#i'm gonna add to my RESUME

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

i'm officially TAing this semester starting tomorrow LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

[addcests]

HAPPY TEN YEARS TO THIS BLOG AND JACKET

if you've been here as long as this blog's existence then, know i'm finna yap:

sorry but warning for me and my mental health and my journey here...

smiles i am only human after all <:3 without further ado—

i've put off this post for... many reasons (hoildays, stress, perfectionism, anxiety) but maybe i'll keep this rendition and not chicken out or delete it because it's not perfect?

i really still can't believe i missed the anniversary for this! nov 29th huh? (yes i can actually !!! at the time i had just started a new job and that's where all my willpower has been.) but i fondly remember those ten years ago, that nov 29th is just as close to december anyway. so i always lead myself to think it's dec and not nov! details !!!

i don't think it'd make a difference but i do so want to get this in before the new year... (adding unnecessary stressors to myself smh)

it's been quite a ride through addhell. it's weird... to think how much has happened here. it's insane to think about how this one white hair anime boy changed my live in ways i could never fathom

picture it with me, a no one in a group of friends. with nothing but... the ambition of friendship, and the love of writing to fuel him, and a new username ready to take on the world: mymastermine.

that group of friends holds three: me, my would be DIE, and my would be LP. (does... does anyone remember those days of us three causing chaos laughs - tho mostly two, i suppose) we would make our way into the fandom, make tons of things, meet some people, make things with those people and make friends, lose some people, and grow, grow, grow...

there's just been... so much in ten years. ten years guys !!! that's a lot !!! i was a proud senpai and kouhai all at once! i'd found a really cool sensei. i ran into artists who drew things for me and i wrote for them!

i watched the rise AND fall of void els (raise your hand if you're an oger), in real time watched vMM became a cultural phenomenon (you're lying to yourself if you dont think he was - ykb did something irreversible to the add fandom that day i fear 😂 he's still relevant to this day lmFAO thank ykb for ur service), i watched the top LP/bottom LP debates :/, i'd poked my head into the els tag to see yall fighting but then i'd see some cool things too! i've seen so many cool projects and zines -- hell, got to actually take part in one! (cringe as it was - our writing, not the zine but still proud of doing that !!!)

addcest/hellsword (tumblr) isn't what it use to be though. (hell tumblr itself isn't what it use to be, let's be real LMAO) but... i think that i love that hasn't stopped some of us for cherishing and/or still loving add to this day.

i think if you'd told past me i'd be doing this, writing for one (1) singular anime boy, i wouldn't be surprised - couldn't expect it to go any other way i think

i'm not sure how to feel that ten years later i am still writing for him - it's been quite obvious where i felt it wane (but that was more my life and mental health (was in quite few depressive episodes - still am lmao), and joy - or lack thereof at the times - of writing and placing my joy momentarily elsewhere) but... wow i'm still here? LMAO

but i've met so many amazing people because of him... i've made connections, some not quite lasting, but then... there's always someone else there isn't there?

(i met dez and rain-kouhai for the first time recently! i've met more people for add hell between now and maybe 2-3 years ago! can you imagine that??? people still interacting, still wanting to talk about add - i literally can't! i go on twitter kr/jp and go "wow new add fanart" and feel so lucky !!!)

it's just little joys like this that makes me appreciate such things

i guess what i'm trying to say... thank you add for all the connections i've had and made.

thank you to my original trio

thank you to addhell tumblr... ! (literally would have never known some of yall)

thank you to void els (for gay add marriage lmao but also some more cool friends and mutuals)

thanks discord for hosting gay add ramblings and ao3 for letting me put my gay shit there

thank you - to anyone and everyone who has ever read my work and supported me - friends, mutuals, strangers, anons - and to anyone who's drawn/wrote for or with me! (yes, i think about your comments, your kind words, your support! yes your comment, you!) 😭😭😭 it is the simple act of creating and sharing/encouraging that seriously drives me forward in every word i type... and this alone feels like it's not enough!

but mostly, thank you add, for everything, really

where da hell would this bnuuy be without you?

i was going to... add a more emotional spiel but i think this is good enough, don't nya'll think? :')

"i'm so glad you're still here even after all these past ten years"

you know what? i think i might just be too

thanks for the one whole decade everyone wahoo !!!

-

"they shared a bed together." - jacket, nov 29th 2014

[byanyan]

finally hit the resume button on the queue... even tho there're only 9 things in there and most of them are really short replies. but 5 of them!!! have been in there for over a month!!! and i'm tired of having no writing on my blog akjhfsd

[soggywarmpockets]

Customer: Hi, can I use your restroom?

Me: Uh, how badly do you have to go?

[fuctacles]

The sound of a promise

For @stevieweek Day 6: Queer culture | M | 1997 | Steddie | some gender dysphoria (voice), cat lady stevie universe sequel, transfem Steve, age gap, pre-relationship, spice&fluff Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

!We dive straight into smut but it's not very descriptive!

Steph makes a few aborted sounds in her throat before slapping her hand against her mouth while Eddie pounds into her. Her muffled sounds make him look up and notice that she's silencing herself and his hips still. 

She blinks up at him, confused at his sudden stillness.

"Does it not feel good?" he asks with a slight pout to his lips.

She shakes her head immediately.

"It does," she croaks out before slapping the hand back over her mouth. Eddie frowns.

"Then I want to hear it. Please."

She shakes her head again, but it's small and hesitant this time. She spreads her fingers, not ready to take the hand away, but wanting to be heard.

"I can't control my voice, you know..." She makes a vague gesture to her mouth, her neck, and the vocal cords beneath. "Like this. There's only so much estrogen can do."

Eddie's heart breaks for her. He sits back, most of him slipping out, and caresses her thigh. 

"What do you mean?"

She sighs, but the soft touch on her skin helps her calm down and gather her thoughts. 

"Hormones don't just... change my voice. They kind of help expand my vocal range so that I can hit the higher notes, and sound the way I do every day. But I can still use the lower notes, and sometimes they just... slip out." She winces.

"Stevie." She looks up at him. "Stephanie, Steph." Eddie leans forward again, and she presses her lips together when his dick moves inside her too. "You're a woman, and your voice won't change that, not to me. I want to know I make you feel good. I want to hear it's so good you can forget yourself, and let loose. I want you to trust me that it won't change how I see you."

Despite his words and the blush on her cheeks, she doesn't seem convinced. So he adds, mercilessly:

"Please."

Stephanie nods and lets him take her hand away from her face. He presses his lips to her palm, watching her cheeks redden further.

"Thank you."

Wayne has taught him to be polite and respectful to women but he never knew such simple words would make someone squirm under him like that. It makes him want to bring her flowers and kiss her goodnight, knowing she'll eat it up and turn these beautiful shades of pink and crimson just for him.

He presses her hand to the mattress and resumes his movements. Slow at first, because his dick lost the plot for a second, but as soon as he felt himself get into full hardness again, he braced himself with the intent to bruise.

"Let me hear you," he said, slamming into the woman beneath him. 

She whimpered, at first, and Eddie let her ease into it, observing her slowly part her lips and let the music flow. The breathy little ohs and ahs, the whines that follow, and finally, when he hit the right spot, a choked-off moan.

"Like that," he praised immediately. "Shit, you sound so hot."

And when she looked into his eyes, moaning and whining unashamedly, her self-consciousness gone, Eddie lost it.

He dove down to bite into her mouth and she accepted it happily, sharing her moans, the high ones, and the low ones, directly into him. With her free arm, she grasped his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, and he let go of her other hand so they could wrap around each other, pressing tight until their bones crushed, only their mouths and hips allowed to move freely.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Eddie chanted into the corner of her mouth. "Steph."

"Eddie. I'm gonna—"

It's all the warning he gets before her heels dig into his back to pull him impossibly deeper and she comes. Her blunt nails digging into his skin are the last straw for him. 

"Fuck!" he grits out, spilling into the condom, and his thrusts finally weaken, turning into a shallow sway until he stills, breathing heavily against her neck, where he presses his mouth because not touching her wherever he can right now would be torture. Slowly, as he regains control over his muscles, he starts pressing light kisses there. 

"You were perfect. So beautiful. So hot. And you sound divine."

Despite his body's protests, he pushes himself up, because he needs to look her in the eyes.

"So good I could record you and take you with me to Indy, for the lonely nights."

"Oh my god, stop." She turns her head away, face twisting with embarrassment. But Eddie presses on. 

"Those little moans you make, the ohs," he tries to imitate the breathy sounds she made and watches her cheeks bloom. "The ahs. Perfect. Thank you for letting me hear them."

"Uh, sure," she offers.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

"You sound like you don't believe me."

All she can give him to that is a shrug. So he moves his hips, making her hiss from how sensitive she is, and pulls out from her. He can feel her eyes following as he gets up to dispose of the condom and goes for the door, closed against the four-legged intruders. 

"Towel? Shower?" he asks, but she shakes her head, lifting herself on her hands to point towards the window.

"Just throw me this one. It's going into the laundry anyway."

Eddie grabs the towel, smelling faintly of hair conditioner, off the radiator. Instead of handing it over though, he sits on top of Stephanie's thighs to wipe the cum off her belly himself. 

"Such a gentleman," she comments, with amusement in her tone. 

"Well, I try to treat a lady how she deserves to be treated." He gives her his winning smile, the one he uses to charm his way out of trouble and get an extra cookie at the cafeteria. It must be working, because she finally softens, the lines on her forehead smoothing out as her expression opens up like she's starting to believe his words. 

"You saw my... you know."

"Sure did." Eddie nods with a cheeky grin. "And she's pretty like the rest of you." He grabs her dick to clean thoroughly around it and wipes gently at the tip to make his point. Steph's breath hitches at the way he addresses her genitals. 

"And you heard my voice."

"I hear It all the time," he points out, nudging her knees up to gently wipe the lube from around her rim.

"Yeah, but not like this," she says, lowering her voice on purpose. Her eyes are piercing and testing, and Eddie looks up to meet them.

"I'm a musician, I love a woman with a wide vocal range." He sits up though, his smile wilting. "Do you want to scare me off? Because it's not working, but if you want me to leave, just tell me," he says with a frown. He's been doing his best to be gentle and accommodating. True, he's not dealt with trans people before, but he thought he was doing well. "If I crossed a line somewhere, or did something wrong—"

"No, no, you're good," she cuts him off with a furious shake of her head. "I think I just need a moment."

Eddie gives her a puzzled look. He folds the towel in his hands nervously. 

"Okay. Do you want me to leave, or..."

"No, just come here."

Instead of being shunned out of her flat, he's being pulled down, chest against chest. He quickly gets the memo and straightens his legs until he's laying like a blanket on top of her, arms bent awkwardly to cradle her shoulders, head in the crook of her neck. 

Stephanie tries to be quiet, but eventually, she can't hold back the wet sniffle that alarms Eddie.

"Shit, are you crying?" He tries to look up, but she presses his head back into her neck so he can't move.

"Shut up," she says, but doesn't sound angry. So he settles back down, tries to wrap his arms around her to provide the comfort she clearly needs, and lets her feel whatever she's feeling, fingers gently tracing her skin. 

When he can feel her breath and heartbeat settle down, he asks without looking up:

"Were these good tears?"

She snorts.

"Of course they were, idiot."

He huffs out an amused breath against her neck, making her shoulder jump against the ticklish feeling. 

"I haven't been treated this nice in a long while. It's a lot."

Eddie hums against her skin. He doesn't have the words to help, but he understands the feeling so he hugs her tighter against him.

"I get it," is all he can offer. It's like the first time Wayne had praised him after years of living with his parents. He bawled his eyes out back then, not understanding why. "I'll treat you nice every time, I can't imagine doing it any other way."

Her breath quickens again.

"See?" she asks wetly, almost accusingly. "And now you're promising me more. You can't do that."

"Why not?" Eddie frowns. But he's still not allowed to look up. 

"You go to college. You don't even live here."

"I live here sometimes," he corrects. "And I have a feeling I'll be visiting more often now."

She huffs but doesn't say anything. 

"What? Long distance doesn't work for you?" he half-jokes.

"You make it sound like it's a relationship," she says and Eddie cannot decipher her tone. She sounds accusatory, hurt, and annoyed all at once. 

He finally breaks from her grasp but gives her the comfort of no eye contact. Just settles more comfortably against her collarbone, not crushing her to the bed anymore. He throws his leg and arm over her, wrapping Steph in a comforting touch she so clearly lacks. 

"It could be," he says. 

She doesn't say anything at first, but he senses another scoff on the tip of her tongue.

"Could it?" she counters eventually. Eddie hums.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it?"

"I'm older than you."

This time it's Eddie who scoffs. 

"You're beautiful and funny and have only one too many cats. I think you're fine. And if you have like, a deadly old-lady disease you haven't told me about, that's all the more reason to spend the time you have left being properly fucked and wooed and courted."

"I like how you set the priorities there."

He slaps her hip gently.

"Like you didn't like it."

"I did, I did." She reaches into his hair to gently scratch his scalp. "Can we come back to this?" she asks, but there's an almost pleading tone in her voice. "Next time you visit, we can talk about it."

He doesn't like the idea of waiting until his next break, but if she needs that space, he'll give it to her. 

"Of course."

The signals he's getting are confusing, but he hasn't been told a straightforward 'no' yet, and the hand in his hair is nice and gentle, so he thinks his odds are quite good. He understands the need to think things through even if he's a man of impulsive decisions himself. 

"When do you have to leave?"

Eddie turns to look at the Garfield clock on Steph's bedside table. If he doesn't leave right now, he'll run into traffic outside of the city later. But if he waits a few hours, he'll catch a nice view of the sunset and will be back in his flat shortly after sundown. He doesn't have classes until noon tomorrow anyway. 

"I have enough time for a nap and round two," he decides, looking back at her.

"Perfect." She smiles sweetly, craning her neck down to kiss him. Then she flips them until she's the one cuddling into him, and he positively shudders when he wraps his arms around the soft body pressed against him, cradling her to his chest. 

"Yeah, perfect," he agrees, closing his eyes.

[nexadarling]

There's something about Vash's Tomorrows monolog.... a tiny little detail... that just fucks me up even more.

It's that after "I want to spend my tomorrows with him" he adds

"Right, Wolfwood?"

And I. I do not have the ability to articulate what it is about that that makes it hurt worse. The want for reciprocation or acknowledgement? Maybe even an understanding that Wolfwood would feel the same (cause he does)? The hand he reaches out, metaphorically, silently, where no one can see? The desperation in what he knows is happening, what he knows is coming, and what he wants in a way he never lets himself? Vash doesn't let himself hang around anyone for too long, but with Wolfwood... that's all he wants, all he asks for.

Anyway I'm gonna go curl up in a corner and resume my sobbing thx

[phantomrose96]

Hey not to go all "tumblr is a professional networking site" on you, but how did you get to work for Microsoft??? I'm a recent grad and I'm being eviscerated out here trying to apply for industry jobs & your liveblogging about your job sounds so much less evil than Data Entry IT Job #43461

This place is basically LinkedIn to me.

I'm gonna start by saying I am so so very sorry you're a recent grad in the year 2024... Tech job market is complete ass right now and it is not just you. I started fulltime in 2018, and for 2018-2022 it was completely normal to see a yearly outflow of people hopping to new jobs and a yearly inflow of new hires. Then sometime around late-spring/early-summer of 2022 Wallstreet sneezed the word "recession" and every tech company simultaneously shit themselves.

Tons of layoffs happened, meaning you're competing not just with new grads but with thousands of experienced workers who got shafted by their company. My org squeaked by with a small amount of layoffs (3 people among ~100), but it also means we have not hired anyone new since mid-2022. And where I used to see maybe 4-8 people yearly leave in order to hop to a new job, I think I've seen 1 person do that in the whole last year and a half.

All this to say it's rough and I can't just say "send applications and believe in yourself :)".

I have done interviews though. (I'm not involved in resume screening though, just the interviews of candidates who made it past the screening phase.) So I have at least some relevant advice, as well as second-hand knowledge from other people I know who've had to hop jobs or get hired recently.

If you have friends already in industry who you feel comfortable asking, reach out to them. Most companies have a recommendation process where a current employee fills out a little form that says "yeah I'd recommend such-and-such for this job." These do seem to carry weight, since it's coming from a trusted internal person and isn't just one of the hundreds of cold-call applications they've received.

A lot of tech companies--whether for truly well-intentioned reasons or to just check a checkbox--are on the lookout for increasing employee diversity. If you happen to have anything like, for example, "member of my college Latino society", it's worth including on your resume among your technical skills and technical projects.

I would add "you're probably gonna have to send a lot of applications" as a bullet point but I'm sure you're already doing that. But here it is as a bullet point anyway.

(This is kind of a guess, since it's part of the resume screening) but if you can dedicate some time to getting at least passingly familiar with popular tech/stacks for the positions you're looking into, try doing that in your free time so you can list it on your resume. Even better if you make a project you can point to. Like if you're aiming for webdev, get familiar with React and probably NodeJS. On top of being comfortable in one of the all-purpose languages like C(++) or Java or Python.

If you get to the interview phase - a company that is good to work for WILL care that you're someone who's good to work with. A tech-genius who's a coworker-hating egotistical snob is a nuisance at best and a liability at worst for companies with even a half-decent culture. When I do interviews, "Is this someone who's a good culture fit?" is as important as the technical skills. You'll want to show you'll be a perfectly pleasant, helpful, collaborative coworker. If the company DOESN'T care about that... bullet dodged.

For the technical questions, I care more about the thought process than I do the right answer, especially for entry-level. If you show a capacity for asking good, insightful clarifying questions, an ability to break down the problem, explain your thought process, and backtrack&alter your approach upon realizing something won't work, that's all more important than just being able to spit out a memorized leetcode answer. (I kinda hate leetcode for this reason, and therefore I only ask homebrewed questions, because I don't want the technical portion to hinge at all on whether someone managed to memorize the first 47 pages of leetcode problems). For a new hire, the most important impression you can give me is that you have a technical grasp and that you're capable of learning. Because a new hire isn't going to be an expert in anything, but they're someone who's capable of learning the ropes.

That's everything I have off the top of my head. Good luck anon. I'm very sorry you were born during a specific range of years that made you a new grad in 2024 and I hope it gets better.

[vmlnrzmp4]

minghao sat at his messy desk, gazing at the blank page. he wanted to prove his love for you in an artistic way: on the canvas.

determined, he picks up the pencil to roughly sketch you out. he then reaches for the paintbrush, dipping it into the bowl of water to bring the creation to life.

"tsk," minghao clicked his tongue as he leans back in his chair. the determination he had was still there, but what he lacked was a bit of motivation.

"lost in thought," you observe. he startles slightly at the sound of your voice, turning around to meet your eyes. "what's on your mind, love?" you ask softly.

minghao rises from his seat, his hands gently resting on your shoulders as he turns you around, urging you to leave his study, "why didn't you knock?"

"i did. thrice even, but..."

"oh, i um...i'm sorry,"

"minghao, my love, i already saw what you drew,"

minghao halts, "you did?"

you nod, recalling the art piece you saw a few seconds ago: a semi-realistic art you saw of yourself.

minghao lets you sit beside him as you take the incomplete work of art into your hands, looking at it with awe. "i wanted to surprise you..." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

without questioning, you gesture him to hand you the paint brush. you dip the paintbrush into water and resume working on the piece.

you keep in mind that minghao's usual art style differs significantly. typically leans towards abstract representations, often portraying landscapes, and relishes the emotional dialogue he shares with the canvas while painting.

"i used to think that self-portraits are for narcissists," you say chuckling. you pause, passing the halfway done artwork to minghao, urging him to take over and to add his own personal touch. "make my bottom lip coral pink," you suggest, "and add a touch of shine under my eyes," you stand up, kissing his temple before exiting his station.

minghao takes the canvas from you. with determination and motivation now, he resumes his work on the portrait.

as the artwork comes together, minghao feels proud. looking at what you’ve made together, he knows it’s something special.

and finally, as the artwork finishes, minghao adds his signature.

"love? im done," he enters the bedroom, seeing you doing your makeup. he recalls: you were gonna hangout with your girlfriends this evening. "you look gorgeous, my love," he compliments, kissing the crown of your head, making sure your makeup isn't ruined.

"would you do me the honor of adding your signature?" he asks, his tone prince like. but minghao's request doesn't end there. "could you add a lipstick stain instead," he suggests instead.

"of course," you reply with a smile, taking the painting from him. you press your lips to the corner of the canvas, right below where he had signed.

and then, turning to minghao, you lean in to kiss him, leaving a similar mark on his cheek as you share a moment of playful affection.

[loki-hargreeves]

Smile For the Camera

filming / whipping / abo

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x f!Reader Warnings/Tags: [18+ / MINORS DNI], filming during sex, piv, no plot (it's just nasty), established relationship, overstimulation, creampie, vulgar language Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Nathan wants to film a little something with you for his personal enjoyment A/N: I'm using this kinktober prompt list by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction . Also, it's my first time posting a Nathan fic so I hope it's okay 🎃

"Come on, smile for the camera, honey," Nathan asks, bringing his phone close to your face. It had been discussed previously, so it didn't come as a surprise to you, nor did you mind it. In fact, in your blissed-out state of mind, the idea of him filming you was almost amusing. Another way for you to make him happy by entertaining this fantasy.

"Nathan," You giggle softly and give in, revealing your pearly whites for the lense. There is a comforting heat on your cheeks and chest as you lie there, heart racing and trying to catch your breath after coming on Nathan's cock for the nth time that night. That man is an overachiever in everything he does, including sex which you've come to learn quickly. It's like he's always trying to beat a personal record of either how many times or how fast he can make you come.

"That's right," he caresses your cheek and resumes a slow yet steady pace of burying his dick deep inside. He's on top of you missionary-style so he can see and film your pretty face as he drives you fucking crazy. In this position, his pelvis brushes against your clit which adds to the overwhelming experience. This must be some form of heaven.

As soon as he moves, all thoughts fly out of your brain except for how he's making you feel. After so many orgasms, you're sensitive and you swear you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he moves. Nathan pulls out a little and dives right back in, wanting to hit that sweet spot within you that makes your toes curl.

"Mmmh.." You moan and grab his strong shoulders, needing the support. When you're close like this, the scent of his cologne fills your lungs. Nathan smells amazing, his cologne mixing with the scent of smoke and firewood from being around a firepit earlier. His skin feels warm and soft against yours.

Nathan loves this. He loves how he can bring you to the edge of pleasure and help you come out of that shell. He takes pride in being able to fuck you into a sweet, mindless haze. By now, he knows your mind and body. He has learned how to make you unravel hard and hell, does he enjoy it.

Nathan focuses the camera on your body, wanting to capture the way you squirm against the silk sheets as he barely even moves. Eventually, he reaches toward the nightstand and places the phone down so he can use both hands on you. Now the phone films you from the perfect angle that still shows your face.

"So fucking pretty," Nathan grunts and caresses your cheek. His own pleasure is growing and it's harder to hold back. Especially now as he knows he's gonna get to watch this back later. Maybe he'll show it to you too because he knows your reaction to seeing the video will be priceless. Maybe you'll be flustered but he knows you'll love it. Nathan knows what turns you on deep down even though you might act embarrassed sometimes.

"Oh!" A yelp escapes your kiss-swollen lips as Nathan fucks you harder. He grabs your thigh and pulls you closer to his body, using quite a bit of strength. It's rough and desperate, yet caring all at once. His other arm hooks behind your head so that your face buries into the crook of his neck. His muscular body is like a blanket over yours, caging you between him and the mattress as his hips roll into yours. Now, no matter how much you squirm, you remain underneath him.

"Oh fuck! Nathan!" You cry out in pleasure. His fingers dig into your thigh as he keeps going. The throbbing of his dick reveals that he's close.

"Come on, baby...take it, take my cock," Nathan growls into your ear, his voice deepened by urgency and desire. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo throughout the room and are surely picked up by his phone that's filming it all. That, and the noises your slick pussy makes each time he bucks his hips. Your juices have made a mess of the sheets, there's no doubt about it.

Suddenly, Nathan reaches between your bodies. He looks you in the eye whilst his fingers find your swollen and sensitive clit, making you jump from being overstimulated.

"You've got one more in you," Nathan murmurs and kisses the side of your face. "Cum for the camera, wanna see you... fuck, wanna see you fall apart," He moans as his own high nears him. For the asshole he sometimes can be, he's definitely a giver when it comes to you. Or maybe he just loves the stroke of the ego when he makes you come countless times before letting himself climax. It definitely boosts his own pleasure.

"Nathan! Don't stop... don't stop!" You swear you see stars by now. This orgasm takes you by surprise. Nathan barely has to play with your clit when it all comes crashing down. Your walls clench around his cock tightly and overwhelming pleasure washes over you like a tidal wave. It rips away the last strength you had in the best way possible, turning you into putty in Nathan's hands.

He follows soon after. How could he not? His cock is buried snugly into you, your walls milking him for all its worth. Nathan holds onto you tightly as his pleasure takes over. Hot white ropes fill you up and Nathan allows himself to collapse over you momentarily. He growls in delight as his dick twitches deep inside your welcoming pussy.

"Mm fill me up, baby," You mewl at him and roll your hips beneath him, wanting to prolong his pleasure. Nathan gasps and has to grab your hip to steady himself. He takes a sharp breath and tries to regain his senses. Once he does, he's all smug and cocky again.

"I know you love my cum, honey," Nathan chuckles and takes a few more deep breaths. Then he grabs the phone from the nightstand, wanting to capture this post-orgasmic bliss.

You blow a kiss at the camera playfully while listening to your racing heartbeat. Both of you glisten from sweat that you worked up together but it's oddly comfortable. His phone captures the messy sheets and your lust-blown pupils.

As Nathan brings the phone further down, you feel flustered but it also turns you on in a strange way. He carefully pulls out of you and films the money shot, using his other hand to keep your legs spread. Soon enough, his milky white cum comes out of you. Glistening down your most sensitive parts.

"What do you say, baby?" Nathan asks you with a cocky smile, switching between capturing your face and the creampie on video.

"Thank you," You decide to be a good girl for him. Perhaps, if you weren't fucked to bliss, you would've found the energy to be a brat. It always gets a rise out of him. Not now though, not when all you want is to focus on the pleasure that you're sharing.

"That's my girl," Nathan is proud of you. He films your face and then brings his fingers to your throbbing pussy. He collects the cum with his fingers and then pushes it back inside, ever so slightly.

Your legs instinctively squeeze together, struggling to accept all this satisfaction. Every touch is electric, sending shockwaves everywhere. "Ohh!" That is all you can say as he experiments with your sensitivity, spreading cum over your clit and opening. Getting all your pretty expressions on film.

"That feel good?" Nathan asks softly as he too recovers from his orgasm. In some odd way, this is his way of showing affection as you transition from fucking your brains out to aftercare. Nathan has his own unique ways of showing that he cares. He has a talent for being an asshole and a sweetheart at the same time, which is kind of endearing.

You just nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try not to squirm away from those devilish fingers. The fact that what he's doing is kind of nasty just makes it better. It feels like Nathan is marking you as his own, the possessive man that he is.

Once he's done, Nathan lies back down and kisses your forehead. He makes sure to get one more closeup of that pretty smile. Then he turns the camera to himself, "Guess the system overloaded."

"Jesus Christ-" You laugh and roll your eyes at his joke, pretending to be annoyed, "You're such a nerd."

Nathan scoffs playfully and stops filming. He puts his phone away and allows himself to stay close to you for now. It'll be fun to watch back later. For now, he just wants to hold you and be grateful that you trust him enough to film something so intimate.

"Yeah, but you love me for it."

A/N: I need to rewatch ex machina because Nathan is kinda 👉👈 I hope this wasn't too ooc. I really hope you liked it.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Seven

***Beautiful sketches for this chapter were made by two lovely artists and I'm ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE with them!! Please go and show them some love!! They captured Miguel so BEAUTIFULLY!! You can find them here and here. Thank you so much guys, I'm so in love with them and will always cherish them 🥹❤️ @sunsetdoodler @lauraolar14 ***

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Mr. and Mrs. Morales ask you to do something for them.

Word Count: 11,729 (I'm just gonna shut up about the word count at this point and just say I'm sorry.)

Warnings: Some readers may not recognize some food items mentioned but it's not too important for the plot, however, a brief description is included at the end if you're interested; mention of reader's family and their Christmas days (good memories); Miguel (I won't elaborate)

Music inspo while writing: (I'm obsessed with the ATSV album so much that Metro Boomin has been my #1 artist on Spotify for months lmao)

"Link Up" - Metro Boomin, Don Toliver, Wizkid, BEAM, Toian

"Self Love" - Metro Boomin, Coi Leray

"Hummingbird" - Metro Boomin, James Blake

"Calling" - Metro Boomin, Swae Lee, NAV, A Boogie Wit da Hoodie

"Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage (you already know)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine |

Part Seven

You returned to your apartment after Miguel showed you his ofrenda. You didn’t sleep. The candy and coffee Miguel gave you kept you up and so you resumed your chores, but your mind was elsewhere. It was occupied. By Miguel, who smiled at you that night. You couldn’t and won’t forget the sight of it. It’s branded into your brain forever. Even when you eventually found yourself in bed under your warm sheets that night, you laid there and stared at the ceiling.

He smiled at you. It was small but it was a smile. He showed you his ofrenda and shared food with you. You tossed and turned that night thinking that maybe… it was safe to assume you’re friends with Miguel. You couldn’t help but wonder if he thought the same about you though. You eventually decided that either way, you’re happy he has shared those moments with you.

There was a shift between the two of you, of course. It was like a door opened. A door that Miguel himself unlocked and opened for you to walk through. And he had in a sense, as that night he wished, for the first time, that you would cross his boundary lines by asking questions and sharing your thoughts with him.

As the days go on, you continue to spend time with him on missions, before meetings, and of course, when you organize his lab. You notice Lyla starts to involve him more in conversations when you’re there. He surprisingly adds to the conversation sometimes. He still doesn’t want to intrude, especially when he knows Lyla loves talking to you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t pay more attention now though.

You’re also surprised when the following week after Dia de los Muertos, Lyla offers you snacks, mentioning that Miguel keeps candy in a hidden cabinet. He adds that you’re welcome to grab any. You don’t fail to notice that the cabinet contains the candy from that night, specifically the ones you enjoyed the most. What you don’t know is that no one else was informed about this candy cabinet.

The holidays quickly arrive. You spend Thanksgiving Day at Peter’s universe with Mary Jane, Mayday, and the rest of your friend group. For the first time in three years, you celebrate and feel the holiday spirit. With each passing day, you feel lighter. That feeling of moving forward grows each day.

As the days go by, the beautiful colors of autumn begin to fade. The leaves part ways with the trees with the promise that new ones will sprout in the spring. The days and nights are colder. The city is covered in snow. Christmas trees are displayed behind condensed windows. Lively Christmas music fills your ears almost everywhere you go when you go out on errands.

As always, the month of December flies by and suddenly you find yourself on Miles’s rooftop surrounded by his neighbors, friends, and family. It’s Christmas Eve and the building is having its annual party, to which you were invited by the Morales family.

You met Miles’s parents a few months ago, almost immediately after joining the Spider Society. According to Miles, he revealed his secret to them shortly after saving his dad from dying. The Morales not only know about Miles’s Spider-Man identity but also about the multiverse now. Due to that, Miles was able to introduce his friends to his parents, so they know everyone in Miles’s friend group. Once you were adopted by the group, you were no exception. You were introduced right away, and Miles’s parents took a liking to you quickly, which is how you found yourself invited to this party and other events in the past, including simple family dinners.

You’ve been here for over two hours now and have spent much of that time socializing both with your friends and Miles’s neighbors, who all seem curious about you and the rest of the group. You smile as you think of the many times you’ve had to say that you’re Miles’s mentor from school each time someone asks who you are. Of course, attending the party meant that all of you had to come up with excuses to avoid raising suspicions. Gwen is Miles’s girlfriend, but she lives outside of the city. Pav is a friend from school and you’re a school mentor. At least you guys had it simple and didn’t have to be as creative as Noir, who has spent much of his time up in the water tower hiding for obvious reasons with Peter Porker.

You lean over the rooftop’s parapet on your own in a less crowded section, trying to take a little break from so much socializing. You stare out at Miles’s neighborhood, listening to the music the DJ, who you were also introduced to, plays. He’s been playing some Christmas music here and there, mixed with other upbeat songs for the party. You hear the chatter and laughter. Children run in groups, excited about opening gifts soon. The city is covered in snow, and you heard from one of Miles’s aunts that a white Christmas is expected. You snuggle into your coat as you feel a breeze, thinking.

You can’t help but think about Peter. In a few months it’ll be four years since his death. You sigh. Time has really flown by. As your eyes scan the city, landing on other rooftops with people celebrating, you think about the first holidays without him. There were no decorations put out. No food was cooked. No parties or dinners were held or attended. You woke up on Christmas Day like it was any other day as you had already ended your previous friendships. There was no Peter waking you up with a grin telling you breakfast was ready, using that as an excuse to get you to go to the living room so you could start opening his gifts.  

On New Years, you slept through it as the rest of the city celebrated the arrival of another year. For you, it was just the beginning of the first full year without Peter.

With each year, you’ve slowly put some decorations here and there but until this year, you hadn’t put your Christmas tree up. You smile as you think of it now. You managed to do that this year. Yet another sign you’re moving in the right direction. And of course, being here now, that’s a sign of its own.

Even though you need a break from socializing, you look fondly over at your friends. The people that have turned into your little family. Yes, things have changed. Things are changing.

You have them, the Morales family, Jess… Miguel.

Your mind shifts to Miguel. You wonder what he’s doing now. What he did today. You saw him yesterday in passing as you were busy with missions that he wasn’t on. Then, there was an emergency at your universe just as there was an anomaly detected somewhere else, which he and other members handled. You meant to wish him happy holidays as he gave the Spider Society members today and tomorrow off but unfortunately you were unable to.

You feel your fingers graze your wrist, the one with your gizmo. You could send him a message, but you find the thought strange for some reason as you’ve never done that before. Maybe it would be weird, you think, but should you send Miguel a message and wish him a Merry Christmas regardless? You debate it as you look out into the city, your fingers grazing your wrist softly as you think of him.  

“Y/N!”

You turn in surprise, feeling like you were caught doing something wrong. You drop your hand from your wrist and regain your composure as your eyes fall on Mr. and Mrs. Morales, who stand in front of you. They both look pleased to see you. You notice Mrs. Morales is holding two plates wrapped in aluminum foil while Captain Morales holds two cans of soda, but you don’t think much about it.

“Mrs. Morales, Captain Morales, hey,” you say with a smile, still feeling startled.

“Sorry if we scared you, mija,” Mrs. Morales says. That’s another thing. Even though the Morales aren’t that much older than you, Mrs. Morales uses the endearing “mija” and each time she uses it, you can’t help but feel comforted by this.

You smile and shake your head. “It’s okay. I was just – thinking.”

The couple nods, giving you a knowing look. “We know holidays can be difficult with loved ones gone,” Mrs. Morales says in a tender and understanding tone as they both know about Peter and your overall lack of family and friends in your universe.

You nod and keep your smile, knowing very well that you weren’t thinking of Peter just now but of Miguel. You feel a little guilty, but you were thinking about Peter earlier, so it counts, right?

“Yes… the last couple of years haven’t been easy but I’m in a different headspace now,” you say with a pause, meaning it. “Thank you for inviting me again, by the way. I know I’ve already said it, but it means a lot to me,” you tell them.

“No need to thank us again. You know you’re like family. We’re just glad you’re here tonight with all of them,” Captain Morales says, referring to your group of friends.

You smile brightly at the couple now. You tell them you’re thankful to be there and mean it. You had no other plans in your own universe, so that means you would’ve been home alone despite feeling the Christmas spirit this year. The Morales couple pulls you in for a hug after you tell them that and you can’t refuse it, as they’ve been nothing but kind to you over the last months.

“And don’t forget, you’re always welcome to come over for dinner. So, if you ever feel alone – just use your watch and come join us,” Mrs. Morales adds with a smile that brings you comfort. Again, they’re not that much older than you but their parental energy brings you a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time.

You give them a soft smile. “I know, thank you. I appreciate it, truly. It means so much to me,” you say with your tone full of sincerity, hoping that they understand how much it truly means to you.

“No need to thank us. As Jeff said, you’re part of the family now,” Mrs. Morales says, patting your shoulder in a motherly way. “We were also looking for you to ask for a favor.”

Captain Morales nods and you wonder what it could be. You wonder if it has to do with Miles.

“Yeah, of course! How may I help?” you ask, curiously.

Mrs. Morales lifts the plates and Captain Morales lifts the cans of soda. “Well… Miles and Gwen mentioned a little while ago that you and Miguel are close.”

“And we were wondering if you would mind taking him some food to his fancy tech universe,” Captain Morales adds as they both watch you with smiles, hoping you’ll say yes.

You stare at them with a smile as you process their words. Close. You and Miguel are close. And Miles and Gwen said that? Of course, Miguel and you have grown close, but it has been something behind closed doors. You can’t help but wonder how Miles and Gwen reached that conclusion. It’s not like you and Miguel are strolling into the cafeteria together to have lunch. All your interactions have been private so far, minus the meetings of course, but even then, those can’t be enough to show the closeness between you and Miguel. You briefly wonder if the rest of your friend group talk about it if Gwen and Miles found it important enough to mention. Or maybe it’s not that important, who knows with teenagers.

And on top of that, you can’t help but feel like Mrs. Morales emphasized the word “close.” It almost makes it sound like you’re close in a different way.

“Yeah, I guess you can say we’re kind of friends,” you say, trying to clear up any misconception they may have. You briefly look at your friends, who are still under the water tower all grouped together, wondering what they’ve seen or heard.

“Right. Friends! That’s great. You know Miguel could really use some friends because Miles says he’s still a little close off even after what happened, you know,” Captain Morales says a little too fast, giving his wife a look she returns. It’s a look you can’t decipher as they quickly mask it, but you know an entire conversation took place with that shared look.

“Well, you know that man is so closed off. Anyone who says they’re friends with him should be considered close. That’s what Miles and Gwen meant,” Mrs. Morales says with a smile, probably trying to reassure you about what they said. “But do you mind? We invited him but he didn’t show up and it’s Christmas Eve,” Mrs. Morales says with a look that you recognize. Miguel is most likely alone on Christmas Eve.

You nod softly, still smiling. “I’ll gladly take the food,” you reply.

Miles’s parents beam at you before they hand you the plates and soda cans.

“Thank you, mija!” Mrs. Morales says. “If you don’t mind… staying with him for a little while. At least while he eats,” she says quieter, and you nod.

“I was planning on it,” you answer, giving her a reassuring smile because you thought about it the moment they explained their request.

“I knew you would. And hey, if he wants more, just travel back with your fancy watch and get more. Oh, before I forget!” she says and turns around.

She heads to a table and from a large box pulls out two goody bags.

“Here. One for you and for him. Take them before the kids take them all,” she says, jokingly. You slip the soda cans into your coat’s pockets to receive the goody bags, which you also slip into your pockets. “Tell him the Morales family wishes him a Merry Christmas for us,” she says just as Captain Morales puts his arm around her, pulling her closer.

You nod and give them both a smile. “I’ll let him know. I’ll head out now, that way the food doesn’t get too cold,” you say as you can feel the food was freshly served out of their containers since the plates feel hot. “If they ask about me, let them know I’ll be back shortly, please,” you say, motioning to your friends.

“We’ll tell them! Thank you again. We’ll see you in a bit,” Captain Morales adds.

You tell them goodbye and thank them again for the invitation. You make your way down the fire escape stairs, careful not to slip on ice until you reach the ground. You walk for a bit, looking for a place to open your portal discreetly. As you look around, you have a sudden thought. Is Miguel at HQ? He gave today and tomorrow off but did he also take the day off? Or is he still there? You click on your gizmo.

“Lyla?” you say, in an empty alleyway.

It takes a few seconds before Lyla’s hologram appears above your gizmo.

“Y/N! Merry Christmas Eve.”

You smile at her. “Merry Christmas Eve, Lyla. Sorry to interrupt you but I was wondering. Is… Miguel at HQ?” you ask, and Lyla raises her eyebrows.

“No. He’s at his penthouse.”

Lyla’s answer makes you feel relieved. You had a picture in your mind of him in his lab alone. The vision alone made your heart ache.

“That’s good! Do you think you can ask him to meet me there? At HQ?” you ask.

Lyla frowns. “I don’t think so. He’s – busy,” she simply says.

“Oh. Well, the Morales family are sending him food and they asked me to take it to him,” you say, not knowing what to do now.

“Just go to his penthouse.”

You stare at Lyla in disbelief at her suggestion that you should go to his penthouse, feeling like that would be an intrusion on his personal space. You know he’s been to your apartment a few times, three to be exact, but you don’t mind. Miguel on the other hand, might not be too thrilled about you visiting his place.

“Can’t you just ask him to meet me there?” you ask softly.

“He’s busy. He can’t leave his penthouse. Look, I’ll just tell him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be fine with you showing up,” Lyla says, shrugging like this is no big deal.

You sigh. “I don’t think that’s - ” you start but get interrupted.

“I’m going to ask him right now. If I send you the coordinates to his penthouse, then you know you’re good to go, okay? Merry Christmas!” Lyla says, cheerfully throwing her arms in the air.

“Lyla!” you manage to say before her hologram disappears. You sigh again and stare at the buildings in front of you. Great.

Not even thirty seconds later, your gizmo shows a new notification. You bring your gizmo closer to your face.

Coordinates.

You stare at the buildings again. The food is going to grow cold if you continue to stand here but you can’t help but feel nervous suddenly. You sigh and try to shake it off. It’s fine. Lyla sent the coordinates, which means he’s okay with it. Right? Or did he feel pressured to let you show up? Your mind starts wandering. What if Lyla made it seem like you wanted to go straight to his penthouse and not meet up somewhere less personal, like HQ? Lyla may have done that, especially because she looked like she was in a rush, which makes you wonder why she was even in a rush. It’s Christmas Eve! You release a shaky breath and try to pull it together. It’s no big deal. You’ll apologize right away and explain that you wanted to meet in HQ instead. You nod, reassuring yourself and try to calm your nerves. You look around, making sure that there’s no one around. You click on your gizmo and follow the procedure to open a portal in a specific location within a dimension.

The portal opens, lighting up the alleyway. You take a deep breath before you enter it, leaving Miles’s universe behind and stepping into Nueva York. Or rather, into a living room.

For the first time, you’re the one that stares into an unknown living room. In the span of a few seconds, you take in the sight before you. Your vision is immediately met with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city and you notice the closest building to Miguel’s building is far away, granting him privacy. Your eyes take in the living room section of his penthouse, or at least what you can see now. It’s all very sleek and modern. Very Nueva York. In front of you there’s a square table with different remotes and tablets floating above it thanks to the portal, far more advanced than those in your universe. There’s also a grey couch facing you and a few feet from it, you spot stairs to its left, leading to the second floor of the penthouse. To your right, you feel heat coming from a fireplace.

For once, Miguel is the one watching a portal fade away in his penthouse. He hears the items fall back into place as he stares at your back.

“Y/N.”

You turn around slowly, feeling Miguel’s gaze. You find him a few feet behind you, behind another grey couch you were unaware was there until now. The kitchen and dining areas of his penthouse are behind him. Everything looks like you’d imagine on Earth-928 with an advanced society. You meet Miguel’s eyes as he stands there. In normal clothes.

Miguel is in normal clothes.

“Miguel, hey,” you finally say, feeling odd. You wonder if this is what Miguel felt when he showed up at your apartment on Peter’s birthday.

“Hey,” Miguel replies looking down at you before his eyes flicker to the plates in your hands.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” you say, giving him a smile. You can’t help but feel awkward.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Miguel repeats softly, his eyes meeting yours again.

You stand there for a few seconds, staring at each other until you finally speak.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you. I asked Lyla if you could meet me at HQ and she said you were busy,” you explain, wanting to clear the air, still feeling shocked that Miguel is in normal clothes.

Miguel nods, pushing his hands into his pants’ pockets. You continue to hold his gaze as the image of him in normal clothes burns into your mind.

Miguel’s hair looks damp, as if he barely got out of the shower but it’s styled as always with curls framing some of his face. Instead of his suit, Miguel wears a dark grey, chunky cable knit sweater. The sleeves are pushed up his arms slightly, just enough that his wrists are visible. You notice he’s not wearing his gizmo, which is a strange sight on its own. To pair his dark grey sweater, Miguel wears black pants. You can’t help but think he looks so – cozy.

“She told me, but I couldn’t leave,” Miguel says, still watching you. He notices the way you’re trying very hard not to look at his clothes. He can’t blame you. In a few months, it’ll be a year since you joined the Spider Society and you’ve never seen him in anything else. “I was showering and I’m cooking,” he says quietly, and you nod.

“Oh. That’s nice,” you say, feeling happiness that Miguel is at home on Christmas Eve instead of at HQ working, on top of the fact that he’s in cozy clothes and cooking. You nod and then remember the whole reason you are here. You internally scold yourself for getting so distracted with being at his home and the sight of him in normal clothes. “Well, the reason I was trying to reach you was for this. The Morales family sent you food,” you say, lifting the plates higher. You can feel that the plates are still hot, thankfully.

Miguel looks a little surprised, but he nods. “Miles invited me to that, but I couldn’t go,” he admits, and you understand. You know that Peter and Mary Jane have been inviting him to their Friday dinners even before you were recruited into the Spider Society, but Miguel has never attended them.

“They noticed and wanted to send you some food. They wished you a Merry Christmas,” you say softly.

Miguel nods and he’s about to speak when a timer goes off behind him.  

“Mierda, let me check the food. Just – follow me, please,” he says, motioning for you to follow him as he starts walking to the kitchen area of his penthouse.

You stand there for a few seconds before you start following him. You watch as Miguel goes around a long kitchen island, heading straight for a stove and for the first time you notice there’s pots and pans on it. The scent of food suddenly envelops you as Miguel quickly and efficiently checks one of the pots. He grabs the designated spoon for it and stirs its contents with his back to you.

You look around a little bit, thinking how his kitchen island is longer than your kitchen itself. You also notice it’s all very clean and organized, which you expected from Miguel.

Miguel turns off the burner before he puts the spoon away. He turns around to face you, finding you standing on the other side of his kitchen island, still holding the plates.

“Let me take that from you,” Miguel says walking around the island to retrieve the plates.

You hand them to him gently, sharing the feeling of your fingers brushing past each other’s. You offer him a smile as you take a step back.

“Oh,” you say remembering. “They also sent these,” you continue, pulling out the soda cans and one of the goody bags from your coat.

You set them on the island just as he sets the plates down, too. He looks at the cans and grabs one, looking at it.

“Thank you for bringing it to me. You didn’t have to,” he says as he places the can back on the counter.

You shrug. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Morales asked me, and I couldn’t say no to them. Besides…” you start as he looks down at you. “I realized I didn’t wish you happy holidays yesterday.”

Miguel nods, staring down at you. “It was a busy day. It always happens right before Christmas,” he says with an amused tone but he, too, thought about that earlier. About how he hadn’t seen you much yesterday with the two of you being preoccupied with your own things. He also thought about sending you a message earlier, but he thought you might be busy and besides, neither of you have ever sent messages to each other. He thought you might have found it – odd. “But – yes. We didn’t get to wish each other happy holidays,” he says softly, thinking how both of you thought about it.

You give him a small smile as you hear his last statement. You shift in your coat, feeling a little hot suddenly in Miguel’s warm apartment. Your clothes were perfect for the party out on the rooftop but too hot to be inside. Miguel notices.

“Here, I can help you out of your coat. The party is on the rooftop, right?” he asks as he steps closer.

“Yes, it’s on the rooftop,” you reply as you slide out of your coat with his help. You watch as he drapes it, carefully, over one of the kitchen island chairs.

You fix your clothes slightly, feeling less hot now that you have one layer off. “That’s much better,” you comment, chuckling a bit. “I had to bundle up. It was freezing out there.”

Miguel stares at your outfit, noticing you’re in cozy and festive clothes but noting they are definitely too much to be inside. “I can imagine. The chilly breeze feels like it bites the skin,” he says looking out his windows. “It’s supposed to snow, too.”

“I have that forecast, too,” you reply, joining him in staring out the windows from afar. “Anyway, you should try the food. It’s amazing,” you say, remembering the food.

Miguel turns to the plates. “I have no doubt. So… they chose you to bring the food?” he asks as he slowly takes the aluminum foil off one of the plates.

Your conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Morales flashes back to your mind. They asked you because they think you’re close to Miguel.

“Yes,” you answer simply, hoping he won’t ask why you and not someone else, since he must know that Miles invited the rest of the group, meaning another colleague could’ve brought him food.

Miguel nods as he inspects the food, looking pleased, which makes you smile. “I see,” he says, his eyes leaving the plate to meet yours. He gives you a look that makes you feel like he knows you were chosen to do this specifically out of everyone else before he returns his attention to the plate.

You freeze for a few seconds. Did your face reveal something? You clear your throat and rest your hands over a chair.

“It’s – a great party. Everyone is in a good mood,” you comment.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says softly as he looks down at the food. “I’m glad they’re enjoying their holidays.”

You nod, noticing the sincerity of his words. He looks up suddenly from the plate as an idea pops into his mind.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks, and you nod.

“I ate a few hours ago,” you say, thankful that your stomach is not embarrassing you once again in front of him. He nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “But I’ll probably eat something else when I get back,” you add before you even realize it.

Miguel meets your eyes. “This food looks and smells amazing. Please give my thanks to the Morales family when you get back,” he says, pausing. “And – I was going to ask. If you don’t have to return right away, would you like to… join me for dinner? I made too much, and I don’t think I’ll finish it all on my own,” he says quickly.

Miguel looks down at you, feeling nervous about asking you but unable to stop himself from hoping you’ll say yes, even if it’s just for a little while.

You meet his eyes feeling a little surprised, though you hide it well before you nod.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you say with a smile. You remember that Mr. and Mrs. Morales did ask you to stay with him while he ate. However, you don’t bring it up. It might lead him to believe that you’re only staying because they asked you and it would force you to admit that you were planning to regardless of their request.

Miguel’s brief disappointment fades and is replaced with a lighter expression.

“I made a few dishes, so you have options,” he says softly. “Let me show you.”

With that, Miguel motions for you to follow him to the stove. You do so, curious to know what he cooked. You have the brief thought that this will be the second time Miguel gives you homemade food. The two of you stand in front of his stove and before Miguel shows you the food, he pushes his sleeves higher up. It’s still a strange sight and you can’t stop your eyes from gazing at his skin, noticing the veins from years of physical activity and arm hair. You turn away as you feel heat on your face from proximity to the stove and how warm Miguel’s penthouse is. No other reason.

“In this pot, there’s pozole,” Miguel says, lifting the lid to show you. He tells you what it is before he moves on to the other dishes.

It turns out that Miguel did cook quite a bit of food. He mentions pozole, tamales of two kinds, and tinga. He also made atole blanco and ponche navideño, two hot drinks perfect for the Christmas season. “If I’m being honest, I was craving all of these foods,” Miguel says as if he knows you’re thinking about how much food he cooked. You chuckle.

“Everything smells amazing, so I don’t blame you for craving them all,” you reply as you bring the spoon with pozole to your mouth. The warmness of it spreads down your chest as the two of you sit on the kitchen island, side by side.

Neither of you notice how your bodies are facing each other as you eat.

Miguel takes a bite out of the food Mr. and Mrs. Morales sent him and you notice he looks like he’s enjoying it. You eat more of your pozole and think how well of a cook he is. You remember him mentioning his mom taught him to cook when he was a teenager back when he showed up at your apartment for the first time. Conchata definitely taught him well.

You finish eating your small serving of pozole as you want to try the other food he made. He notices and looks at you.

“Do you want more pozole? Or would you like to try the other food?” he asks softly, cleaning his mouth gently with a napkin.

You smile at him and nod. “I’d like to try the other food if you don’t mind,” you say, and he nods before he stands up.

“I can get it myself, don’t worry,” you say and start getting up, but he raises a hand, making you pause.

“You’re my guest. It’s only right,” he says with a determined look. “What would you like to try next?” Miguel asks as he walks to the stove. He grabs a clean plate and turns to face you, ready for you to tell him.

You sit back down slowly as he stares at you.

“May I please try the tinga?” you ask with a soft but embarrassed smile.

“Would you like it with tostadas or as a burrito?” he asks, motioning to the pack of tostadas and flour tortillas on the counter.

“I’ll have it however you prefer it,” you answer honestly.

“What if I make you one of each? That way you can try both,” Miguel suggests.

You nod. “Okay, that sounds… good. Thank you,” you reply, and he nods before he grabs both packs and starts working on your plate.

You look down at your gizmo as he preps your food. It’s almost ten now. You look up again. Miguel is busy warming up flour tortillas. You notice him flipping them with his bare hands, not minding the heat. You look around the penthouse. It really is a large place.

Miguel flips the tortillas and turns back to look at you. He notices you looking around and he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious in that moment. Fragments of your apartment flash in his mind. Yours is well decorated. It feels welcoming and warm. It’s lived in. It’s a home for you. His penthouse, on the other hand, seems the opposite of it. Even when he used to actively live in it, he didn’t focus a lot on decorating and because of that, Gabriel and his mom took the initiative to do something about it.

The fact that Gabriel and his mom helped decorate it was one reason why he hadn’t bothered to change it in the last years. Another reason it remained the same was that it didn’t matter to him as he hardly spent time here after everything that happened with Gabriella and her universe anyway.

Until recently, of course. Ever since Peter’s birthday celebration, ever since that night, Miguel made it a goal to sleep here at least once a week. So far, he has stuck with it. It’s now been several weeks, which he counts as progress. And now, as he sees you take in his home, he can’t help but think about it. However, when your eyes meet his again, he sees no judgment from you. If anything, he sees curiosity, which amuses him on the inside. You offer him a small smile.

“Everything is so sleek and modern,” you say as you take in the kitchen again.

Miguel turns around to check on the tortillas, and seeing that they are done, he puts them on a plate. “Is that… not to your liking?” he asks as he starts fixing the food.

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s great,” you say still looking around.

“But?”

You sigh softly and Miguel turns around, walking the short distance from the stove to the kitchen island.

“You can say it,” he says as he finishes fixing the plates.

“I guess, I like old architecture more,” you finally admit. “But this is really nice though,” you add, and Miguel lets out a low chuckle that makes you pause and wonder what a real laugh from him would sound like.

“I like old architecture, too,” he reveals as he finishes fixing your plate. He slides it over the counter to you gently. “It has more personality.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take the plate. “And really? I thought you’d be more of a fan for your architecture.”

Miguel nods and offers you toppings for the food before he takes his own plate and sits next to you again. As you eat, the two of you talk briefly about the architecture of different universes you’ve been to. Turns out Miguel appreciates architecture like that of your universe. You eventually fall into a comfortable silence.

The two of you sit on Miguel’s kitchen island eating quietly in peace on Christmas Eve. It’s strange how comfortable it feels but then again, this is the second time you’ve eaten together since Dia de los Muertos. Still, this moment is a big deal. It’s the first time either of you have celebrated this holiday in years but it feels right.

As Miguel eats next to you, he can’t help but think about it. He really asked you to stay for dinner. That’s a first but he couldn’t stop himself once he thought about it. And he isn’t going to lie – he’s enjoying your company. He’s enjoying sharing the food he grew up eating during the holidays with you. His mind briefly turns to his family again. To his mother and Gabriel and the last holidays he was able to spend with them.

As he thinks about his own past holidays, Miguel wonders what yours were like. He wonders about your childhood and your parents. He wonders about the holidays you spent with Peter. As he takes a drink from one of the soda cans sent to him, he looks over at you. The two of you have been eating in silence, enjoying each other’s company, or at least he hopes you are like he is. He begins to wonder if he’s kept you here unwillingly. He feels embarrassment, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Maybe you had other plans, and here he is, keeping you from them. Embarrassment runs through his body as he looks at you but then, you look up from your plate and you smile at him in a way that makes his worry and embarrassment melt away.

“This is officially the best food I’ve ever had,” you say as you finish eating. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you for the recipe.”

Miguel gives you a subtle smile, and despite how small it is, it still catches you by surprise, though you are better at hiding it now. “I can give it you, that’s no problem,” he says putting his drink down. “Or I can cook it for you if you prefer,” he adds, making him freeze internally. He hasn’t offered to cook for anyone in a while. Sure, he cooked that day at your apartment when you were unwell because of your period but this is different. Or it feels different for some reason Miguel can’t explain.

You nod and smile. “Either way, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says softly before standing up.

Miguel begins putting away the dishes and even though you try helping him, he declines your help because he’s the “host.” So, you sit on your chair and watch as he cleans up, wishing he’d allow you to help but you know he’ll decline again. You finish your drink, the other soda can you brought, and watch as Miguel finishes up. Despite knowing that Miguel knows his way around a kitchen, you’re still somewhat in awe at how fast and efficient he is at cleaning up. You can’t help but think of Peter in that moment. He, too, knew his way around the kitchen and helped with the chores around the apartment, which was something you loved and appreciated about him as you often heard female colleagues complain about their partners not helping when you used to work. You’ve always appreciated it when a man knows how to do chores and helps instead of leaving the chores strictly to the woman, and so you can’t help but think about this as you watch Miguel.

You pull your sweater’s neck slightly, feeling a little hot. Miguel’s penthouse is warm and you’re still wearing two layers of clothes. As Miguel finishes up, you slide off the sweater you have, leaving you in a long-sleeved top. You fold it neatly and place it on the next chair from which your coat hangs. If you head back to the party, you’ll just suit up again but for now, you’ll try to cool off.

Miguel turns around then and looks at you, leaning back on the counter as he holds a towel. He dries his hands with it after washing them. He notices your sweater is gone and feels a little amused. You were definitely wearing too many layers to be inside in the warmth.

“I don’t know if you’re still up for it, but I have those two hot drinks,” he says, flinging the towel over his shoulder in a graceful way.

Of course, you notice it. It’s not every day that Miguel O’Hara wears normal clothes or that he looks this relaxed, leaning back on a kitchen counter and swinging a towel over his shoulder gracefully. It’s a sight for you and you alone.

“Well… Miles and Gwen mentioned a little while ago that you and Miguel are close.”

You hear Mrs. Morales’s comment in your head as you nod at Miguel. “I’m up for it,” you reply, and he nods. There’s a pleased look on his face before he turns around to open a cabinet to retrieve mugs.

And he is. Miguel is pleased that you’re open to trying out the hot drinks. That you’ll stay a little longer. As he pours the drinks, he thinks about what this means. Of course, he’s thought about how much he’s shared with you and how much you’ve shared with him. He’s thought about it… about how you’re the closest he has to a friend.

You are his friend.

He thought about it on Dia de los Muertos night when he came to his penthouse to sleep. Anyone could argue that Jess and Peter were friends but his friendship with them has always been different. It wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for work, or at least he feels like that. They’re work friends and he’s never shared as much as he’s shared with you. No matter how much the two of them tried, Miguel never felt comfortable enough to share his life.

And with you, there he was. Showing up at your apartment to show you his ofrenda. His memories poured out of him like they had been waiting for the right person to spill out for. It was easy to talk to you. It was different.

Miguel felt like he had a friend for once in many, many years that night. And he didn’t know that night, or even now, if you feel the same. He knows you have your group of friends, the ones that quickly adopted you into their group when you were recruited. The same ones he was keeping you away from right now, but he hopes that you see him as somewhat of a friend despite being your boss.

Miguel finishes preparing the drinks. He takes two mugs to you, one with atole blanco and the other with ponche navideño. He slides them gently over the counter to avoid spilling any before he turns around to retrieve his own mugs.He walks around the counter and takes a seat next to you as you thank him again, this time for the hot drinks.

Miguel nods at you as he picks up one of the mugs. “I hope you like it. The atole blanco might taste a little strange when you first try it, but I swear it grows on you,” he says reassuringly. He briefly thinks back to when he first tried it. He was about ten when his mom asked him to try it. The first sip made him pause but after the third drink, he loved it. Gabriel, on the other hand, took longer to try it. He was almost twelve when he finally gave in.

You take a drink from the atole blanco while Miguel’s eyes are on you. He can’t help himself from wanting to see your reaction and he’s glad when he sees you react well to it. You smile at him and nod.

“This is great! I see what you mean by strange, but I like it. It’s very… cozy and comforting,” you say as you drink more. “It’s like – it’s perfect for Christmas. I can’t explain it,” you say, and he nods.

“This was a must on Christmas growing up,” he says as he drinks some, too.

The two of you enjoy the hot drink in peace. As you place the cup down again, you’re thankful Mr. and Mrs. Morales gave you an excuse to talk to Miguel tonight despite having felt nervous when you first arrived. Miguel seems comfortable and doesn’t seem to mind that you’re here, though it should be obvious as he did invite you to stay for dinner. Miguel places his cup down and turns to you, his knee brushes past your leg slightly and he moves it discreetly away.

“What were – what were your Christmases like growing up?” he asks suddenly, quietly.

You turn your face to him, though your bodies are facing each other already. You feel a little surprised by his sudden question, but you don’t mind it. You meet his eyes before looking at the mugs before you, thinking.

“To keep it simple, they were amazing,” you say, returning your eyes to him. “I was an only child, but my parents always went all out. They loved the Christmas spirit, so our apartment was always decorated after Thanksgiving,” you say with a bright smile as you remember. Miguel notices the glint in your eyes as you talk. “We always put the Christmas tree together and they’d let me put the star at the top, even when I was a teenager and later an adult. They were always good,” you say, nodding softly as you think of your parents.

Miguel nods with a faint smile though you don’t notice it. He thinks of a younger you, a version he doesn’t know and will never know. He thinks about Peter, unable to stop himself from thinking about how he probably knew that version of you. He lifts his mug and takes a drink, trying to wash away these strange thoughts.

“Sounds like you had a great childhood,” he finally says, and you nod, making you feel a little sad as you remember Miguel telling you about his step and biological fathers. He didn’t say anything, but you felt that his childhood was not always great.

You bring your own cup to your lips and drink, wanting to change the conversation but Miguel doesn’t mind. He has put a lot of it behind him, at least those parts of his life.

“So, when you said they’d let you put the star on the tree as an adult, you mean it?” he asks, sounding a little amused.

You nod and give him a smile. “I was in university, and they still allowed me do it,” you say with a chuckle. “Peter would tease me about it, but it was fun for all of us.”

Miguel nods, thinking. You notice he has that look on his face. The one when he’s thinking about something.

“What is it?” you ask softly.

Miguel turns to you and shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. I was just thinking… Wondering, I guess.”

“About what? You can ask,” you say, your tone sincere since you don’t mind. He has already shared quite a lot about his past. It’s only fair he asks about yours.

Miguel sighs softly, continuing to hold your gaze. “When did you meet Peter?” he asks quietly, as if unsure of asking this question.

You smile, not minding the question at all. “When we were sixteen. He moved schools and we instantly became friends, which then turned into a relationship,” you say fondly before you pick up your mug and drink.

Miguel stares at you as you do this, still thinking. Since sixteen. It was Peter’s twenty-sixth birthday just weeks ago, which means you had known and dated each other for almost a decade by the time he passed away. He looks down at his nearly empty mug. Almost a decade of a relationship and you still try to live life to the fullest. Miguel grips the cup.

“How do you do it?” he asks quietly.

“Do what?” you ask in confusion.

“You knew Peter for so long. Dated him for so long. And you still… you try.”

You stare at Miguel, feeling a little startled by the sudden change of conversation but Miguel looks like he genuinely wants to know. You remember this was something you thought about in the early days. How people could move on. How they could carry day to day even after losing someone.

“Miguel…” you start and look down at your cups. “It isn’t easy. Especially in the beginning,” you add softly, knowing that for Miguel, it has been a little over a year since he lost his wife and Gabriella. For you, it’s almost four years since you lost Peter. You’re on different points of your mourning periods. You sigh softly. “It isn’t easy at all in the beginning,” you repeat as you think of your next words. “I wasn’t the woman you know now, or even the one you were introduced to months ago,” you say lightly, making Miguel turn to you, with curious eyes. “I don’t want to ruin the Christmas spirit, so I’ll try my best not to.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to. I don’t want to – take away the lightness of today,” he says with a regrettable look on his face.

Why did he ask, he wonders. Everything was going so well.

“No, it’s okay. It helps. Talking about it helps,” you say, reassuring him. You stay silent for about a minute, trying to figure out how to approach this. “I lost sight of things for a month or two after Peter’s death,” you start.

You look away, feeling shame course through you as you remember those dark days. You don’t want to see the look on Miguel’s face when you reveal something you’ve never shared with anyone.

“I’m not proud of it… It brings me great shame to say this,” you say as you stare down at the cups. “There was a time after Peter’s death – a month after everything took place to be exact – that I,” you pause. “I looked for him. I tried hunting down the man that did it,” you say quietly.

“I had a regular job back then, so I went to work. I mourned and tried my best to accommodate to my new life but at night… I couldn’t stop thinking how I could’ve done better. How I could’ve saved him. I thought of the man who did it. How he took Peter from me. The love of my life, my last bit of family…” you trail off, though your tone is still light, and you feel proud of yourself for it, for you know months ago, this conversation would’ve had you in tears. “My thoughts were consumed by it. So, I went out to try to find him. I didn’t plan on doing something to him, I swear,” you say pausing, trying to emphasize this. “All I wanted was to know who he was. Bring him to justice.”

Miguel continues to look at you with a pained expression on his face now as he hears you talk. There is a faraway look on your face, as if you were back in that time but you turn back to him and he’s like an anchor, keeping you tethered to this moment.

“One night, when I thought I had a lead – I was on a rooftop, and I finally realized that Peter would’ve never wanted to see me like that. And that I was failing my promise to him,” you say, meeting Miguel’s eyes. “He made me promise to try to move on. To be open to another love. I tried after that. It was slow progress. The last few months since I joined the society have really helped me,” you say with a soft smile as you wrap your fingers around your mug softly.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever really move on, but it feels easier as the days go on,” you tell Miguel. “I guess, it also helped that I eventually found the man. Or rather, he found me. I forgave him,” you say with a quiet sigh and offer Miguel a smile. And as he stares at you, he realizes how much stronger you are than he thought. “He was my own version of Flint Marko, otherwise known as Sandman. He never meant to hurt Peter that day. He was just – trying to rob a bank to get money for his child’s surgery.”

You stare down at the cups and think of Marko. Last you heard from him, he was trying to do better, and his daughter, who was now older, recovered from her illness. You lift the cup to your lips and take a small drink before setting it down.

“I’m not the best example of how to do it,” you say, looking up. “But I try and sometimes, that’s all you can do. For them.”

Miguel continues to stare at you and even though you thought you might’ve found judgment in his eyes, you see none of the sort. Miguel stares at you with even more respect than before. He looks down at his hands for a few seconds before he looks up again.

“I think – Peter must be happy that you are trying to honor his promises,” he says softly, wishing he could say more. Wishing he could reach out to you physically the way his hands were begging him to.

You smile at him. “I think so, too. I think he’s happy with where I’m now. You know, the whole reason I joined the Spider Society was because of him. I declined the invitation from Jess initially until she asked me what he would’ve thought about everything. I know he would’ve loved the idea of it. He would’ve loved learning about the multiverse,” you say with a grin and then shake your head softly as you pick up the mug again. “He loved science, too.”

Miguel stares at you, surprised at hearing this. Jess never mentioned you rejecting her invitation. He looks up at the ceiling a little bit and in that moment, he finds himself internally thanking a man he never met.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says after a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry if it made you…” Miguel trails off.

You turn to him again. “It’s okay. It didn’t. It helps,” you say, and your tone is still lighthearted. “I think I’m ready to try the other drink.”

Miguel continues to stare at you. “I think I am, too… This one is sweeter,” he says as he wraps his fingers around the mug. Miguel watches as you lift the mug to your mouth to try it and once again, there’s that pleased look on your face that makes him forget his worry from earlier about messing with your plans. You don’t seem to mind.

As the two of you sit there and enjoy the second hot drink, Miguel’s thoughts are on you. You’re so strong and not only in a physical way but in a way that Miguel feels he hasn’t been able to. You’re strong by trying to fulfill your promises. For forgiving the man that took Peter from you. For trying to move forward and trying at life. Miguel has never said it, but he respects you.

You’ve accepted his boundaries in a way so many others haven’t. You’ve offered him nothing but kindness. You’ve listened when he shares memories with you. You’re a hard worker and meticulous when it comes to your duties as Spider-Woman. You’re strong. So strong.

And his respect for you grows tenfold, if that’s even possible, considering how much he already respected you before tonight. Miguel thinks about this and the fact that you’re the first person that has been to his penthouse in years.

Friend.

Maybe you do consider him a friend, Miguel thinks to himself as he takes a drink, too.

“This is really good, too,” you say quietly as you drink more, and for some reason, it makes Miguel feel pleased.

“Glad you liked both,” he murmurs as he drinks more. He suddenly wonders what time it is. The two of you have been here for what feels like two hours now. He checks the time discreetly from a nearby clock.

It’s past eleven, which means it’s almost time for the annual AI Christmas holographic show. He stands up, making you turn to see him.

“It’s almost time for something my city does annually. I think you’ll like it,” he says and motions for you to follow him.

You see him take his mug and you do the same before you follow him to the windows that face his kitchen and dining areas directly, giving Miguel another sight of the city. He leans sideways on the windows and looks down, waiting for you to join him. You reach the windows and lean on them, too, mirroring his stance. You look down and see the Christmas decorations on the snow-covered ground despite being on the highest floor of this building. The decorations, which are holographic, make you realize for the first time that there’s no sight of a Christmas tree in Miguel’s penthouse. You don’t say anything about this, of course. You know with everything that’s happened, a Christmas tree is the last thing one can think about in times like these. You’re glad there’s at least a little bit of Christmas spirit in Miguel since he cooked and took the day off though.  

Still watching the decorations, you think of something and wonder. You’ve noticed some of them from HQ when you walk by the windows throughout the month, but it’s been like a second thought with missions and what not. You wonder now if everyone has holographic Christmas trees or if physical trees are still a thing here. You look up at Miguel and he turns, as if feeling your gaze.

“What is it?” he asks softly before he takes a drink.

“Are physical Christmas trees a thing here?”

Miguel gives you a small smile, which still catches you by surprise. “Only the wealthy have physical trees. Everyone else has holographic decorations,” he explains, and you nod. You know Miguel is wealthy, so his lack of a tree is not because of money but because he didn’t want to put one up.

You look back outside, thinking. Miguel continues to stare at you, wanting to know what you’re thinking.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asks, though for him it isn’t. He’s used to the technology and to this tradition, but he can imagine how it can be odd for you when you come from a universe where physical Christmas trees are the norm.

You bring the cup to your mouth, enjoying the sweetness of the hot drink. “I was just thinking how putting the Christmas tree together as a family is a big thing. Or well, it was for my family and I.”

Miguel nods, remembering what you said earlier about your family and the holidays. He leans more into the window, crossing one of his legs over the other.

“To make up for that, families sit down and design the ornaments together through their devices. Then, they upload their designs to the tree. There’s a program and everything,” he says thinking about the process. He has an artificial tree, which is stored at HQ, but he also has a holographic one from previous years when he was too busy to put a physical one with his family. “I’ll show you,” he suddenly says, putting his mug on the window stool before he heads to the living room section. As he looks for a tablet on his table, he can’t help but think about this. How he’s comfortable showing you things. How he wants to show you things. Like how the holographic tree program works or the annual AI Christmas holographic show which should start soon.

Friend.

He finds the tablet and starts it up, which only takes about a second to boot up. He walks back to you as he opens the program. He reaches you and stands closer to show you.

“First, you put the tree up,” he says as he shows you the screen. The two of you stand side by side, looking at the screen as he clicks on the tablet. He looks up and points. “It’ll appear right there.”

Sure enough, a large holographic Christmas tree, decorated in classic Christmas colors, appears a few feet away from the two of you, near Miguel’s dining table.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur as you notice the star at the top of the tree.

“Thank you,” Miguel says as he looks at it, too. He wasn’t expecting to put up a tree this year but here he is. He looks back down at the screen. “Then, you can design your own ornaments using this program,” Miguel continues and shows you. He pulls out a stylus from the tablet, surprising you. The tablet is so thin you wonder how it’s even possible but then remember it’s Nueva York.

You watch as Miguel uses the stylus to design an ornament. He inserts lines as part of the design and changes the color of the ornament to match the theme. It takes him a few seconds to finish before he writes his name on it neatly.

“And it’s done. Now you upload it like this,” he says and shows you. “The program decides where it should go but you can manually change it if you want,” he adds.

The two of you look up just as it appears on an empty spot on the tree. Miguel then offers you the tablet and stylus. You look up at him, confused.

“Try it,” he says, still waiting for you to take the tablet and stylus from his hands.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking down at it.

He nods. “Give it a go.”

You set your mug next to his on the window stool and take the tablet and stylus from him, your fingers brushing past his bare ones once again. You ignore the sensation and focus on the screen with the new canvas to design yours. Your brows furrow as you think for a second about what you want it to look like. You start working on it, with Miguel watching intently. He notices how quickly you figure out how to use the program and watches as you design your ornament with ease.

As you work on it, you can’t help but notice a scent. Or rather his scent. You’ve caught a bit of it before of course but it has never been this strong to your nose. Not like this when he stands by your side, so close your arms are almost touching, with him dressed in normal clothes. You add small details to your ornament as his scent envelops you, distracting you slightly as the combination of his shower products and shaving cream blended with his natural scent surround you. You can’t suppress the thought that pops into your head at that moment, which is that his scent is delightful.

You clear your throat quietly as you add your name to the ornament. You stare at it for a few seconds.

“Hmm, I like the traditional stuff, but not going to lie, this was fun,” you say and smile at Miguel, still feeling distracted by his scent. “I can see kids enjoying this a lot.”

Miguel nods, his lips curling upward again as you give him the tablet back, completely unaware of your thoughts. “You may not like the architecture, but I think you would settle just fine in this universe,” he comments, as he looks at your ornament, thinking of how quickly you figured it out and the fact that yours turned out better than his. “Now… you just upload it,” he says softly before he does exactly like that. You stare at the tree, feeling a little surprised that he’s adding your ornament, but you shrug it off. The two of you watch as your ornament, which matches the tree’s theme, appears right next to his.

Miguel stares at it, the sight of your ornament appearing next to his makes him pause for a second. It’s the first time in years Miguel has put up a tree in his penthouse. It’s also the first time that a non-family person has added their ornament to his tree.

Miguel now clears his throat quietly. “Not bad at all,” he says and nods. “Oh, the show should start soon,” he says, trying to put his thoughts away about the tree and your ornament.

You nod. “Thank you. That was fun,” you add as you turn your attention back to the decorations outside. You briefly look down at your gizmo. It’s 11:33 P.M. now, meaning Christmas Day is less than thirty minutes away now. You’ve spent a lot more time here than you expected but you don’t mind. You wonder if people back in Miles’s universe have left the party or if they’re still hanging out.

“Glad you enjoyed that,” Miguel says softly, putting the tablet on a nearby surface. You notice he doesn’t put the tree away. It’s still there as he leans on the window sideways again, looking outside towards the decorations as well. He briefly thinks about Gabriella. He only had one Christmas with her. He remembers it vividly as he looks out, recalling Gabriella’s excitement on Christmas morning. He remembers thinking how perfect it was and how, if all his future Christmases could’ve been like that, he would’ve never asked for anything else. His wife wasn’t in the picture then, so it had just been Gabriella and him. Now that he thought of it, he and his wife didn’t have much time together. It was very brief. Miguel clears his throat. He doesn’t want to think of the past like that right now. He doesn’t want to think of how rushed everything was when it came to his relationship and marriage. Not tonight.

His thoughts are thankfully interrupted when he sees the sign that the show is starting. He turns to look at you to make sure you’re watching, and of course, you are. Your eyes are on the sky as you see the announcement before it starts, filled with curiosity and awe. Miguel turns his gaze back to the sky as the show starts. Holographic Christmas trees appear from thin air, all lit up in Christmas colors. Reindeer fly by the windows, galloping here and there. Twinkling lights decorate the background as holographic snowflakes descend before they begin to form into snowmen that start dancing.

You watch in awe, finding this fascinating. Miguel steals a glance to see your reaction. He sees the awe and fascination on your face, clearly enjoying this.

“This isn’t even the best part,” he says quietly as he knows there’s always more to it.

You smile as reindeer fly by the windows again. “This is so – I wish we had this in my universe,” you answer quietly. “The closest we have to this are projections.”

Miguel chuckles lowly. “Well… You’re welcome to come watch it again next year,” he answers as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Neither of you say anything else. Was that an invitation for you to join him again next year? You push your thoughts away and focus on the show just as a holographic Santa Claus and his sled appear out of nowhere, making you smile.

“Santa Claus,” you whisper as the sled approaches Miguel’s windows. The holographic Santa Claus waves as he passes by making you chuckle. The show continues with Santa Claus flying around as the reindeer align themselves to the sled, supposedly to get ready for the flight. At one point the show presents Santa’s workshop and tiny elves working on different toys and preparing the sled. It concludes with Santa flying by the windows again, this time with all his reindeer and magical sack of toys before they fly off, disappearing into the sky. A large holographic “Feliz Navidad” message and red poinsettias conclude the show.

You stare at the message, still in awe with a smile.

“That was amazing. You grew up with this?” you ask softly.

Miguel nods. “Gabriel and I always looked forward to it.”

You smile, once again thinking of a younger Miguel. “It must be amazing, to experience this as a child,” you answer, thinking of kids.

“The kids love it,” he replies as he also stares at the message, knowing it will stay up past midnight.

You nod and the two of you just stare out the window in silence for a few minutes. You watch as you see white, tiny spots in the sky. With each second, more and more appear.

“It’s starting to snow,” you murmur, making Miguel pay more attention and sure enough, it’s snowing.

“A white Christmas,” he whispers, as the snow picks up.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat.

The two of you stand ever so closely, leaning on the window sideways, your bodies facing each other as you watch the falling snow. And in that moment, everything feels alright with the world for you and Miguel, despite everything.

You look down at your gizmo. It’s past midnight now.

“Merry Christmas,” you say, quietly.

Miguel smiles softly as the two of you stare out the window. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

-

Thirty minutes later, Miguel stands in front of his holographic Christmas tree alone. You returned home a few minutes ago, looking and sounding tired after being out for so long. So, you both said goodnight to each other but not before Miguel asked if you’d want some food or if you’d prefer to join him again in a few hours for the recalentado.

You said yes to the latter.

Miguel continues to stare at the tree, or more specifically at the new ornaments, for a few minutes, thinking.

Friend.

He finally goes to sleep after storing the food away. He leaves the Christmas tree up, which you still find when you return hours later to eat dinner with him on Christmas Day.

__________________________

Translation for italicized words: Mierda - Shit Pozole - A kind of soup/stew made from hominy and meat (can be chicken or beef). Tamales - I think everyone knows these Tinga - Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or as burritos (my experience) Atole Blanco - white atole, a Latin hot drink made out of corn meal Ponche Navideño - Mexican Christmas fruit punch Tostadas - toasted tortillas; usually used as a base for different culinary dishes Recalentado - word translates to "reheated"; this is the act of inviting your closest friends and family the day after you host a party to eat the reheated leftovers, it's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit situation and less formal because it's with close family/friends (do you see what this means for you, the reader? I'm not okay, right now)

--

May I just -

Miguel in a freaking chunky cable knit sweater. His damp hair. His bare skin. His scent (I KNOW HE SMELLS GOOD and you cannot change my mind). Him knowing that you were asked specifically to go drop him food. Him asking you to stay for dinner. Him serving the food. Him being a great cook. Him being a great host. His respect for you growing. Him wanting to comfort you physically (AHH.) Him showing you the annual Christmas show and how the holographic Christmas tree thing works and adding your ornament and staring at it because it appeared next to his and him leaving the tree up even tho he didn't plan on putting one up and him thanking Peter for influencing you to join the Spider Society even tho he never met him (CRYING, SCREAMING). Him inviting you for dinner again!!!!!!

So a lot of people said yes to the Christmas part but I was also selfish and wanted to write Miguel like this and get some Christmas comfort before the next part because... yeah. So, sorry to anyone who didn't want it. I needed this.

Also, I'm sorry for the late update. I meant to post Sunday but it was that time of the month and it kicked my butt. I hope you enjoy it, and if you've read this far, thank you for the support!! ❤️ I hope to be back Sunday with an update, tho I have a family event Saturday so idk if it'll be possible but I'll try.

I love Miguel so much and it's a problem but it's okay -Alondra

Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze

[flusteredmoonn]

the tortured poets department; james potter

summary: "sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me," in which after years of james pining after lily, he finally falls for someone else.

tags: (SFW), fluff, drabble??, fast paced, angst, probably ooc!james, gryffindor!reader, she/her pronouns, third person y/n. proofread by @cosmicbolter

words: 1.5k+

ttpd tracklist. request.

pewter cauldrons fizzled as each of the students observed their concoctions, referring to the book of advanced potions. not james potter, though.

"hey! evans," he called across the classroom, drawing the attention of the auburn haired girl, whose head snapped up at the call of her surname. "do we add the tentacula before or after the lacewig flies," he shouted across the room, dismissing both the stares of his peers and the reprimands from the professor. he knew venomous tentacula wasn't an ingredient in the focus draught they were brewing, yet he wanted her to instruct him anyways.

lily looked down at her book of advanced potions, carefully scanning the print for the answer. her gaze resumed on the boy with a slight pinch in her brow, "tentacula isn't in this one, james," her smile was unsure, although she was quick to resume her work when the boy smiled and nodded at her in thanks. heat rose through her cheeks as she felt the intrusion that was the lingering gaze of her peers.

james also seamlessly resumed his brewing, his glasses sliding down his nose as he used the iron spoon to stir the stew of plants before him. he ignored the loud teasing from sirius which followed his interaction with the red head.

"oooh, she didn't shut you down there mate, she must be into you," the amusement in his tone was palpable, especially with the laughter it had elicited from both remus and peter. the latter was quick to slap a hand over his mouth, though, with a coy smile before the stout boy continued his brew. "pads, stop," heat rose up his body, pink dusting his freckled cheeks.

"oh, look i'm james! 'hey evans'" he made an unintelligible sound, ''i wonder what goes in this potion which i have the page open to on my book" he continued to mock james, making his voice exaggeratedly deep. behind them, y/n brought her hand up to her mouth to cover her mouth and suppressing a laugh at the friend groups antics. the curly haired boy heard movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder amusedly, watching her clear entertainment and smirking to himself before tuning back in to his long haired friend's continuous teasing.

thankfully, before he could get too carried away, the professor had directed the class with a new instruction, distracting sirius enough to forget he was teasing his friends.

"now class!" the professor's voice boomed off of the walls, ricocheting off of the flagstone floor as he continued to speak, "you should now be at the stage of collecting a dugbog tongue from the table up the front and adding it to your cauldrons– which should now be a light blue colour," the old man smiled, gesturing for the class to move onto the next stage of their brew.

still smug with a freshly pampered ego, james sauntered over to the front of the class, though not before beckoning lily's attention. confidently, with his longterm crushes eyes on him, he reached into the basket containing the deceased tongues bravely before he jokingly held it in front of his own mouth and acting as though it were his own. he continued to mime with the teachers back to him.

faint giggling could be heard from across the room, however, not from lily. the boy looked across the room to see y/n equally as amused as before, which only egged him on. he continued his antics, ending up sliding across the front of the classroom in an attempt to mock the beast whose tongue they were using, and ignoring the reprimands of his friends who at this point were over the dramatic display. the boy got carried away, locking eyes with y/n and leaning backwards on the table at the front of the room holding the ingredients. a deafening bang echoed through the room as james accidentally knocked the exposed supplies off of the desk.

"potter!" professor slughorn shouted.

the notorious chime of the clocktower bell ringing through the school sounded as professor slughorn dismissed his potions class, rolling his eyes at the mess left behind from james. chatter immediately erupted through the room as friends reunited with one another and made their way to their next classes. the group of gryffindor girls gathered together, laughing as they walked.

"saved by the bell huh, james," marlene mckinnon snickered as the boy walked past her with his friends. he stuck his tongue out at her in rebellion. childishly, the boy whipped round and stuck his tongue out at the girl and her group of friends. "he's ridiculous," she muttered to the group as they watched him run off after his friends.

"i can't believe he did that, lils, and all for your attention," dorcas added, murmurs filled the corridors as students now hurried to their next classes.

"i dunno, y/n seemed pretty taken by him," she shrugged. "hm?" the girls attention was beckoned from the back of the group as they rounded the corner and entered their transfiguration classroom.

"i just said that you seemed pretty intrigued by james today, is all," the girl repeated, sighing as she sunk into her seat. "i mean i can't believe he even thought to act that way, it's unprecedented," she continued with a laugh as marlene slid into her seat next to dorcas, very evidently mocking the bespectacled boys former actions as the professor entered the classroom whilst y/n slid into a seat by herself.

"take your seats, boys," professor mcgonagall spoke sternly, looking to the rowdy group of boys. as if they were small children who had been told off, they immediately found seats across the room and looked ready to listen. james sat himself down next to y/n wordlessly, merely flashing her a momentary smile before giving his full attention to the beginning of the lecture.

professor mcgonagall began to charm the chalkboard to draw various detailed diagrams of the topics she was discussion, the sound blending into that of the scrawling of quill on parchment. eventually the professor had ordered the class to move onto the independent work, urging them to talk quietly, if they felt the need to talk at all.

casually, remus looked across the room to where james sat, intrigued as he hadn't taken his usual spot next to him. and sitting away from where lily had been situated. but the boy smirked as he watched james deliberate over what to say to y/n.

"hey, do you know what we–"

"what do you want from me james," the girl spoke suddenly, a certain firmness in her tone as she turned to look at him.

dumbfounded, the boy stared at her for a moment, his jaw ajar, "uhm, nothing?" he sounded unsure of himself, "i just wanted to know if you knew what we were supposed to do for this question, he pointed to a row of text in their book on transfiguration, glancing up to see professor mcgonagall transfixed by marking first years papers stoically.

"but why did you sit next to me, potter," her voice entirely coated in sourness, clearly unamused by his attempt to be comedic, "shouldn't you still be bothering poor lily, with futile attempts for her attention," there is was, he could practically hear her eyes rolling from where he was sat.

"i wanted to sit with you, i didn't realise it was such an issue," he huffed, nervously shooting a look to his friends.

"but why, why the sudden interest–" she cut herself off, "you know i'm failing this class right, like you can't cheat off of me and succeed, yeah," she laughed, clearly finding a new humour in the situation.

"i didn't come here to cheat off of you," he looked at her, entirely serious, "and i haven't been annoying evans nearly as much as i usually do, i'm self aware now!" he exclaimed confidently, sitting up and puffing his chest.

"pfft."

"i am," he defended himself at her laughter, a smile of his own weaving its way across his features. she turned to face him now, his expression faltering slightly at the directness of her attention on him. "so what'dya call that stunt in potions, where you were clearly chasing after her attention," her brow quirked up.

"i wasn't," he mumbled, turning his head away and talking into the shoulder facing away from her. momentarily, he caught the watchful eyes of his friends, before whipping his head back around to her when she hummed inconclusively. he repeated himself, watching several emotions flash across her face in a split second, urging him to elaborate.

"the ship between us, i think, has sailed," he paused, in thought, "i think there's something i'd rather explore with someone else'.

[mydearchoso]

a/n: i work at a museum and occasionally get to run the planetarium. the white noise of the audio tower is great listening for when you wanna daydream about getting fucked by ur fav. um otherwise, idk if i really like this. just a blurb from while i'm bored at work. not proofread/edited.

pair: anyone you want, really. i personally was thinking about sukuna, choso, gojo, or geto throughout it (i'm a whore).

cw: exhibitionism, creampie, unprotected, quickie, kinda just tainting a 'pure' place? idk. museums, to me, have always been a place of good intentions and the like.

you're braced against the counter that lies behind the screen of the planetarium, your foot hitting the stool that's left there for staff as George Takei's honeyed voice informs you of the solar system. a hushed "shit." leaving your lips as you find your balance.

meanwhile, your skin-tight jeans are getting pulled to your mid-thigh, panties in tow as large hands grope you. pushing the shirt of your uniform up your back for a better view.

"gotta be quiet, darling." he speaks lowly in your ear, pressing the bulge in his jeans against your bare core. "w'only got twenty minutes."

then suddenly his hands are off your waist, two fingers entering your damp hole as you hear a zipper move and clothes shuffling as he pulls his cock out, starting to stroke the length slowly. his fingers curling and prodding gently inside you, slowly. an attempt to prep you without being too loud, quick to add a third finger in his hushed rush.

whether it's his impatience or the way you're starting to leak, you don't know, but suddenly your cunt is empty and cold. then suddenly, he's pushing his head past the tight ring of muscle. groaning ever so quietly. all for you, just for you.

he leans over you, ghosting his chest over your back as his right hand comes to rest by yours on the counter. his breathing shallow in your ear as he tries to contain the sounds of pleasure he so desperately wants to air to the audience. and you, you can't help the soft whimpers that pour from your lips as though they were molasses, sweet, dense, viscous... and something he can't help but want to swallow.

he brings his left hand up from your waist to tilt your head towards his, kissing you firmly as his tongue gently begins to play with yours. sheathing himself completely inside of you. he lets out a filthy moan into your mouth, shuddering a little as he pauses.

swallowing his moan, you topple forward a little, having to be as quiet as possible while regaining your balance beneath his frame. while you're panting against his lips, his hips start to draw back, length dragging and catching on your pretty walls. biting back his moans as he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, his left hand moving from your jaw to cover your mouth. the only way he can ensure your silence as he starts a steady pace.

he fucks into you for several minutes, curling his hips with each thrust to reach that delicious spot inside you as he does. over time, you feel his dick start to twitch. by that time, he's bringing his hand off the counter and down to your clit. rubbing in haphazard circles, desperate to feel your release around him. alternating between these frantic movements and pinching your clit between his thumb and pointer finger. enjoying the way you jumped up and away from him. of course, only to be met by his hand, and the strong arm that held you in place.

lifting his head from your neck, he whispers into your ear. "i'm gonna need you to cum on my dick, gorgeous. we're not done here until you do." to emphasize this, he resumes his quick, small circles that are all but timed with his thrusts. enjoying how your body shivers and flinches beneath him.

as his movements start to grow sloppy, he slows. softly kissing your neck as he focuses on your pulsing bud, moaning quietly into your back when he feels your walls flutter.

while he's devoted all his attention to you, you're currently gripping the counter in front of you like you're trying to break it. the frantic movements causing the coil in your stomach to tighten. breath hitching as you whimper thoughtlessly into his hand. rocking forward onto your toes in an attempt to escape his considerate efforts.

this attempt does you no good though, as his considerate... efforts are no longer as kind as you first thought. he needed you to cum, no matter what it took to get you there. his fingers becoming rougher on the sensitive nub when finally, the coil snaps and you're spasming beneath him. legs shaking wearily as you remain on your toes, counter creaking beneath your palms as you lean even further onto it, and his pace suddenly becoming desperate once more. struggling against your walls that clasp down around him so tightly.

finally, he lets some of his weight fall onto you, his shuddering, whiny breaths in your ear as he spills into you. staying their as he shivers agains your back, his own pleasure mimicking yours. then, with a small grunt, he's moved away from you. pulling your panties up before stepping farther back, returning himself to an orderly presentation as you do the same.

a few more minutes of awkward silence passes as Takei finishes his thoughts, and then your partner in crime is moving to open the heavy doors for the crowd. after a few minutes, the room is cleared and you hear the doors thud shut as you check the floor for lost items. as you stand up after retrieving a stray wallet, you feel a hand on the small of your back.

"We should do that again some time."

[femd-archive]

FANTASY

pairing: the legend of korra — bolin x fem!reader

word count: 0.6k

content warning: femdom reader | sub bolin | stablished relationship | begging | dumbification | masturbation (m) | dirty talk | pegging | breeding kink | aftercare

📎 side note: this been in my drafts for a year now maybe hshdhsdh

inspired by this tweet i saw a while while ago:

You think to yourself that it was a good idea to start fucking once Mako was out with Korra and Asami for a walk outside, since you didn't think that Bolin would be this loud today.

"Please...please baby" the plead came out as a whisper, his voice was so worned out from moaning and screaming so loud.

"Please what, baby? Tell me, love" you whisper in his ear, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

"Please... don't cum inside, please!" he whines, big fat tears spilling from his pretty eyes. And despite his request, he hugs you closer for you not to pull out from him.

You stay still for a moment, thinking. Cum? Inside? You pull slightly apart to take a look at his face, immediately noticing that he's so far gone. His eyes were unfocused, and a thread of saliva was dirtying his cheek, as well as it was covered in his tears.

You had fuck him so dumb that he thinks you can cum inside him! You chuckle as you resume your thrusts in him once again, making him yelp.

"Why not, love? Do you not want me to fill you up? To swollen your belly with my babies inside you?" you humm in his ear, smiling as he whimpers and shakes his head cutely.

"No please… I'm too young to be a mommy yet!" he cries, holding you tigthter as his legs weakly wraps around your hips.

"But you'll look so cute… even cuter that you already are" you add as you see him pout at you. You kiss his lips. "Come on baby, please? I'll take care of you, promise" you whisper in between kisses, hips slapping on his skin as your thrusts go harder and harder.

It took him a while to form a full sentence in between his whimpers and moans, but once he 'thinked' about it, he said, "A-alright...fill me up, fill me up with your babies!" he cries, hugging you closer again.

You smile devishly as you hug him back, leaving a short kiss on his neck as you fuck him faster, a hand moving in between your bodies to grab his aching cock and starting to pumping it with the rhythm of your thrusts.

You didn't have a strap-on that could squirt cum out of it, but you hoped Bolin was gone enough to think you really came inside him.

"Come on baby, cum with me" you coo at him, only getting whimpers as a response.

"Cumming...ngh- cumming!" he cries, dirtying his whole chest and part of yours with his cum.

You give the last few thrusts inside him, groaning as if you really just had emptied yourself on him. The grip of his limbs around you had loosen up for him to spread himself on the bed, his shaky breath getting stabilized progressively.

You pull out and take the harness off your body, getting up from the bed to get a wet towel and start cleaning Bolin up.

"I feel so...full" he mutters as you clean up his tummy. You look up at him, and find his pretty green eyes looking at you dreamily.

You chuckle. "Yeah? You'll look so good in a few months with your growing belly" you squeeze the fat of his hip as you leave a kiss on his cheek, cleaning the rest of his body and yourself before getting ready to cuddle.

You know that tomorrow is gonna be a normal day, and even in a few hours, Bolin is not gonna remember anything that he said today, but something in you has awaken to the simple thought of your boyfriend carrying your children inside him for you. He snuggles to your side, his happy grin making you smile to yourself as you bring him closer.

If only that could be possible...

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

One of the thoughts I touched upon regarding Harland in my NSFW headcanon post about him is the idea that he'd be a great hookup, but a terrible partner. After a bit more thinking (and, honestly, pondering possible threesome combinations for other pairs I'm working on stuff for, since I've yet to really try my hand at writing a scene with more than two people), I've decided that he would be an AMAZING sexual third to an already established couple. If you're gonna shoot your "my partner and I saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe" shot with anyone, he should be a prime candidate.

For starters, he's not only detached enough to keep things uncomplicated between all of you, he strongly prefers to keep things that way, and will either back way off or completely disappear if he senses his presence is causing real shifts between the two of you. He enjoys having company and he enjoys making friends (especially if you're the kind of friends who get each other off), but he's not especially interested in laying down any deep roots anywhere. Putting too much stock into people only leads to loss in this world; he's all too familiar with that painful truth. If you're going down to the local watering hole for the night and wanna invite him to go along, he's game; ditto if you wanna invite him home with you afterwards. But if you're looking for a third partner to add into your life on a consistent basis, don't put his resume too high up on the pile. You'll be disappointed in your hiring choice.

He's more into women than men when it comes to the actual act itself, but what he's really into is being in control and feeling like the biggest swinging dick in the room (both literally and metaphorically). He's more than happy to get involved with whoever's closest and most in need of an attitude adjustment in the heat of things. With Harland, it's less about what genitals you both have and more about the energy you're bringing to the table. With a little enthusaism, he can be convinced into trying almost anything once...or twice.

There's something deep in him that really loves going home with a straight-presenting couple and fucking with both of their heads, though. One of his favorite things to do, sexually, is to make a woman cum so hard in front of her male partner that there's almost insecurity there; he finds that that sort of unspoken challenge often motivates people to turn in the best performance of their lives. If your man isn't one weird look away from starting a nude fistfight with him, he doesn't feel like he's doing his job properly. Maybe he needs to make you cum a few more times real quick to get his point across...

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day nine ⛧ breeding kink

Roman Bridger x F!Reader

You and Roman have been trying for a baby for a while without any luck. One day, Roman is on his way home from work and has a request. 

warnings: smut, breeding kink, cockwarming, cum eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, mentions of failed pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage/ infertility, oral (f receiving), choking, nipple play (brief), lactation kink (lol. brief.)

word count: 1551

author's note: I LOVE ROMAN HE IS MY BABY DADDY FR (no pun intended I'm fr I love him sm) anyway I hope yall enjoy some Roman content. I have an unfinished Roman fic up rn actually if anyone wants to read it. I'm thinking soon I'll edit/ revise it and continue it. please leave feedback I love seeing what yall think!! ilyy

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Roman says through the phone, readjusting it between his shoulder and ear as he drives, “When I get home, I want you on the bed. Naked. Be ready for me.”

“What?” you laugh, tossing the towel you were folding on the counter, “Roman.”

“You heard me. You have ten minutes.”

A chill runs up your spine as you step away from folding laundry, “Okay.”

It’s easy for Roman to get you to do anything he desires, not in a manipulative way, but in a mutual respect and endearment way.

Roman hangs up, and you scurry upstairs to your shared bedroom to get ready. You look at yourself in the mirror as you strip, switching your basic underwear for something more provocative. You fluff your hair, realizing about 5 minutes have passed before you jog to the bed and hop onto it, lying down. You try to figure out the perfect position but give up. Instead, you just slide your underwear to the side and rub your clit softly, working yourself up. You think of Roman and how bossy he will be when he gets home. How he’s going to tell you what to do and exactly how to do it. The thought of him walking in on you pleasuring yourself sends a surge of arousal through you, and you feel turned on enough to slip a finger inside your dampening cunt. You hum in satisfaction as you curl it against the familiar spongy spot, using your other hand to resume your clit play. You hear Roman slam the front door shut downstairs, and you eagerly add another finger, pumping them in and out slowly. 

“Good girl. Just how I wanted you- ready for my cock.”

You smirk as you continue to fuck your fingers, removing them and licking off your arousal as Roman watches closely.

“You should probably take off your cute underwear before I fucking rip it off of you,” Roman says casually, his eyes darkening as he pulls off his clothes.

You do as told, tossing the underwear somewhere on the floor beside the bed, spreading your legs like you know Roman wants you to. He moans at the sight of your wet pussy, all puffy and ready for him. He wastes no time climbing on the bed and launching himself onto you, Roman’s mouth attaching itself to your cunt, licking a wide stripe up your slit before circling your clit with his deft tongue. You grasp his hair as he looks up at you, not breaking eye contact as he laps at your bundle of nerves with vigor. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, gonna put a baby in this pussy,” Roman grunts, gripping your thighs as he eats you out like a starving man.

“Fuck, Roman,” you moan at his words, grinding on his tongue as he fucks you with it.

“Touch your breasts like a good kitten. Want you to think of how swollen and sensitive they’ll be when you’re pregnant with my baby,” Roman doesn’t stop licking and suckling at your cunt, knowing exactly how you will react to his filthy mouth. 

You move your hands from his hair and tweak your nipples, jerking your hips into Roman’s face at the sensation. You try your best to imagine how large you would get in your breasts and stomach, maybe even your thighs and definitely your hips. The two of you have been trying for a baby for a while, and there have been times you wanted to give up. Two miscarriages, negative pregnancy tests out the ass, and possible infertility were just some of the issues that have gone on lately. For a while now, you and Roman have had sex, but not to try for a baby. You haven’t taken any tests because you have yet to miss your period. So, at this point, it’s fair to say no matter what you do, having a baby naturally seems out of the picture. But you let your imagination work its magic anyway.

Roman senses you’re close to orgasm and pulls away, and you frown as you’re torn from your daydream of being full and round with Roman’s child. He sits on his knees, raising your legs to put them on his shoulders as he lines himself up with your entrance. Slowly, Roman pushes himself into you, nearly howling at the feeling of your tight wetness. Every time is like the first time for you both, no matter how life is going, your sex life is always perfect. This time is no different. Once Roman is sheathed all the way into you, he waits a moment for you to adjust to his size. You wiggle your hips a little, taking deep breaths as you stretch around him. You begin to move your body back and forth, motioning for Roman to move, too. And he doesn’t waste a second before pulling out and plunging back into you. Gaining a steady rhythm, Roman leans down to capture your lips with his, your chest nearly flush with his. You slip your tongue into his mouth and fight for dominance, swallowing his moans as he fucks you a little harder. He grabs hold of your throat and gently squeezes it as he makes out with you.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Roman closes his eyes as he gets lost in the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, your g spot grazing against his tip with every thrust, “Gonna fuck a baby into you, make you so full of my cum you’ll have to get pregnant.”

You moan at Roman’s voice as it whispers dirty fantasies in your ear about how he’s gonna pump you full of cum and fuck it into you, how he’s gonna suck your nipples until you lactate, and how much he loves you. You bounce yourself onto his cock, chasing after your incoming orgasm as Roman toys with your clit. 

“Cum around my cock, baby girl. Milk this cock like you mean it,” Roman gruffs, his breaths coming out in pants as he snaps his hips into yours as fast as he can.

You curse as you purposefully clench hard around Roman, causing him to spurt hot cum into you. The feeling of his hot seed filling your womb makes your orgasm hit you full force, your cunt clenching harder around Roman, milking him for everything he has to offer. You’re both panting as you come down from your highs. You wait for your husband to pull out of you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your hips and lays down, keeping himself inside you. You’re the one on top now, still full of Roman’s softening cock.

“Are you gonna-”

“Nope,” Roman smiles, “I was serious about fucking a baby into you. I’m keeping my cum in you for as long as I have to.”

You squirm at the feeling of him inside you, your pussy sensitive from your release. 

“Stop moving, or I’ll get hard again,” Roman warns, and you jokingly swivel your hips.

You both laugh, and Roman reaches up to push some hair out of your face, “My beautiful wife.”

You smile, keening into his hand as he cups your face. You stay like that, sitting on him for a little while as he massages your breasts, sliding his hands up and down your sides. You rest your palms on Roman’s chest, watching him lovingly.

“I’m gonna pull out, are you ready?”

You nod but still wince slightly as Roman slowly removes himself from you. Before you can react, Roman shoves two fingers inside you, pumping his cum back into you before it can fully leak out. You’re a little turned on from him playing with your nipples a moment ago, so you gasp at the feeling of his digits curling side you. Roman flips onto his stomach, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He hungrily laps at your mixture of cum and arousal, and you groan at the sight of Roman consuming his own release. 

“That’s fucking hot,” you sigh, letting him tongue-fuck you.

Roman sucks your clit as he switches between eating up your leaking cunt and grazing his teeth along the bundle of nerves. You feel yourself edging toward another orgasm and let it wash over you as Roman eats it up, too. 

“God,” you exhale, relaxing into the pillows behind your head, “That was amazing.”

“I agree. We should make babies more often,” Roman laughs.

“More than we already do?” you roll your eyes at him, and he climbs over to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Way more. Like, 3 times a day at least.” Roman rests his hand on your stomach as you both cuddle for a while. You get up to shower, and Roman gets up to make dinner. Over the next few days, you forget about the sex. You’re used to Roman cumming inside you when you fuck anyway, and nowadays, you don’t really miss your period because of it. Until you do. You don’t have your period for a whole month and a half before deciding to take a test. And when you do, there are two lines. So, with shock filling your bones, you take another. And another. They’re all positive Looks like Roman did fuck a baby into you after all.

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[manicrouge]

Liar

[𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 29/12/23

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Keegan lies to you the night you meet yet you remain oblivious to it until you bring it up to him again.

[𝙲𝚠]: angst i guess but it's not that bad.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 4,533

[𝙰/𝙽]: I had plans for this but I really don't have the motivation to finish it, but considering it's quite a few words I didn't want it to go to waste- there's no smut, apologies, but smut isn't really something I'm overly passionate about so I hope that this fluff is good enough to suffice !!

ENJOY !!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's something about him and you're not sure if you should really speak on it because then, ultimately, your delusion is in the real world and not confined to your head. It's torture though, it really is, the constant headache of worrying about how you look and what you're doing when you're around him, and still, you can't seem to snap about it. 

There's a limit to love, you've agreed to that inwardly. Some things you do in the name of love are okay: buying them something just because it reminds you of them, getting them something when they're too busy to get it for themselves, asking them out and asking them if they would like to accompany you on a date somewhere in the city. 

That's normal for love, it something you imagine most people do. 

But then there's your tricky little mind and it seems to kick and scream at the thought of doing something sane in the name of love. You don't want to do any of those things, you don't want to be nice. It's obvious, at least, you think it is. 

He makes you a violent person. 

Perhaps its because you want to show off, you want to him to see you and admire that you did everything he wants from you and much more. When you were just a rookie, you're quite sure you were close to being kicked out, being forced to resume life the way you had prior to them finding you on the side of the road after ODIN had been attacked.

The very thought, even to this day, makes you nauseous. Facing the unbearable heat, soldiers and starvation is a recipe for disaster, and after going without food for however long you did, you had sworn you weren't going to let anything compromise that. But things were overwhelming and you were essentially a burden during the first few months of your training; you couldn't do anything right. 

But he saw you at your lowest, and he didn't let that happen. In fact, you're quite sure he saved you when you met that night. 

'Crying won't get you anywhere, kid.'

If there was one thing about Keegan, he was absolutely right about everything. Including that. 

Pushing your head up from out of your lap, you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you catch a set of blue eyes staring at you. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, a mask covering his features, beanie atop his head as he approaches you, kicking a stone beside you. You turn your head away from him and watch as the little rock rolls down the edge of the hill in the direction of the track. 

'You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago,' he adds, taking a seat beside you. You keep your eyes trained on the direction the stone had slipped, keeping your arms wrapped around your knees before resting your chin upon them. 'You'd get into trouble if one of the superiors caught you outside.'

'I'm no good anyway,' you said, 'better going out this way than any other way.'

Your tone was bleak as you contemplated throwing yourself down the hill. It wouldn't have killed you, but it would free you from the shame of having to speak to the man sitting beside you. 'They're gonna get rid of me soon, throw me to the wolves.'

There wasn't a reply from the man sitting beside you for a while as he shifted where he was sitting. You hear the tear of velcro and finally decided to turn your head to see him holding a box of cigarettes in his hand.

'When I was first starting out,' he began, 'couldn't shoot a sniper for the fuckin' life of me,' he continued, plucking a cigarette from the carton. Bringing his hand up, he hooked his fingers under the edges of his mask, pulling it up, revealing his jaw and lips. 

Much to your surprise, you spied black stubble around his mouth and trailing his jawline. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he grabbed the lighter from the box. Cupping his hand around his mouth, It took a moment, the item in his hand spluttering before eventually spitting a full enough flame for him to light his cigarette. 'I could shoot every other gun okayish, but I wasn't the asset they needed me to be.'

'Don't believe you,' you mumble, looking at the pattern on his mask. You recalled the white markings to belong to a particular unit that even the General had trouble addressing. They did their own thing, stayed out of everyone else's way. 'You're a Ghost, aren't you? Best of the best.'

You don't look at a Ghost unless they talk to you. 

'The mask?' he asked, 'part of the branding, forget I have it on half the time,' he admits, taking a puff from his cigarette. 'Everyone has to start somewhere, kid.'

'I've been here for months and I'm still awful at everything,' you confessed, 'I can't shoot a gun for the fuckin' life of me; my aim is off and I can never seem to focus.'

'If you think about it too much, you'll struggle,' he said. 

'A- And, I can't do close combat- I've been to the infirmary more times than I can count... whenever I go to the nurse now, she doesn't even speak to me,' you rambled, running your hand through your hair. Your throat starts to clog up as you continued to pour your heart out to the man sitting beside you. You couldn't really seem to help it; he was there, and from what you could tell, he wasn't discouraging your fury.

Rules had it that your hair was supposed to be slicked back out of your face and tied up, but after the day you had had, you couldn't muster the strength to keep it tied up. So, after you had had a shower, you kept it out to keep the dull ache in your head away for as long as you could.

You were surprised the man beside you hadn't said anything to you about it. Only, when it's out of your way, you found it easier to keep your hands from plucking and picking at your scalp whenever the anxiety got too much and you were scared you were going to drown in a well of your own tears.

'You're too stressed about everything,' he said, 'if you overthink it, like I said, you're gonna fuck it up. What's got you so stressed, kid?' he asked, looking at you. Your eyes water as you turn your head away from him, letting out a shaky exhale. 

A better question would have been what wasn't stressing you out. 

'Hey, don't shut down on me, tell me what's wrong... can't promise I'll be much help, but it's good to have someone to talk to,'  he said, 'talk at me, tell me what's wrong,' he demanded, as though he was some form of saviour.

Only, in that moment, he was.

'They're gonna throw me out if I can't be what they want me to be,' you were much too choked up to fight against the urge of spilling your guts to the Ghost, your grip around your knees growing tighter as you began to shake. 'And I can't go back out there; if I go back out there, 'm gonna die, I know I am,' you sniffled, 'a- and I can't die, especially not out there with those monsters I can't but I'm going to if I don't get better but I don't think I can get better and- and—'

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you to his side.

You were startled at first, feeling his gloved hand on your shoulder, being pulled close enough for your senses to be flooded with his cologne. Ghost's weren't supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be aloof, transparent, careless. Yet, as he held you, you found your trembling nerves were soothed with his efforts.

The cigarette on his breath stained the moment, and when you opened your eyes, you found that he had tossed the cigarette down the same hill that the little rock he had kicked had rolled down, the red hue of the burning tip settling into the darkness while winking at you.

'You're not gonna get thrown out, kid,' he quietly said, 'it's been a tough change, I know it has been, but you can't let it get to you because, if you do, the stress is gonna kill you before anything beyond this base gets to you, hm?' he asked, looking at you.

You looked back at him, thinking back to that morning where you had pulled out a small clump of hair from the your head. You'd spent the next hour crying over it, and whittled yourself so far down that you'd convinced yourself you were going to die.

Everything lead to the thought of death with you. You couldn't escape it. The devil caged you and he trapped you, laughing in your face as he dangled your very livelihood before you.

And still you failed.

'How do you know that?' you asked, 'you think some sort of miracles going to happen?' you continued.

'I'm going to teach you,' he said, 'I'll give you a helping hand; wanna see if you're as useless as you're saying you are or if you're just overcomplicating everything.'

'You don't have the time to do that, at this point I'm gonna be 90 but the time I manage to land a hit on someone in training.'

'And how do you know that?' he asked, 'you my Captain?'

You stared at him, the sudden shift in his tone causing your face to heat up.

'You'd be wasting you time with me,' you said, shaking your head, attempting to pull away from him, all for his grip on you to tighten.

He wasn't going to let you pull away from him, especially while in the state you were in. You'd curse him if you didn't feel so secure in his arms, so, you simply give in to the urge of staying close to him, not allowing your ego to destroy the first ounce of comfort you had gotten since arriving on the base.

'Wasting time here with you now; could be in bed,' he stated simply, 'I'll speak to someone, get you put under my supervision until I'm sure you'll be fine returning to your brigade.'

'Are you allowed to do that?' you asked.

'Captains in your department barely look at me, kid,' he chuckled, ''scared I'm gonna bash the brains in with the butt of my gun or somethin'. They won't turn down my request- especially if you're as much as a burden as you're sayin' you are; they'd be happy to get you off their hands if that's the case, not that they'd refuse me in the first place.'

He spoke to you as though you were a friend, but you regarded his support as treating you most likely as a lesson; the men your department had little interest in showing a woman how to fight, perhaps that was why you were struggling so much. No one really wanted to give you the time of day, and in a path where it was either sink or swim, you found their actions were taxing.

It was blatant that the men you worked with had little interest in you, and you're clued up enough now to know that. Yet, deep down, you're sure you've always been conscious to their biases towards male soldiers, only, now, you say it without fear of being reprimanded for your supposed 'accusation'. They can't do shit to you anymore and you're thankful for it, because, in the end, if they even look in your direction, you'd have no issue bashing their brains in with the butt of the pistol in the holster on your thigh.

Recently, you find you've been going back to that night where you had been in tears, mostly while by yourself, whether it be at the base or elsewhere, you were focused on that pesky little memory which lead to your stomach pulsing in a sickly manner as you recall the feel of his hand resting on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne.

Little has changed- if anything.

Only, he's a little taller than he was when you first started training together. His height has him towering over you now, and you always laugh about it to yourself whenever your sparring with each other- especially when you're able to put him on his ass.

There's confusion surrounding the memory in your mind, you have mostly forgotten about it until one day, it reappeared. You're unsure what triggered the memories resurgence, and you review it with a sinful glint in your eyes, even with the lack of suggestiveness about the scene.

There's something there that makes you want to scream, that makes you want to cover the world in blood, and you have been fighting with yourself attempting to unwind the memory, unwrap the secrecy of its meaning which it is rejoicing in while you're suffering.

—

The next op leads you to No Mans Land, Elias has sent his sons there with the intent of helping you track down Ajax. You're familiar with the tactics and intent between sending his two boys out there, though none of you really comment or acknowledge the possibility of your squad growing with two members, and supposedly a dog. You're happy to do the work he assigned his boys with yourself; it would be nothing but a quick in and out, especially with the looming time between Ajax's kidnapping and where you find yourself right now.

It's been weeks and you're still no closer to getting him back and you find, while peering through your scope, searching for any sign of the Walker boys, you're gritting your teeth as you contemplate the damage it's doing to Keegan. Both of them are good friends, been together since day one.

But there's nothing you can do; one wrong move and Ajax will be gone forever, and you're not selfish enough to put the life of a friend on the line. You'd put yours on the line before you even dare to put someone else's out for your own greedy intent.

The Federation are like dogs, and as soon as they catch a whiff of Ghost blood, they'll have their feral little backs up, huffing, puffing and growing, impersonating that of a wolf, when, in reality, they're nothing of the sorts. Instead, the puny little pups who cower at the sight of their own shadow... or Rorke. But neither of them are very different from one another.

'You catch anything, kid?' Keegan calls through coms.

Looking down from your position, you catch the man standing below you, Merrick surveying the surrounding area as you hold your sniper up, keeping your eyes on the terrain surrounding you.

You're a fair distance away from where the Walker boys were sent by Elias, ensuring the area is clean for when they eventually make their way to the meet up spot.

'Negative,' you respond, pulling your scope away from your face, 'clear,' you say, 'they're all hauled up at the camp the Walker boys are goin' to- that's my bet anyway,' you say, hooking your arm through the strap on your sniper, carefully making your way down from the tree.

Setting on a curve in the tree, you look down at the ground, shuffling off while keeping hold of a branch. With a grunt, you push yourself off of it, landing on the ground with ease.

'Stalker-Six, this is Viking Actual, we are en route to the target location, how copy?' you perk your ears up, while you busy yourself with grabbing your canteen off of your belt, frowning when you're greeted with a distinct lightness. During the walk up to the scope point, you're quite sure you were only sipping at it. 'We are en route to target location location, how copy?'

A step closer to getting Ajax back.

Hooking you canteen back onto your vest, you lift your head to see Keegan holding his own out to you, 'you drink like it's goin' out of fuckin' fashion, kid,' he remarks, letting go of it as you grab it out of his hands. Unscrewing the lid, he watches you, 'just don't finish it all; can't drink any of the water around here and we don't know how long they're going to be.'

'Solid copy, viking,' Merrick responds, 'be advised, recent reports indicate a lot of enemy movement in that area. We're on a schedule here, so get that intel and get out fast,' he continues. Both you and Keegan listen, and you take two sips of water from his canteen with his narrowed gaze on you before relenting, giving him the bottle back. 'See?'

'Roger that.'

'You're the one with an empty canteen, princess,' he answers, snatching it off of you, putting it back onto his belt. 'We best continue to move up from this position; we're too far out to meet them,' he says, looking to Merrick who hums, 'we're clear to proceed—'

He's crudely cut off by a distant rumble, the shudder resulting in the wind picking up pace, a crows cried out in the distance.

The collateral damage done to the world since ODIN was ripped from the States has been catastrophic, and every now and again, you observe your surroundings with a reservation set for when you make it back to the base; you don't have time to contemplate and wallow in your sorrows, rather, you simply have to get on with it, just as Keegan does as he opens his mouth to speak again.

'Whole place is gonna be swallowed soon,' he sighs, turning to look down the path.

Merrick proceeds forward without another word, intent on keeping on the schedule he has planned out since hearing word from Elias requesting you're there to meet the boys for the information.

Keegan takes a small step before stopping looking over his shoulder at you, 'c'mon, kid, burning daylight,' he says, motioning his head in the direction of Merrick who has already began to trail the path down, 'and water too,' he chuckles, picking up the pace.

It takes a moment to realise why he's suddenly hot on his feet, his sudden shift in mood causing your heart to murmur as you finally see some form of happiness on his face.

You're a second away from smiling at him, and then his comment strikes you like a blunt blade and you grumble out a curse, following after the two men with a huffing breath and curse

—

'Stalker Six, we got something here, looks like they're digging through some sort of wreckage.'

After a few minutes of silence and trivesing through the remains of the wild life in the rotting area, you're greeted with the voice of the same Walker boy who has been doing all the talking.

You're familiar with his name, Hesh. Although, as you're walking beside Keegan, you find the name of the other one escapes you. It doesn't help that he certainly is not one for words.

The comment he makes has all three of you sharing a look, unable to muster any form of response. Despite the urge to speak, you remain quiet, watching as Merrick's brow furrows, rubbing his masked mouth with his hand. 'What do you mean? What kind of wreckage?'

It could be anything and you've learned, over the years, that nothing should surprise you anymore. Hell, even if aliens greet the remnants of Earth tomorrow, you're convinced you'll barely bat an eye to it; it's simply just another day on the job.

'Not sure. It's guarded, but we're gonna push through.'

It's good to know the boys share the same determination as their father, though, the mysterious wreckage works to cause your brow to wrinkle as you contemplate what exactly they're up to now. 'Do they ever have a fuckin' off day?' you ask.

'Negative,' Merrick retorts, 'enemy always has to be doin' something, was the same in the Second World War and it's the same in this one too. You let the enemy loose for a moment of shut eye, they'll dig your grave and put you in it by the time you wake up again,' he continues, his tone gruff as you watch his back.

It's difficult to miss the gunshots the further the Walker boys push into No Man's Land, and you find your hand hovering about the pistol in your holster just to make sure nothing and no one will pounce on you.

While proceeding to the meet up spot, you busy yourself with the thought of Merrick's words, while keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of moment. Nothing is going to get past you, and if it does, you're thankful you have the watchful eye of Keegan located at your side.

It's difficult to even think of him never being as capable as he is today, and when you glance at him, you find your mind falling back to the night once again.

There's something in your chest that flutters at the thought of his care towards you from the night you met all away to right in this moment; Keegan always has your back.

And you always have his... only because of his training, of course.

He catches your look almost immediately and you catch his face shifting beneath his mask.

'What?' he asks, 'something on my face?' he asks, clearly amused.

You say nothing for a moment, looking in Merrick's direction to see the man is a fair distance away from the pair of you.

'You remember how we met, right?' you ask, to which he nods his head, keeping his eyes surveying the area. 'When we met, you said you were a shit shot and—'

You stop when you catch Merrick looking at Keegan with a raised eyebrow. Typically, the man kept his nose out of the conversations the pair of you have; there's nothing in there for him to really understand, only bothering to join the debate when it is of importance.

In fact, he remarked that, before meeting you, Keegan was quiet- and he still is, in your humble opinion, yet, apparently his short and witty replies to your comments render all the Ghosts shocked.

The pair of them share a look, and you catch it. It's subtle, you'll give them that, but it's notable enough for you to let out a short laugh.

'What?' you slowly say.

Keegan takes a breath, turning his attention to you. He's grinning beneath the mask.

'You wanna know the truth?' he asks.

Your eyes narrow.

'What truth?'

'I lied to you when we first met,' he says.

It's as though a bullet is fired into your stomach as you look at the man in front of you. He's unmoved by his confession, carrying on as though he has said nothing to you.

'You lied to me? About what?' you ask.

Maybe it was about the fact that he really wanted to take you under his wing, maybe he was full of shit about that- what if it was a funny dare or something? You'd take the pistol out of the holster and blow your brains out if such is the case.

His calmness is insulting as he looks at you.

'Saying I was a shit shot, I'm a liar,' he says, and despite the match, you can see him smiling under it, 'was one of the best in my squad, that's how I got the attention of Elias in the first place.'

'W- Why would you lie about that?' you ask.

Your entire life seems to be a lie in a moment of overdramatic reflection.

'Because you looked like you needed someone to relate to,' he shrugs, as though it's something that means little. 'I didn't want to make you feel like you had no one there,' he says, 'the people in the squad you were in when I met were unforgiving to you, kid; they expected perfection from the minute you joined and you were capable of that because you need help and—'

'I needed you,' you state, not caring for any excuse he'd muster up.

Beneath his mask, you note the smile on his face as he nods his head.

'You said it yourself,' he chuckles.

'Didn't think you'd risk your own price to do somethin' nice,' Merrick butts in, 'suppose you did the right thing though, got one of the strongest fighters on our squad through a lie.'

Your cheeks redden at the compliment and you rub your face with your gloved hand.

'Was all worth it in the end,' Keegan shrugs.

As you push forward, per the command of Merrick, your heartbeat is ringing in your ears- it's pathetic really; you feel like a fucking high schooler as your thoughts are swarmed with the very thought that, even upon meeting you, he cared enough about you to lie to you.

You know him well enough to know that despite his quiet nature in the face of opposition and those who he doesn't know, he's a prideful man and he takes pride in his work and abilities. His confidence, while at times annoying, is something you wouldn't change in the world. His confidence keeps you alive and his confidence is the very reason you're standing beside him and fighting beside him.

After a while of silence, you look at him and nudge him with your elbow.

'Thanks for lying to me,' you say.

'You're welcome,' he answers, looking at you, 'all you needed to have was a little bit a of help- somethin' they weren't ever going to give you.'

'Why did you even approach me in the first place?'

He turns away from you for a moment, sucking in a breath. That glowing confidence seems to disappear for a moment, but after a brief second of collecting himself, he turns back to you.

'I thought you were pretty.'

You're winded, and not by the walk.

'I was a crying, snotty mess,' you blurt out, to which he rolls his eyes.

'I'd seen you around the base, and you only started crying when I starting talking to you properly. But, even if you're a crying snotty mess or not, it doesn't matter to me, kid,' he says, 'you looked pretty.'

You bite your lip, turning away from him. Unfortunately, you lack what he has in abundance. He doesn't say anything further as the you proceed to the meeting spot, instead, he slips his hand into yours, tightly squeezing it.

It's short and brief as he soon lets go at the sound of a barking dogs, although, before the pair of you jump back into action, you both offer. each other a knowing look as you prepare to paint the world red; you know his eyes are on you.

We'll talk about this later.

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