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springtyme · 6 months

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𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 ♡

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: You’re up late at night, alone and touch starved, when you get a phone call from the man you miss the most.

word count: 3.3k

warning/tag: Smut (18+, mdni!) Language. Fluff and a little angst. Mutual masturbation (phone sex). Reader is wearing one of Simon's shirts. Mention of cunnilingus, tit sucking, unprotected p in v with creampie, implied breeding kink on Simon’s side. Use of ‘good girl’.

"Girl, you know I miss you, I just wanna kiss you But I can't right now So baby kiss me through the phone”

Simon is away again and holy fuck how you miss him. Every moment feels incomplete without him by your side. The distance between you seems unbearable at times, and the ache in your heart grows with each passing day.

As you are lying in bed, wearing his t-shirt, thoughts of him consume your mind. The soft fabric against your skin carries his scent, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You imagine his smile, a smile so few people get to witness, but you are one of the few lucky ones who he let see it, you imagine his laughter. The warmth and security you feel whenever he holds you tight in his strong arms. As you replay cherished memories in your head, the longing intensifies, turning into a thumping pain in your chest, but it also brings you a sense of cathartic comfort.

If you just could call him it’ll be easier, but you can’t, you understand the need for secrecy and the importance of protecting his mission. You just have to be patient and wait till he can call you.

Now every time you hear a phone ring, your heart skips a beat. When it’s your own phone you find yourself hoping that it’s Simon on the other end, ready to reassure you that he is alright and that your fears are unfounded. But at the same time, there’s always a tinge of fear, a nagging worry that the call might bring news that your worst nightmare has come true.

And, as if on cue, as you lay and think about these things, the sound of your phone breaks through the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Your heart races, and you can’t help but wonder if it could be Simon. With trembling hands, you reach for the device, hoping beyond hope that it’s him. You glance at the screen and can’t see any number, it is an encrypted line, and a surge of emotions overwhelms you.

Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation, excitement and fear, you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, love,” Simon’s gruff voice comes through the phone. He sounds knackered, but definitely alive. His voice crackles through the line, but the sound of it instantly soothes your worries.

Relief floods over you, and tears well up in your eyes. “Hi, Si,” you greet him, trying to keep your emotions somewhat in check so you don’t use the precious time you get to talk to him bawling your eyes out.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” His deep voice, laced with concern.

“No, you didn’t,” you reassure him, not that you would have given a damn if he had, you’re just happy to hear his voice, alive and well.

“Well, you should be sleeping, I hope you’re taking care of yourself, love,” Simon says, his voice filled with genuine concern. “How have you been holding up?”

A mix of emotions floods over you at his question. You appreciate his thoughtfulness, knowing that despite the dangers he faces, he still worries about your well-being. But at the same time, you don’t want to burden him with your own struggles and fears.

“Well, you know me, I’ve been managing,” you reply, trying to sound strong. Afterall, he is the one who is facing danger and dodging bullets, not you. “Just looking forward to having you back.”

Simon laughs softly, his deep voice filled with warmth. “I look forward to that too, love. But I promise, I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll have a proper cuppa together in no time, I’ll make sure we don’t have to deal with any of this long-distance rubbish for a while.”

You can’t help but smile, a mix of love and longing in your heart. “I’ll hold you to that, I’ll keep the kettle ready. And I’ll make sure to get some proper biscuits this time.”

You had bought some fancy biscuits with rosemary and bergamot once, and Simon had absolutely hated them. Not that he had expressed it like that; he had been very polite about it, carefully trying to mask his distaste for the treats. However, you could see right through him. You had run down to the corner shop under your flat and bought some milk choc hobnobs, cause despite looking like a big scary bloke your boyfriend has the tastebuds of a child.

“That sounds good,” Simon says, a longing sigh coming through the phone.

The simple thought of sharing a cup of tea with Simon brings a smile to your face. It’s the simple moments like those that you cherish the most, the moments of normalcy amidst the chaos that his career brings. But it also makes you miss other things to do with Simon.

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, as your heart yearns for him you let a short silence unfold between you before you continue, your voice now sounding a little lower and more breathy. “I miss you, Simon.”

There is a brief pause before Simon responds, his voice filled with a mix of longing and determination, and holy fuck how you love that voice. You feel heat creep up your cheeks, at the sound, warmth pooling in your stomach, spreading through your body like a wildfire with longing for him. “I miss you too, love. Can’t wait to hold you again.”

A surge of anticipation courses through you, and you can’t help but let your voice drop to a sultry whisper. “Yeah, I look forward to that.”

Simon’s voice takes on a husky tone as he reads your switch in mood. “Consider it a guarantee, love. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you, show you just how much I’ve missed you, okay?”

“Mmm.” You hum to let him know that you are hearing him, but it comes out closer to a moan really.

A brief silence hangs in the air between you before you break the silence again.

“Si…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” you confess, the words escaping your lips with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

There is a short pause between you, one that feels way longer than it actually is, before Simon finally says something. “Which one, darling?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity and anticipation, as if he can already picture you wearing it.

“Your Zeppelin one,” you confess.

You can hear how Simon’s breath quickens on the other end of the line, becoming more throaty and shallow. His voice, when he finally speaks, is filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

“Yeah?” he responds, his tone laced with anticipation.

“Yeah, it smells like you,” you whisper down the phone. “I just miss you so much.”

There’s a moment of silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Simon replies, his voice filled with the same desire that echoes within you. “Believe me, love, the feeling is mutual.”

His words carry a warmth that wraps around you, bridging the physical distance between you both. It also makes a warm sensation swoop through your stomach, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together as you begin to feel a warm throbbing between your legs.

“I wish you were here,” you say, meaning it from the bottom of your heart.

Simon lets out a low chuckle, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Yeah, me too, love, you have no idea. But I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

Squirming slightly in your seat by his words, the warm throbbing of your cunt increases. You take a deep breath grabbing the fabric of his shirt to bring it up to your nose, the scent of him lingers, providing a sense of comfort and reassurance but also making you miss having him close so much more, making you crave it.

“Are you alone?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Yes.”

“Wanna tell me what you’re going to do to me when you come home?” You feel a swoop of anticipation run through you as you ask him.

The sound of Simon swallowing audibly comes through the phone, his voice filled with anticipation.

You put your phone on speaker, placing it on a pillow beside you.

“I’d take my time with you,” his voice crackles through the speaker, deep and raspy. “I’d start by kissing that sweet mouth of yours. I’d drink up all those little moans you always make for me. You have no idea how much they turn me on. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I hear them, making me so fucking hard, baby. and I’ll have to get up to rub one out.”

And as if on cue you let out a whiny moan as you imagine him in his tactical trousers, the imposing bulge of his hard-on restrained against the fabric, how his big hand will squeeze it though the garment.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says with a sound that you think was supposed to be a laugh but ends up sounding more like a throaty groan. You hear the clang of metal through the phone, like a belt being unbuckled.

“I’d kiss you until we are both out of breath, until we would have to break apart, maybe even a little longer. Fuck, miss kissing you so much, lovie.”

“Miss that too,” you whimper, your hands now on your breasts, softly squeezing them through the soft cotton of Simon’s shirt as you rub your thighs together, feeling how the throbbing of your cunt reaches a whole new high, your panties getting more and more damp.

“I’d start going down, kiss your jaw and down your neck,” Simon continues.

Your breath hitches, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You can almost feel how your skin tingles in the places Simon describes kissing.

“I’d keep going down, kiss you everywhere, love. Let myself taste just how sweet that body of yours is,” he groans softly.

As his words reach your ears, a vivid image takes shape in your mind. You can picture the way he would hold you. How he would slowly trace every contour, every curve, as he maps out your skin with his lips and tongue, savouring the taste and texture of your skin, leaving a trail of desire in his wake.

“I’d take those pretty tits in my mouth, give them the attention they deserve.”

You let out a little squeal as you imagine his tongue around your nipples, licking and sucking at your sensitive nubs.

“Then I’d have you laid back on the bed, all naked and spread out for me. I’d get between your thighs and eat that sweet pussy out just how I know you like it, wouldn’t stop until you’ve gushed all over my face.”

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself instinctively responding to the memory. You can feel the weight of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your head tilts back, lost in the sensations that flood your imagination. The mere thought of his touch elicits a tantalising twitch of pleasure through your body, a physical manifestation of the connection you share.

You let your legs part, spreading them wide on the soft mattress, and you let your non-dominant hand creep down the soft fabric of the Simon’s shirt, continuing lower until you reach the hem of the garment and slides it up under the shirt, slowly tracing your fingers up over the warm skin of your naked abdomen and up through the valley of your tits, until you cup your breast again, this time without the barrier of the shirt, gently squeezing at the soft flesh before you start playing with your hardened nipple. Your dominant hand is wandering down to your panties, the pads of your fingers gently tracing a line over the now soaked fabric. You haven’t been this wet in a while, at least not since Simon left for deployment.

Through the speakers of your phone, you hear him curse softly, his voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. The distance between you feels unbearable, as the desire to be together intensifies with each passing moment. As you close your eyes, your imagination takes flight, allowing you to indulge in the sweet memories of your bodies entwined. The anticipation builds, fueling the fire within.

Now feeling so damned desperate you dip your hand into your panties, slowly sliding your fingers through your wet folds, coating them with your arousal, before you start to, oh so slowly, circling around your clit.

“I’d let myself drown in that sweet, sweet pussy of yours. Sweetest, fucking thing I’ve ever had. I can still taste it whenever I think about it,” he continues. His tone is damn near dangerous, so low and growly. You almost cum from the thought alone, the thought of being completely at his mercy. “What about you, love? What would you do with me if I was there?” He coaxes you.

“I’d let you have me however you want me. I miss having you inside me so bad, Si,” You admit with a whimper.

“Oh, missing my cock that much, lovie?” he teases, but there is a tenderness and a longing hidden behind his words.

“Mmm.” You nod even though he can’t see it. “I miss all of you, Si.”

The sounds of him pumping himself is now audible through the phone. The sound is making you even more desperate to have him back. You can’t help but imagine him, his big fist sliding up and down that big girthy cock of his, the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, throbbing and dripping with precum, just for you.

“Fu-uuck, what I wouldn’t give to be inside you right now, sweetheart.” he almost growls, making you whimper. “I’d make you feel so good, baby. Turn you into a babbling cock drunk mess.” Simon’s voice grows huskier, filled with primal desire. “I’d fill you up so good, again and again until you you’d be fucking dripping, with my cum.” He growls down the phone. “Fill you up and give you a piece of me to carry, a piece of me you could have forever. Fu-uuck, and everyone would know that I’m yours, that we belong together.”

A soft moan escapes your mouth as you imagine the scenario he’s describing. Your fingers now moving in fast tight circles around your sensitive clit.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, huh, love?” His voice, dripping with hunger and desperation, and you whine out for him, giving him those sweet sounds that you know makes him go feral.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Fuuck, doing so good for me.”

A hot shiver runs up your spine at the praise. You remove your fingers from your clit, instead sliding them down a little further, making your panties push down your hips to instead dwell around your thighs. You drag your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your wetness before you slide first one then two fingers inside of your pussy. You bring your other hand, that until now had occupied your sensitive nipples, down to your clit, flickering the sensitive nub while you pump into yourself wishing that it was Simon’s skilled fingers or girthy cock that was thrusting into you instead. His name starts spilling from your lips in a line of whiny moans.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty,” he sounds like he is as close to ecstasy as you are, his voice low and breathy. “Are you close, baby?”

“Ye-yeah, so close, Si,” you pant. The slick sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt ring in your ears and you know that Simon must be able to hear it over the phone.

“I’m close too, love. Can you cum for me, sweetheart? We can cum together. Imagine me filling up that sweet little pussy, have you dripping with my cum, yeah?”

“Yes, Simon, want that so bad,” you moan, “Fu-uck, I’m so close, Si.”

“That’s good. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he groans. “Come on, baby, cum with me.”

You moan out his name as your walls clench around your fingers, your other hand flicking over your clit in a fast steady rhythm as you feel how the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps, your orgasm rushing through you in hot, blissful waves as you fuck yourself through your high. You can hear Simon’s throaty moans coming over the phone, cursing and panting under his breath as you both ride out your climaxes.

Your walls flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high. Aftershocks are still pumping through your cunt as you slowly pull your soaked fingers out, wiping them off on the sheets. You’ll change them in the morning, but right now you can’t be bothered.

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Simon’s voice crackles through the phone again. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good, Si, really good, just wished you were here to feel good with me.” You grab the phone, turning it off speaker again and bringing it up to your ear. You lay yourself down on your side, curling up on yourself as you let your body sink into the soft mattress. You pull the duvet over you, suddenly feeling very tired and alone, wishing that Simon was there to cuddle with you.

“Yeah, I’d like that too.” His voice sounds much softer now.

A little silence falls over you, the both of you needing to land again and you both feel the other’s absence all the more now, but you don’t want to stop talking with Simon, not when you finally can, but you also know that he only has limited time for phone calls. You just have to stay strong until you finally have him back again.

“Si?”

“Yes, love?” Simon responds, his deep voice gentle and reassuring.

“Come back to me safe?” you plead, the weight of worry evident in your words.

A small pause follows. Then, Simon’s voice breaks through, filled with determination and devotion. “Love, I’ll come crawling back to you if I have to.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, the intensity of Simon’s promise sinking into your heart. Tears well up in your eyes as you whisper, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Simon.” The vulnerability in your voice echoes the depth of your emotions, the fear of losing him almost too much to bear.

Simon’s voice softens, filled with tenderness as he responds, “You won’t have to find out, love.”

Though you still worry about him, you let his words offer you solace for now.

“It’s getting late,” Simon’s voice comes through with a hint of playfulness. “I think it’s time for you to get some beauty sleep.”

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle at his teasing tone, despite your worry for him, feeling the warmth of his affection even through the phone. “Oh, so you think I need beauty sleep, huh?” you reply, a mischievous twinkle in your voice.

Simon chuckles softly. “Well, only because you’re already the most beautiful person I know, and I want you to wake up even more radiant tomorrow.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, lieutenant Riley,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice and he chuckles softly at your remark. “Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” you ask softly, a gentle plea in your voice.

“Of course, love,” Simon replies, his words full of unwavering devotion. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

A sense of comfort washes over you, knowing that even when miles apart, Simon is there for you. The ache in your heart is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the knowledge that Simon is safe, for now.

Closing your eyes, you listen to the steady sound of his breathing, a reminder of his presence and the love that binds you together. In this moment, sleep comes easier, your worries momentarily eased by the knowledge that you are not alone.

As you drift off into dreams, you hold onto the promise that soon you will be reunited, and the ache in your heart will be replaced with the joy of being in Simon’s arms once again.

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adaelines · 1 year

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afab but gender neutral reader, horny as fuck smut, ada and leon competing for your attention! theyre both in love with you and wanna prove that you should be theirs.. wrote this in one night bc i wanna fuck both of them so bad lmao

To others, working with two people with as much renown as Ada and Leon might seem lucky. Missions with Leon always go easy, he's known for his strength and capability. A mission with Leon by your side is always a good mission, no matter the danger, you know he's there to protect you. Ada is the same, the few that know her naming her deadly, a woman who isn't afraid to do anything she needs to get what she wants. You know that all too well, just how stubborn she can be when she truly wants something.

You've known Leon longer, worked with him enough times to even call him a friend, but you can't deny the immediate spark you feel everytime Ada 'intrudes' on your missions, as Leon puts it. He always seems so bitter towards her, and anytime you're involved, it seems to turn almost malicious. Leon would never hurt her unless provoked to, you know that, but the way his eyes turn dark and he stands between you, almost shielding you from her, you can't help but feel like there's something more going on.

What you don't know, don't see, is the way they both rush to be the one by your side, the one to help you up if an enemy downs you, the one to defend you. They both want you to see them as someone you can trust, someone you can rely on with anything.

Leon is more gentle, forward. A soft smile that's reserved for only you and firm touches, a hand on your back whilst he guides you, always stood between you and anything he sees as dangerous, even the woman he currently sees himself at war with. Like a guard dog, willing to do anything if it means keeping you safe, he's always the one backing you up in any conflict and watching.

Ada, however, is more discreet. She protects you just as much, watches and never lets you come into danger that's avoidable, never lets anyone else get in the way of your mission. Defeating enemies before they can see you, before you can see them, locking doors if she thinks what's behind it is too dangerous for you. She knows you can take care of yourself, that you're strong, but she likes knowing you're safe, that she helped in keeping you safe.

Between them, you were very rarely in danger. Even when you did end up fighting someone, usually with no other choice, you saw the way Leon's eyes darkened, like a cornered, feral dog. He's dangerous, and he proves it when you're involved. Ada is the same. You don't get to see her fight as much, you're not partners with her like you are Leon, but there was a time you and her ended up together alone, and you saw just how strong she was, how far she was willing to go for you.

The unfounded, in your opinion, rivalry is how you ended up where you were, practically sitting on Leon's lap as you leant back against him, Ada knelt between your legs with her arms wrapped under your thighs, her grip firm. You were meant to be focused on a mission, but a situation that left you a little too close to danger for their liking ended up with them needing to punish you, as they put it.

Your shirt was bunched above your chest, shoved up by Leon's hands, currently groping your chest harshly, pinching your nipples and holding the fat of your chest tight. His grip was so rough it left you whining, head thrown back against his shoulder, which gave him the perfect angle to kiss along your jaw, your neck. His affection made Ada hum against your cunt, a noise that told you she was less than pleased. Her nose was buried in the wiry hair, mouth altering between your clit and hole.

Ada's gaze was overwhelming, her eyes full of fire and utter need. From her place between your thighs, she could see everything Leon was doing to you, and it only caused her to work harder. She wanted to be the one to make you feel good, it was going to be her name you moaned, not some dumb puppy's who didn't know how to treat you properly.

"C'mon, won't you be good for me, sweet thing?" Ada's voice was sultry, and when you opened your eyes to look to at her, you couldn't help the moan you let out. Her touch, her words, the utter love and affection in her eyes… It was almost too much, and if it wasn't for Leon's sharp pinch of your nipples, you could have gotten lost in her.

"For you? As if," Leon's voice was gruff in return, teeth gently resting on your pulse, "You still think too much of yourself, it's not going to be you they're good for."

The whine you let out in response was loud, one hand coming up to tangle in Ada's hair, the other placed on Leon's forearm. Your grip on both of them was tight, tight enough that you knew it would hurt, but you were too distracted, too out of it to even notice, not that they complained about your nails digging into them.

In response, Leon bit down on your neck, harsh enough to hurt, to leave a mark of his teeth that'll last a while, a reminder of who left it there and the position you were currently in. Ada simply chuckled, a low noise that vibrated against you, and flattened her tongue to lick from your hole up to your clit. She may have been on her knees before you, but she was completely in control over you, owned you, as she would put it.

Between them like this, the overwhelming attention from both of them, it was so much. You wanted to close your eyes, hide away from them, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Leon's large hands on your chest, his mouth on your neck and shoulders, all while Ada ate you out like a woman starved, like she was lost in a desert and you were the only respite.

"C'mon, stop looking at her," Leon's voice was low in your ear, quiet enough that Ada wouldn't hear, "You're mine, right? I own you and this cunt. No one could ever make you feel as good as i can. Prove it."

"C-an't! 's too much…!"

Your voice was shaky, an octave higher than usual thanks to the attention you were receiving.

"It's okay, sweetheart, moan my name and I'll stuff you full, you just need my cock, huh? Such a sweet thing, I'll ruin you.."

Ada let out a low hum against your clit, bringing one hand from your thigh to gently press against your hole. Her gaze went to Leon, almost glaring and full of malice, before returning to you, returning to the loving, affectionate focus for you. She couldn't hear Leon, but she could tell he was trying to get your attention away from her, away from her touch and tongue against you.

Just as Leon moved in to kiss you, Ada pushed her fingers inside of you, harsh and quick enough for you to let out a loud whine and jolt. She quickly cooed an apology, voice almost mocking.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. Was that too much? Just can't help myself, it's not my fault you're just too cute… I just want to make you feel good, make you all mine…"

Leon didn't react well to that, not by the tight pinch he gave your nipple, the low noise he made against your neck was almost a growl. Calling him possessive would be an understatement, covering you in hickies and bruises that marked you as his and his, even with the woman between your thighs. To him, she wasn't there, she wasn't the one making you feel good, he was, and that's all he cared about.

Even as you got closer to release, as your pleasure climbed and all you could focus on was humping against Ada's face, holding Leon's arm as tight as you could, you could feel the competition between them, feel that they each wanted to prove to you just who could make you feel best.

Leon's lips were right against your ear, whispering how good you were being for him, even looking so slutty you were so gorgeous, won't you be mine? I'll take care of you, make you feel good, you'll never have to raise a finger again. I'll do anything for you, y'know? all you have to do is cum for me, only for me, you'll be so happy together… be a good whore and cum. I'll fuck you hard, fast, rough, anything you want. You'll be so dumb off of my cock you won't even be able to think about anything else, only how deep inside of you I can reach.

His words, mixed with Ada's attention to your clit, her fingers pressing into you harshly, filling you as much as she could, promises of more, of what she can do for you, to you, quickly finished your off, your back arching against Leon's chest, both hands gripping tightly, one still in Ada's hair, the other still on Leon's arm. Both of them let out their own noises as you came. Leon a quiet groan, eyes closing as he gently pressed kisses against your jaw, whilst Ada moaned against you, eyes closed tight as she drank everything you offered, holding you as close to her face as she could, even when you tried to jolt away in overstimulation.

Ada pulled away, the grim on her face proud, still full of desire.

"What a good little thing for me, you taste so delicious too…"

"Excuse me? For you? No, that was all for me…"

They weren't done with you, with their competition for your affection. It was going to be a very long night.

#god im so normal about them #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #ada wong #ada wong smut #ada wong x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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cy-cyborg · 3 months

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The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation

The Jaws Effect is the name of a phenomenon that described the panic and fear that sprang up around sharks, fuelled by Steven Spielberg's movie, Jaws. While the fear of sharks and other marine predators had always been a thing, Jaws launched the fear of sharks, and Great White Sharks in particular, to new (and mostly unfounded) heights. Most people will never encounter a real-life shark and so their only knowledge about the creatures come from movies and other forms of entertainment. Entertainment that largely portrayed them as mindless, unfeeling killing machines. After Jaws, sharks became a staple in the creature-feature genre of movies, which only perpetuated the idea of sharks as dangerous monsters even further, reigniting and reconfirming the beliefs the public held about them in the process. These ideas about sharks are, of course, not true, but the misconception and fear has had a real, observable impacts on shark populations, shark conservation efforts and even laws and legislations surrounding sharks and shark conservation around the world.

Ok but Cy, this is a blog about disability and disabled representation, what do sharks have to do with anything you talk about? Well, Because The Jaws Effect is just one of many examples that shows how massive of an impact representation in the media can have, for better or for worse, especially when talking about subjects the public generally knows very little about.

This conversation is not unique to disability representation, nearly every person I've seen who's talked about how to write and design characters from any minority brings it up eventually, but the media we consume, the movies we watch, the books we read can all have big impacts on people's perceptions on those topics. When talking about disability specifically, it's an unfortunate reality that not many people know all that much about us, and so, much like sharks, for many, their only real exposure to disabled people is through the media they consume.

If you don't know anyone in a wheelchair, and your only knowledge of life as a wheelchair user comes from books and movies like Me Before You, of course you're going to (spoiler) come away thinking that life in a wheelchair is horrible and death is better than living like that. If you don't know any DID Systems and your only exposure to a condition like that is through movies like Split (and honestly, a number of other horror movies and crime shows) of course you'll think people with DID are unstable monsters who could become violent any moment. If your only exposure to autistic people is Music, then it's not shocking that you might think Autistic people are "trapped in their own minds," completely unaware of the world around them and lacking any kind of agency. As much as I'd like to be able to say these are "just movies" or "just books," and that if we don't like them, we can just not watch them, they all had an impact on the real world and real people's perceptions of the disabilities they depicted, as do the many, many smaller examples of bad representation.

This is why I personally spend so much time focused on the portrayal of disability in the media, why so much of my content is focused on creating resources for creators to represent us better, and why I think writers, artists and other types of creators should care about the representation they include.

Unfortunately, people believing misinformation and stereotypes, while annoying, isn't the worst of the impacts bad rep can have. If a stereotype is prevalent enough, and enough people believe it, it can both put us in harms way and cause us to loose access to things we desperately need and things designed to help us. One really common example of this is when movies and TV shows show a character getting up out of their wheelchair, and use this as proof that the person is faking being disabled. However, in reality, there are many disabilities that might mean someone has to use a wheelchair, even if they can still walk a little bit or stand up. The stereotype of someone standing up from their chair being a fake, especially when it's reinforced over and over again in the media, leads non-disabled people to believe that anyone who stands up from their wheelchair is faking, and results in a lot of real disabled people being harassed and denied things like access to disabled parking, toilets and other accessible spaces. There were even a few cases of people reporting those they see get out of their wheelchairs to Centrelink (The Australian "welfare" department, for those not familiar) as frauds, and while these investigations don't usually go far before someone realises what's happened, it has, on occasion, resulted in people loosing the income they depend on to survive, even temporarily.

But the impact of representation, of course, can go both ways.

I was in high school when the first How To Train Your Dragon movie came out, and at the time, I didn't really like people being able to see that I was a leg amputee because I was sick of kids in particular staring, pointing at me, asking their parents "what's wrong with them?" or asking me directly, "what's wrong with your legs?". I wore long skirts and big, bulky tracksuit pants to keep my legs covered, something that became dangerous in the hot Australian summer, but I didn't care.

But the impact of How to Train Your Dragon came in two ways. The first, was that it was one of the first times I'd seen an amputee (or rather, multiple amputees) who didn't keep their prosthetics covered or hidden, and it gave me the little boost in confidence I needed to do that myself and wear clothing that was more comfortable and functional. And second, the comments from children changed, albeit slightly, but enough that it was noticeable. The questions and comments went from "what's wrong with you?" to "oh cool, your legs are like Hiccup's!" I even had one little girl ask me once if I had a pet night fury. They went from being scared of me and my legs, or at the very least concerned for me, to genuinely curious and impressed. While reactions like that did become less and less common over time, they didn't fully go away either. Even today, I occasionally get young kids asking me why I have legs like hiccup. A friend of mine who was born with one arm shorter than the other and without fingers on that side had a similar experience with the movie Finding Nemo. Her disability was a bit more complex than what I described here, and she always found it hard to explain "what happened" to small children, however, after Finding Nemo came out, she was able to simply tell kids "this is my lucky fin, like what nemo has!" and that was enough to take her from someone "scary" to these kids to someone like their favourite characters.

Of course, it's much easier to see the impact positive representation can have on people's perceptions when we're talking about kids media, but it's not exclusive to it either.

When it comes to a minority like the disabled community who are so thoroughly misunderstood by the wider public, misinformation can and does spread easily. What people see and read in the media they consume plays a big roll in how people perceive the real people attached to the stereotypes. We often hear people say "Fiction imitates life" but the reverse can and often is also true, life can imitate and be influenced by fiction, and those of us creating should be mindful of this, especially when we're talking about a group of vulnerable people.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustration of a Great White Shark swimming near the rocky bottom of the ocean, surrounded by silver fish. In the bottom left corner of the image is "The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation" in big, white bubble text. /End ID]

#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg #Disability 101 #Long Post #Disability #Disabled #Disability Representation #Writing Disability #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Creators #Writing Advice #Disabled Characters #Disability History #On Writing #Disability in Media

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radiance1 · 8 months

Text

Ok I have woken up and had food.

Consider:

The Justice League have to defend earth from an oncoming alien invasion, but at the same time there had to prevent a summoning for an ancient evil in the form of a Ghost King.

The time frame for both events was exceedingly short.

So what did they decide to do?

Interrupt the summoning and instead make a deal with the Ghost King to aid them in the alien invasion.

When they do summon him, however, the Ghost King seemed offput that he was even summoned at all, despite the previous track record of him waging war with various worlds.

Pariah, looking at Superman: Ah, I have heard about you, child of Steel.

Superman: [Confusion]

So the Ghost King agrees to help them, to repay a favor that was owned to his parents. Everyone, even Superman thought it had to due with his parents on Krypton that, ya'know, exploded and are questioning what kind of thing they did to get the Ghost King to owe them a favor.

When the day of the Alien invasion came too, they expected either the Ghost King coming down himself, one of his soldiers or a small portion of his army.

Oh, they got an army alright. But not the army they expected.

The Ghost King himself even appeared, in Farmer's attire no less. He struck that pose where a person leaned back and looked to the sky and shouted a war cry, followed by loud, maniacal laughter.

Pariah: GO FORTH MY CHILDREN! DROWN THE EARTH IN THE BLOOD OF YOUR FOES AND BRING HELL DOWN UPON THOSE WHO DARED TEST YOUR MIGHT!

And what followed after his war cry was a flood of horses, both living and undead, covered in ghostly armor that ran through the streets and ascended into the sky to fend off the alien invasion throughout the city.

Of course, the Justice League also fought alongside the Ghost King's 'army' and succeeded in defending earth from the alien invasion. Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, none of the Ghost King's horses faced any significant injury.

Of course, the news took to it like sharks that smelled a drop of blood within the sea currents. Questions of who the meta is, where they found him and if he were a newfound member of the Justice League, some of the rich even asked if the Justice League could acquire them one of the horses.

Not that Pariah Dark, resident Ghost King and Farmer on earth, would let anyone by any of his children. They wouldn't even know how to or put in the proper care for them!

The favor he owned to Superman's parents weren't of his Kryptonian heritage, no. It was instead a one-sided repayment to the Kent's for gifting him a few rare living horses he didn't know how to acquire, they said he didn't need to pay them back, but he couldn't just leave such considerate and valuable gifts such as these without giving something in return.

Such opportunity came in the form of defending their home planet from an alien invasion.

On another note, the Kent's recognized the man on the internet is currently going crazy about as one of their neighbors. They were worried when they saw him on the scene, and after asked if he was okay.

Pariah(In human form): Foolish mortals, your worries on unfounded.

Clock 'well versed in Pariah decoding' work(in human form): He's very touched by your concern.

Pariah, feeling his face heat up in what human's call blush: My love!

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp

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sunny44 · 4 months

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The exes club

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex!reader, ex wags x fem!reader

Warnings: ex wags.

Summary: Where all the ex wags are best friends.

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @maxverstappen, @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna and other 174829

Yourusername the exes club is reunited again

Ps: for sure the best part of ours relationship

Tagged: @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna

Isahernáez I miss this so much

Yourusername and I missed you

Luisinhaoliveira love you babes

Yourusername love you more girlfriend

Maxverstappen I can see you’re having fun

Liked by Yourusername

Love4wags I love that the best wags are bestfriends

Mv33fan I miss y/n and Max together

User81 I hate the fact that y/n explicitly say that she doesn’t like the current wag

F1lovelywags

Model Y/n Y/L/N talking about the comments of her not liking the new wags.

Y/n was Max Verstappen's girlfriend until a few months ago when they decided to end their relationship.

She and the other ex-WAGs were often seen together in the paddock during race weekends, emphasizing that they were and still are best friends.

Fans are now commenting on her latest post, suggesting that she dislikes the new WAGs just because she shared that she and the other exes were out having fun.

Yourusername instagram stories

“It’s race weekend”

I was invited to attend the weekend in Monza.

It had been a while since I attended any races; it lost its appeal after Max and I broke up. We decided it was for the best, as my modeling career consumed all my time, just like his racing career did to him.

We no longer had time for each other, and it was driving us apart. So, the best decision for both of us was to take a break, which ultimately led to the end.

But here I was again, at a race, hoping everything would go well without any stress.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N." I turned around to see someone from SKY Sports. "Could you give a brief interview?"

"Of course," I agreed, controlling to not roll my eyes as giving interviews was the last thing I wanted to do today.

"We saw your statement in your latest YouTube video regarding the comments on your posts. Do you have anything to declare?"

"As I said in the video, I'm not obligated to like anyone, even if that's what fans think. I don't personally know any of the girls, so the comments are unfounded, defamatory, and malicious," I said, looking into the camera. "I've always been friends with the other girls, and our friendship might have started here due to our ex-boyfriends working in the same field. But our friendship goes beyond that, so the fact that these so-called fans are bothered by something so trivial truly amazes me. Once again, I have nothing against anyone, so I ask you to stop trying to portray me as the villain just because you don't like me."

"Very well, thank you Y/n, for your words," I agreed and left.

I continued walking, stopped for a coffee, and on my way back, Daniel waved at me.

"Y/n, long time no see."

"Hi, Dani," I hugged him. "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good too, just the usual dramas."

"I saw; people don't have much sense.”

"Don't even talk about it. I don't know where people get this rivalry. It's not like I said anything about them in the post."

"Don't worry about it. Fans are just jealous because all of you dated who they wanted. The girls are getting hate now for dating them."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I sighed. "It's terrible for all of us. Max and I aren't even dating anymore, and people still hassle me."

"I can imagine. Heidi sometimes shows me some comments, and they're pretty nasty."

"Well, I need to go, but good luck in the race," I waved. Passing in front of the Red Bull garage, I was pulled inside, and when I saw, I was in Max's driver's room. "What the hell is this?"

"I wanted to see you," he said simply.

"And did you need to pull me in like you were kidnapping me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you and I wanted as few people as possible to see."

"Why? Are you ashamed?"

"Of course not." He stared at me. "How are you?"

"Look, you didn't pull me in here to ask how I am, and I know it was your idea to invite me, even though you tried really hard to make it seem like it wasn't," I said, and he looked at the floor. "So tell me, why so much effort to bring me here?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you."

"You could have called me or sent a message."

"I know, but I needed to say this in person," I agreed and sat on his bed.

"All right, I'm listening."

"I wanted to apologize for my fans. I heard about what happened with your last post, and I didn’t wanted you to go through all this because of me."

"It's not your fault."

"Are you sure? The fans are mine."

"It doesn't matter; they're not your real fans if they're such nasty people," he agreed. "It's okay."

Max sighed, briefly averting his gaze before fixing it back on mine.

"Y/n, I need to be honest about the other reason I brought you here," I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I still love you, more than I can admit. Seeing you dealing with all this pressure and drama made me realize that, even with everything that happened between us, I can't just let you go. Not again."

My heart raced, and a smile formed on my face.

"Max, I feel the same way. I think, deep down, we never stopped loving each other. Maybe it's time to give what we had a second chance."

He smiled back, sincerity reflected in his eyes.

"Y/n, I just want to do this the right way, without rushing, and make sure we're both ready." I nodded, feeling a profound sense of relief.

"I'm willing to give it a try, Max. After all, what do we have to lose?"

And in the end, I guess I put an end to the exes club.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“Ops, I guess the exes club is over for me”

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surelymortal · 2 years

Text

Think I’m partially in denial. I feel like my symptoms aren’t severe enough to warrant a chronic illness, even though it all lines up. Or maybe there’s part of me that doesn’t believe I’m ill at all. Unsure.

#like idk #happy i was listened to at counseling but the therapist was quick to say my concerns sounded a lot like schizophrenia #like psychosis i knew obviously #and it's not like she tacked on a diagnosis yet or anything so that might be wrong #but i was surprised my symptoms seemed so obvious I guess?#the idea that i might be dealing with something chronic is scary #but also ive already been dealing with it on my own for 7 years so i guess it isn't all that different #tw delusions up ahead #i do think there's a part of me that doesnt believe im ill because the things happening feel so real to me #that all of these complicated things happening are just made up by my mind feels implausible #like none of it's true? there's really NO ONE after me? it feels so unlikely that all my beliefs are unfounded #like if no one is watching me why do i feel eyes all the time you know #i get that is part of psychosis but fuck #mortal's public diary

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edenesth · 4 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [5]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 4 | Fic Masterlist | Part 6

"She's severely malnourished, and the injuries on her body tell us that she's undergone quite the abuse, seemingly for years. But I assume you already deduced that much, yes?" Yunho stated as he turned to your husband.

Seonghwa nodded grimly, "Yes, unfortunately. Is there anything you can do to help with all the marks?"

"Given the lack of proper treatment for so long, most of her wounds have only worsened, resulting in permanent scars from various infections. I'll do my best to treat as much as I can, but please understand that I won't be able to eliminate most of these scars." The physician explained, not wanting to give the general any false hope of restoring your skin back to its original form.

Thankfully, Seonghwa wasn't naturally inclined to optimism, and he didn't care to entertain the idea of a miracle. He sighed, "I understand, Yunho. It doesn't matter to me if the scars remain, just... make all the pain go away for her. That's all that matters."

Though possibly surprised, Yunho didn't reveal it in his expression. That might have been the sweetest sentiment he had ever heard from the general. He nodded, "Very well. I'll need a few tools and herbs to prepare her tonic and ointment. Should I stay in the usual quarters until my work is complete?"

Eager to see her mistress recover quickly, the head maid was ready for action. She stood up as soon as her master addressed her, "Eunsook, you know what to do. Organise a team of servants to assist Physician Jung with everything he requires and prepare his usual accommodation."

Without having to be told twice, she swiftly moved to leave Seonghwa's room, "Yes, master! Please come with me, Physician Jung." The general watched as everyone exited his private quarters, leaving him alone with you.

Bringing a chair beside the bed, he seated himself next to you and mustered the courage to hold your hand. Gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, he felt a pang in his heart, realising that it was far from how the hand of someone your age should be – smooth and flawless. Instead, it bore the marks of what he could only imagine as endless pain.

Reflecting on the unfounded accusations he had hurled at you after your sincere expression of gratitude during dinner, he wished he could turn back time and retract his words, if only it were possible. As if your life hadn't already been hell, he had only made it worse for you.

Suddenly, the notion of you being genuinely happy with The Cold Palace didn't seem so far-fetched. After all, who could fathom the inhumane living conditions you had endured for all those years? However, this realisation brought him no comfort; the fact that your life back in the Jang estate was so bad that you had to express gratitude for being given such a place was heartbreaking.

Seonghwa was jolted from his thoughts when he sensed your weak hand squeezing his. Looking up, he noticed your anguished expression as you cried in your sleep, your voice brokenly uttering, "I'm sorry..."

He felt his heart clench at the sight, prompting him to move and sit closer to you on the bed. Lifting his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes down your cheeks, "Hey, it's alright... You're safe now." He whispered, returning the soft squeeze to your hand.

As if aware of his presence, your eyes snapped open in alarm, and a whimper of fear escaped you as you saw him. For the first time in a long while, the general found no satisfaction in the fear reflected in someone's eyes. You gasped upon realising that the lifeline you were clinging to was him, noticing your hand in his.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried harder when you realised your marks were still fully on display. Pulling your hand away from his, you grasped the sheets around you and clutched them close.

Despite the disappointment he felt at the absence of your hand, he didn't have time to dwell on it with your little panic attack. To ground you, he cupped your face with his hands, "Look at me," and you complied, your trembling eyes meeting his gaze, "Stop apologising and tell me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I-I'm sorry for all this," You gestured miserably to your own body, "I'm hideous. I'm tainted. I'm n-not good enough to be your wife, a-and I never will be. I-I don't deserve happiness... I was foolish to think I could find it h-here... with you."

Shaking his head, he caressed your hollow cheekbones, staring firmly into your eyes, "No, you listen to me. Never think that again. I forbid you from believing you're hideous or tainted or anything ridiculous like that. Whoever dares say you're not good enough to be my wife can go to hell because you're the only one I want. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I will give you just that. You're not foolish to think that. I'll prove it to you."

Leaving you speechless, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you before you could muster a response, pulling you close. The sudden warmth felt foreign but good, and you nestled your face into his broad shoulder, allowing yourself to relish the moment.

Am I dreaming? Feels too good to be true.

Marvelling at the luxurious interior of this beautiful room, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a product of your imagination. How could any of this be real?

The last memory you had was the general storming angrily into your room and ripping your hanbok open. After seeing you in your truest form, how could he have ended up acting this way towards you? It didn't make sense; he should have been disgusted and hostile. Instead, here he was, seemingly accepting you.

Exhausted from a lifetime of pain, you lacked the energy to question the reality of your situation. Even if it were just a dream, you decided to embrace it and savour the experience. On the other hand, if this was reality, you knew you had the rest of your life to understand his change of heart.

All that really mattered now was that the pain and the suffering stopped. If Seonghwa truly accepts you as his wife, the reason behind it doesn't seem important. You would simply be grateful for his kindness, or perhaps sympathy—whatever it was, you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

So long as there's no more pain.

With that decision made, you set aside the lingering questions in your mind and focused on how comforting it felt to be held in a warm embrace like this. A contented sigh escaped you as you whispered against him, "Thank you, my lord."

He responded by tightening his hold around your frame, gently cradling the back of your head with a hand, "No, don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to deserve that from you. I've been horrible, the absolute worst. And for that, I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry, my dear. I promise you, I'll make up for it."

When you attempted to voice your protest, he halted you with a knowing shake of his head, "I know I may seem like an angel in comparison to the people who have... done all those horrendous things to you, but I won't lie and say that I'm proud of myself for the way I acted. You're important too, okay? You're the general's wife now, and I want you to remember that. I won't let anyone disrespect you again."

With a grateful nod, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. This transformed version of Seonghwa before you was a stark departure from the one you initially encountered. You didn't think he was capable of being so soft and caring, but you had no complaints; you could certainly get used to this.

"Oh, mistress! You're finally awake!" Eunsook exclaimed, standing at the room entrance with the physician in tow. This caused you and your husband to break eye contact. The general cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when he realised the two had witnessed your shared intimate moment.

Yunho suppressed his smile and respectfully bowed at you, "Good day, Lady Park. I'm Physician Jung; it's nice to properly meet you." Blinking, you struggled to come up with a response, gaping at his handsome face.

While the elderly woman giggled at your loss of words, Seonghwa was less than amused at your reaction to the doctor's appearance. He scoffed lightly, finding it ridiculous that you were here gazing at another man after he had just poured his heart out to you.

How dare you be unfaithful this soon?

Upon catching the enticing scent of food, your eyes swiftly moved away from Yunho's face. Your face lit up as you finally noticed the bowl of piping hot congee in Eunsook's hands.

"Oh dear, you must be famished. With Physician Jung's help, we concocted this healthy meal for you. I know it's not very appetising, with all the medicinal herbs in it, but you must get better before indulging in tastier foods, alright?" She smiled encouragingly at you.

You shook your head as she approached with the bowl, "Not appetising? It already smells and looks better than anything I've ever had. Thank you for the food." You murmured, eagerly waiting as she fed you.

Unbeknownst to you, your innocent response had affected Seonghwa more than you realised, and it also surprised the physician. While Yunho had heard a bit about your situation from the head maid, he wasn't fully aware of the extent of it, and hearing it directly from you was truly heart-wrenching. That definitely explained the severe malnourishment.

The congee was gone within moments and Eunsook couldn't help but coo, "Well done, mistress." You bit your lip shyly, feeling embarrassed for devouring it in such an unladylike manner, but nothing mattered the moment the food touched your lips.

As if on cue, a group of servants arrived with a fresh set of clothes and bath supplies originally intended for you earlier in the morning. Turning toward the two men, the head maid bowed and gestured toward the door, "Master, Physician Jung, if you wouldn't mind stepping out. We shall bathe and change the mistress."

Yunho nodded, "Certainly, I'll be getting back to work then," and immediately excused himself, reassured to know you had finished your first sitting of medicine.

The general stood up from his spot, "Alright, Eunsook. I'll leave her to you for now. Take care of her for me." He said, moving to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. The action caused your eyes to widen, and all the servants internally squealed, shocked to see their master being so affectionate for the first time.

Your heart swelled as you watched him leave, his back suddenly seeming so reliable. It was hard to believe that he was your husband, yours. How lucky were you to be wedded to Park Seonghwa?

"Come, mistress. Let's get you cleaned up."

You observed with intrigue as the servants rushed around to prepare a bath for you, an experience you had never had before. However, as they began to assist in stripping off your clothes, you realised you had forgotten all about the marks on your skin earlier. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pushed the hands of the servants away and shook your head.

Reassuring you, they withdrew their hands with warm smiles, "It's okay, mistress. Please know we are all on your side; nobody here will disrespect or look down on you. You are now the official wife of General Park, and we will work our hardest to serve you."

The head maid nodded in agreement behind them, their sincerity deeply touching your heart, "Thank you for your kindness." You whispered, finally allowing them to help you out of your hanbok. They handled you with gentleness, and it took you some time to get used to it—finally not being manhandled like you always had been.

After they finished scrubbing you clean, the other maids momentarily left you alone to enjoy the bath, touched by your endearing demeanour—constantly expressing gratitude for every little thing. To them, it felt almost like caring for a child. Exchanging excited glances, none of them could hide their pleasure in having such a sweet mistress.

With your presence, perhaps the general's anger could finally subside, and the estate could experience some peaceful days. If only you knew the hope you had brought with your arrival.

Eunsook lingered in the background, cleaning and tidying up, while you played with the rose petals floating around the bath water. You couldn't recall the last time your life had been so relaxing, so peaceful. Turning to the elderly woman working nearby, you gathered the courage to ask, "This... this isn't a dream, is it?"

Setting down her supplies, she approached you with a motherly smile on her face, "I assure you, mistress, it is not. This is all very real. Perhaps the master's sudden shift in behaviour can be confusing."

She gently held onto your hand, "Trust me, he is actually not such a bad person at all. There's a good reason why all the servants here have been with him for a long time. Though he believes it is simply because of the good pay, it isn't. He just... has a hard time trying to express his feelings. Let's just say master did not exactly grow up living an easy life. He struggles to show his love because he has not been given nearly enough of it while growing up."

That sounds a little like me too.

Giving your hand a soft squeeze, she added, "And now, with you here, it seems we can all hope that things will change for the better, for master and for you, mistress."

"M-me? Better because of... me?" You whispered, returning the squeeze, and she nodded, "Yes, mistress. All because of you. You are our light and our hope. Thank you for coming to us. You're so important to everyone here, you know that? Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

You didn't realise you were crying until you felt a gentle touch as the elderly woman wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks, assuring you, "No matter what happens, I promise you won't be alone anymore from now on."

Standing in the centre of the room later on, it almost felt like a dream come true as the servants attentively assisted you in getting dressed. For once, you felt genuinely cared for and respected, a stark contrast to your previous experiences at home, where most servants treated you as less than human.

Turning to face the mirror, a gasp escaped you as you gazed at your reflection, "You look beautiful, mistress. Master is going to love it." A servant exclaimed, admiring your natural beauty. Your eyes widened as you took in the pleasant appearance before you, surprised that despite the visibility of your scars, you could look appealing. It appeared that with proper care, hair, and clothing, you could indeed appear somewhat pretty.

I guess all hope is not lost.

"We'll be taking our leave now, mistress." The rest of the maids bowed in a line before you as they finished up. Panic crossed their faces when they saw you about to return their bows, and Eunsook stopped you in time, saying, "Oh dear, mistress! We'll have to work on that. Please remember you do not have to bow to any of the servants here, or anywhere, for the matter."

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'll remember that next time."

She chuckled and shook her head, "That too, you do not need to apologise to us. We are here to serve you." The maids nodded to signal that the elderly woman was right, smiling encouragingly at you before bowing one last time and leaving to return to their other tasks.

"Now, there's still a bit more time before dinner. What would you like to do until then, mistress?" The head maid asked.

You blinked, realising you didn't know how to answer. You never had the luxury to do as you pleased; all your supposed spare time was spent rotting in your prison cell of a room. What did your stepsisters usually do? Right, make your life hell. That's what.

What do young ladies around your age do?

Suddenly remembering Eunsook's earlier words about having to work on what you should and shouldn't do, you perked up, "I... I wish to learn. I want to be a proper lady, to be a proper wife for the general."

You stared, puzzled, as the elderly woman tried to hide her cheeky grin, "Well, the master's study is full of all sorts of knowledgeable books. Maybe you can find something in there. Would you like to go there now, mistress?"

Finding nothing wrong with the suggestion, you agreed. The next thing you knew, you were left standing alone by the entrance to the study she had been talking about. She had explained that she needed to assist the physician with an important task before hastily disappearing.

Not wanting to be impolite, you knocked on the door and waited for a response, "May I please enter, my lord?" After a moment of silence, you knocked again, only to be met with silence.

Maybe he's not inside.

With a shrug, you cautiously pushed the door open. Your eyes widened when you immediately spotted Seonghwa seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in his reading with a slight furrow of his brows. Despite planning to leave, you found yourself rooted to the spot, admiring how attractive he looked, even when only sitting there.

As if sensing someone watching him, his eyes immediately shot up in alert, only to soften when he realised it was you. Caught off guard, you sputtered and bowed repeatedly, "I-I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean to spy on you or anything like that. Eunsook told me I could occupy myself with some books in here until dinner, and I—"

Too busy staring down at your feet, you didn't notice he had been making his way towards you. You gasped when his shoes came into view, looking up to find him right in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, "Relax, I'm not angry. You're welcome to spend time with me; I'd be happy to accompany you."

Looking at you closely now, his heart raced as he realised how stunning you appeared in this natural state, even more so than with a face full of heavy makeup, "You... you look beautiful, by the way." He remarked, watching with admiration as a blush tinted your cheeks when you quietly thanked him.

As you bit your lips shyly, he found it hard to look away, feeling a desire to kiss you that he had never experienced with any woman before, "M-my lord?" You stuttered, feeling flustered by the sudden attention he was paying to your lips.

With a hand outstretched, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to join him, "R-right, let me know what you're looking for. This is no royal library, but I'm sure I'll have whatever you need."

You gulped, shyly placing your hand in his waiting one, "I was hoping to learn more about lady etiquette. I... I want to be a proper lady and wife for you, my lord." His heart melted at that; despite the less-than-warm welcome he had given you, you were still willing to work hard and be better for him.

"Very well, come with me." Tightening his hold on your hand, he gently led you towards the bookshelves lining the side of his study.

As you passed by his desk, you couldn't help but do a double take at the reading material he had been so focused on just earlier. You'd recognise the Jang family crest anywhere.

"Wait, isn't that—"

Before you could inquire about it, Seonghwa was already in the process of tidying up the space and simultaneously putting the book away, "Sorry for the mess. Now, which area of lady etiquette did you want to start with first?" He asked, gesturing to the entire row of books dedicated to the topic.

"O-oh, I haven't really thought about that. I wasn't aware there were so many different areas. Gosh, I have much to learn..." You trailed off, your mind already reeling as you tried to figure out which area would be best to begin with.

He sighed in relief, successfully redirecting the conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted the recognition in your eyes upon seeing your family records. The general didn't want to have to interview you in order to delve into your past; he didn't want you to relive any nightmares. More importantly, he didn't want to worry you by revealing any of the plans he had in store for your family.

« Preview of Part 6 »

Jongho entered his master's study that night, panting and puzzled to find the desk filled with books on... lady etiquette?

"S-sir?"

Seonghwa snapped up immediately, catching the assistant's appalled gaze on your books. He chuckled, "Oh, those are just your mistress' books. She said she wants to learn to be a proper lady and wife... can you believe that?"

Without himself noticing, the general had an almost dreamy look on his face as he smiled, lost in thoughts of you, unaware that he was letting it show on his face, revealing his affection for you.

"I see. I'm sure the mistress will no doubt make you proud with her studies soon." Jongho responded with a knowing grin, pleased to see his master being soft for a change, the intimidating General Park momentarily gone, all because of his wife.

Recalling his aide's purpose for being here this late, Seonghwa quickly turned serious, "Well, have you managed to find anything?"

The assistant immediately straightened up, moving closer to the general and lowering his voice, "I have, sir. With the funds you provided, I hired a private investigator willing to infiltrate the Jang estate. Fortunately, one of the older servants didn't take much to crack; she told him just about everything."

With a clenched fist, your husband asked for confirmation, "Well? Was it her father?"

Nodding, Jongho's expression turned grim, "It was as you assumed, sir. It was him, his wife, his stepdaughters, and even the servants. But there's... more. We've uncovered new information, the minister... he truly is despicable."

Sorry, this part took a little longer! Happy to report that I'm feeling much better! I was out all day with my family and immediately got to work finalising this as soon as I got home!

Thank you so much for 800+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and I'm so excited to hear all your thoughts (or even predictions for what's to come😈), I promise I won't spoil anything in my replies! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

737 notes · View notes

tgcg · 3 months

Text

fond regards

… OKAY? AND WHO IS SAYING THAT? WHAT THE FUCK?

I -- ACTUALLY, WHO THE HELL JUST TOLD ME THIS INFORMATION? I'M COMPLETELY ALONE RIGHT NOW. ARE YOU SEEING THAT?

ARE YOU WATCHING ME RIGHT NOW? BASK IN THIS OVERWHELMING PRESENCE OF NEGATIVE SPACE. THE ABSOLUTE ABSENCE OF AIR SURROUNDING ME.

THERE IS FUCK ALL. NOT A THING.

NOT EVEN SOME KIND OF SEATING APPARATUS FOR ME TO STAGE THIS INTERVENTION FOR YOU ON. I GUESS I'LL HAVE TO "RAW DOG" IT OR WHATEVER THE FUCK DAVE WOULD DESCRIBE THIS AS.

I -- I MEAN… FIRST OF ALL. SHIT.

THANKS, I GUESS… FOR DOING THAT?

LOVING ME.

WHATEVER YOUR VERSION OF "LOVE" IS.

OKAY, ENOUGH BULLSHIT.

… LOOK. I DON'T KNOW WHO IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE. NOR THROUGH WHAT KIND OF TENTH-DIMENSIONAL IMAGE PROCESSING PLATFORM OR WHATEVER-THE-SHIT DEVICE IT IS BEING DELIVERED.

AND FRANKLY I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF A FUCKING WEEK ALREADY TO BE DEALING WITH SOME POSSIBLY HIGHER LEVEL OF BEING THAT JUST "LOVES ME".

I WAS FLYING WAY PAST THE THRESHOLD FOR BEING ABLE TO GIVE A FUCK ABOUT EXISTENTIALISM BY TUESDAY AT THE LATEST.

SO SURE, THIS MIGHT AS WELL HAPPEN.

BUT IF YOU'RE STILL LISTENING TO ME RIGHT NOW: I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS IS WHAT YOU'D CALL A "PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP", ASSUMING YOUR UNIVERSE HAS ANY CAPACITY FOR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS BEYOND BASELESS QUOTE-ENQUOTE "LOVE" OF THOROUGHLY UNLOVABLE INDIVIDUALS. HONESTLY, NOT A GOOD SIGN THAT YOU CHOSE ME OF ALL PEOPLE TO HEAR THIS, BY THE WAY! THIS IS NOT A GREAT LOOK FOR YOUR SUPPOSED NTH-DIMENSIONAL GODLINESS!

THE FIRST THING A TROLL WOULD FEEL TOWARDS YOU RIGHT NOW IS PITY. I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT.

AND THERE'S NOTHING PARASOCIAL ABOUT THAT WHATSOEVER, BECAUSE APPARENTLY WE'RE NOW MUTUALLY AWARE OF EACH OTHER.

I LEARNED ALL ABOUT PARASOCIAL BULLSHIT FROM ROSE WHEN I WAS TELLING HER ABOUT TROLL WILL SMITH, SO I'VE BEGRUDGINGLY BECOME KIND OF A MASTER ON THE TOPIC.

WAIT, FUCK. DOES THAT MEAN YOU AREN'T BEING PARASOCIAL TOWARDS ME ANYMORE? HOW MUCH DO I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU BEFORE IT STARTS JUST BEING A REGULAR RELATIONSHIP? WHAT ARE THE BOUNDARIES HERE.

DON'T GET THE WRONG IDEA BY THE WAY. I DON'T HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH TROLL WILL SMITH OR ANYTHING. THAT WAS JUST A CLASSIC LALONDE "MASSIVE ILLOGICAL REACH IN CONJECTURE THAT IS COMPLETELY OFF-BASE AND GENERALLY ONLY DONE TO MAKE FUN OF YOU IN A SNIDE AND INSUFFERABLE WAY, INEVITABLY LEADING INTO AN HOUR-LONG DIATRIBE ON PSYCHOSOCIAL DEVELOPMENT DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO FUCK WITH YOU".

SHE JUST DOESN'T GET IT. HE'S COOL AS FUCK AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT! THE AMOUNT OF BULLSHIT THE DERSE HUMANS CAN EXTRAPOLATE FROM THE SIMPLEST OF SPONGEDEAD NOTIONS IS MIND-BOGGLING TO ME. IT'S AS INCREDIBLE AS IT IS MONUMENTALLY FUCKING AGGRAVATING.

ANYWAYS, SINCE WE'RE APPARENTLY IN THE REALM OF SHARING COMPLETELY UNFOUNDED SENTIMENTS WITH PEOPLE WHO POSSIBLY DON'T EVEN EXIST, I HAVE SOME ADVICE FOR YOU: IMPROVE YOUR STANDARDS. MAYBE LOOKING INSIDE YOUR OWN DIMENSION WOULD BE A GOOD START. AND I'D SUGGEST SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T WASTE HIS TIME TALKING TO THIN FUCKING AIR IN VAST WHITE EXPANSES LIKE THIS ONE.

JUST A THOUGHT.

JEGUS, TALKING TO NOTHING IS HARD. I FEEL LIKE I'M JUST SPUTTERING COMPLETE INANE GARBAGE IN CIRCLES LIKE A DELIRIOUS WRIGGLER HERE. IS THIS HOW DAVE FEELS ALL THE TIME? THIS IS HORRIBLE.

WHERE'S THE EXIT?

#karkat vantas #homestuck #was overcome with urge 2 do this as soon as i got this ask #idk why #comix #fond regards

432 notes · View notes

aniharas · 4 months

Text

𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward.

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul.

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?” You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert. As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times.

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body.

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead.

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you?

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours.

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return.

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head.

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #spiderman 2099 #oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #spiderman oneshot

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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This is more of a question for the fanfic author community at large. Recently I had someone tell me they were writing a fic based on my fic. I was obviously flattered by it. But when their fic was posted, it was basically a re-write of exactly what I'd written. And that made me feel uncomfortable, because my story was a very specific AU. I know in fandom/fanfic anything goes and people are free to do what they want. Who am I to say 'no you can't write this'? I brushed it off and let it go. But it just got me internally asking: what are some rules of decorum around fics inspired by other fics? Can I as an author say it made me uncomfortable? If author A is writing something based on author B's work, is it expected for author A to tell author B about it? I welcome any other discussion on this topic that I didn't cover in my questions because I'm curious to see what others think! Thanks!

I'm not going to lie to you, anon, this one can be a bit of a minefield.

There's a tradition? (if that's the right word) in fandom of asking permission before writing a work inspired by someone else's fanwork.

While we don't do this with the creators of canon, we also don't share a community with the creators of canon. In fandom spaces, everyone knows everyone to a certain degree. This might be less true now that fandom has exploded in popularity in recent years, but even so.

I personally love when someone writes something inspired by my work, and I've written a few fics inspired by others too. It's part of that community sharing that I value so much in fandom.

But the minefield comes in when the original fan author feels like the "inspired by" fic is a little too close to their own.

Emotions can be fraught in online spaces where tone is hard to convey over text and there tends to be an assumption of the worst motives and interpretations rather than the best.

You're definitely well within your rights to feel uncomfortable about what that other person wrote. I'm not going to tell you that your emotions are wrong or unfounded. In fact, I'd likely feel the same way if I were in your place.

What you do about that feeling is your own decision to make. Do you just sit on it and hope it goes away? Do you reach out to that other author and say something about it? Do you just vent to a friend and get it out that way?

Folks who have had similar experiences, share what happened if you're willing. From either A or B's perspective.

#asks and answers

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loveinhawkins · 2 months

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class vivisection

ao3 written for @steddiemicrofic March 2024 prompt, “pin,” 388 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, pre season 2, cw: implied/referenced homophobia

They’re all looking at you, Eddie’s brain helpfully suggests as he heads into first period. It’s not like the thought is unfounded; his entrance prompts whispers, mixed up with remnants of the usual student gossip after summer break: so who’s got the best tan?; did you hear Debbie Lyons went to France?; look, it’s true, Eddie Munson is repeating.

When he reaches his usual seat, there’s a bag on top of the desk already, and great, he’s gotta have a whole confrontation before class has even begun.

But Steve Harrington, sat two desks across, tilts precariously in his seat and retrieves the bag; Eddie’s spot is clear again.

Warily, Eddie sits down. “Uh, how’d you know that I—”

“You left your shit in the tray,” Steve says in an unconcerned drawl.

Eddie checks. There’s an old torn up notebook in the tray underneath his desk, barely written in, no helpful study notes from his past self. Bodes well.

“Doesn’t tell me why you put your shit on my desk, Harrington.”

“You think I wanna deal with a whole scene ‘cause someone sat in your precious seat? S’way too early.”

Eddie feels the familiar spike of irritation, like a gnat in his head. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Whatever, dude.”

And while he certainly seems bored, Eddie’s not gonna be taken for a fool. Yeah, the whole King Steve stuff might be dying, but that doesn’t completely diminish Steve’s social standing, especially now that he’s a senior.

There’s a sharpness in his eyes that suggests he can easily cut through the bullshit, take you down a peg with just one look.

Eddie feels those eyes on him—feels abruptly like a pinned butterfly, every part of him exposed. His palms are sweating.

Maybe there were whispers before he even arrived. Maybe they said more—kept spreading the rumour that started last fall, that he avoids the gym changing rooms because—because—

“Don’t overthink it, Munson,” Steve says. He glances away, eyes flashing with annoyance—but not at him, Eddie realises with faint disbelief. At the whisperers. “I’m just here to pass this damn class.”

He sounds thoroughly done with school already.

Eddie smothers a stab of envy at Steve’s certainty that he’ll pass. Opens his notebook and writes down the date.

#school after summer break: an anxiety cocktail #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficmarch #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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jjkeremika · 6 months

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AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

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