of you lay together, still intertwined as the remnants of your shared climaxes slowly ebb away and the afterglow begins.

He kisses you tenderly while keeping you trapped below him. His lips wander slowly around your face until they finally meet yours. After pulling away again, he begins to mumble to you. “You are a smart, intelligent woman. Any new workplace should consider themselves lucky having you. I’m sure you’ll find something soon to replace the Daily Bugle,” his voice is soft as his breath plays across your skin.

You pull him close, letting his head rest on your chest, allowing him that sweet treat of him listening to your heart. He settles against you a little more, but is mindful not to squash you.

Before he falls asleep, he lets you go. Allowing you to get up and enjoy your day. Being trapped underneath a weighty vampire is only fun for a little while. Although, he would love to have you around him all the time as his sweet smelling and tasting human. You nourish him in not only your blood sometimes, but with affection and indulge him with experiences he thought he’d never experience again. To say that he thinks of you as a keeper, is an understatement.

The following evening, the vampires have arisen once again while you, Lyla and MJ wind down before bed time.

In hushed tones, Miguel and Peter speak to one another in a quieter part of the shelter.

“I’m telling you Miguel, I want to be involved in bringing Morbius down-”

“No. It’s too dangerous. It’s my fault he’s still around,” Miguel interjects, desperately trying to close off the subject.

Now armed with the vampire-mist ability, he has a much better chance at catching Morbius off guard and destroying him. He wants it to be swift and as subtle as possible. But first he has to draw up a plan.

Miguel thought it was a good idea to involve Peter with gathering ideas, but now a minor argument is unfolding instead.

“You’re not alone this time, Miguel. Stop acting like you have to be the one to fix this mess. In fact, if I asked everyone here, I bet they’d want a piece of Morbius too-”

“No!” Miguel snaps while maintaining a relatively quiet voice. “Don’t you dare ask them,” he hisses while he fruitlessly reaches out to grab Peter as he steps away.

“Hey guys,” he calls out, gathering everyone’s attention in the communal part of the shelter. “Who’s up for taking Morbius down?” he continues as he receives a heavy nudge from Miguel.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls subtly to Peter.

Silence falls upon the old subway station as everyone looks at the two men. Finally, Hobie stands and straightens his leather jacket, his badges glinting under the light above. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After seeing Hobie go first, Gwen stands with him, her face full of determination. To Miguel’s surprise, he watches the entire collection of vampires stand until Peni makes a move.

“No, absolutely not. You’re just a child. In fact most of you are, technically. I can’t allow this,” Miguel shakes his head and starts to pace the room.

“All of us want a go at taking him down, Miguel,” Peter continues his argument, however he speaks in a more calm tone.

An exasperated huff leaves Miguel’s lips as his shoulders slump, his resolve is weakening. It seems arguing with the entire group is going to be an uphill battle. “Morbius is my responsibility-”

“Says who?” Peter retorts.

“He’s fucked all our lives up, man. We should get a say if we want to take part in makin’ sure he can’t destroy anyone else’s,” Hobie joins in, folding his arms, his expression stern. His response is met with nods of agreement from the other younger vampires.

Feeling the pressure mounting on him, Miguel finally folds. “Fine!” he throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, okay. You guys win.” A large hand runs through his hair as he continues to think. “But we need to find out some things. Firstly, where to find him and secondly, how to lure him out.”

Hobie’s hand goes straight for his jeans pocket to fish out his phone. “I can ask my connection with the cops to give us some access to the CCTV network? See if we can spot him movin’ about the city?”

Miguel rests his hands on his hips, deep in thought. “We could start there. Once we get his rough location, we can work out the rest.”

With a nod, Hobie looks down at his phone and starts tapping away, composing a message to his police contact.

“Lyla, Y/N; I’m going to need you both to investigate the CCTV system during the day. It’ll be safer that way,” Miguel’s command is met with Lyla’s salute and your nod. Now that you don’t have a job to go to anymore, you can dedicate more time to helping your new vampire friends.

A buzzing sound fills the air as Hobie receives a response from his friend. “Got a meeting set up with my contact tomorrow. 10am sound good?”

Both you and Lyla agree to the time of the meeting and you notice Miguel seems to relax a little more. A plan is starting to come together. There is a look of determination in his eyes. A drive to put an end to the beast once and for all.

Since Morbius’s return, Miguel has dreamed of releasing Nueva York from his clutches, and he cannot wait for the red of his foe’s eyes to dim before his body is turned into nothing but ash by his hand.

Thank you for reading part 6 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you are enjoying it so far.

Another 'thank you' this week to my brother who came up with the upside-down kiss suggestion which managed to fit perfectly with a scene I had in mind.

I will be starting part 7 in the coming days. Of course I will release it as soon as I am able.

If you are interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

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#fanfic #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #commisions open #smut #fem reader #female reader #reader x character #readerxmiguelohara #vampiremiguel

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