#if you are not familiar these are spanish speaking men

[justisco]

me: jude will probably befriend the players who speak english

jude:

[my-love-is-sunlight]

One piece men hear you speaking Spanish for the first time

Ft. Sanji, Law, Ace and Zoro

SFW, swearing in spanish ;), drinking, gn reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Sanji

“MIERDA!” (Shit) your scream was followed by a loud thud of the pan hitting the floor

Sanji immediately directed his attention to you running while holding his breath

“Are you o-“ he was interrupted by you mumbling something he couldn’t quite understand

“Puta madre esta demasiado caliente” (holy shit it’s too hot) you hissed while holding your hand close to your chest eyes shut together tightly at the sensation of the sudden burn

Sanjis worried look was replaced by a intrigued one as he realized everything that you were saying was in fact not english, it was something he couldn’t understand

“Let me see that, dear” he offers you his hand and you allowed him to look at the burn, he examines it throughly, being very familiar with this kind of injury, then he lightly touches the harmed zone of your hand making you squirm again

“AY IDIOTA” (you idiot) you remove your hand from his hissing in pain yet again

Sanji fetches the first aid kit as you stand still in your place blowing at your hand in hopes the pain will suffice, he asks you to sit down and you follow his instructions as he cures your burn cautiously

“So” he speaks after a while “What was all that you were saying earlier?”

“Oh…” you realize you had never mentioned that English is in fact not your first language “It’s Spanish, mostly curses” you answer a little ashamed at your behavior

Sanji felt himself fill with excitement at his new discovery “You never mentioned you knew other languages” curiosity itched him at the thought of hearing your voice say things he couldn’t decipher

“You never asked” you offer him a smirk knowing exactly what was going trough his head

“Could you tell me something else that isn’t curses? My dear?” You think for a second before obliging

“Gracias por cuidar de mi, mi principe” (thanks for taking care of me, my prince)

Sanji’s face was completely flushed, hands shaken and mouth dry, the way your voice and confidence shifted as you spoke your native language left him breathless and falling for you all over again

“I could really use some spanish lessons”

Law

You watched the doctor who sat at his desk flipping trough a medical book, his brows furrowed, you couldn’t ignore his annoyed huffs and puffs he had been making for a while now, you decided to interrupt whatever he had going on

“What’s with you, captain?” You giggle at the way he’s basically assaulting that poor book flipping it harshly

“This stupid book it’s not in English I don’t understand a damn thing” he answers still looking for a page, a title, a sentence he could read, anything

You come closer and peak above him looking at the words filling the book, you stop Laws hands for scavenging the pages as you start to read, your touch making him shiver

“La anemia provoca síntomas como fatiga, reducción de la capacidad para realizar trabajo físico y dificultad para respirar”

Law looks up at you surprised before you explain “This is basically explaining what Anemia is” you flip the page “And in here it talks about the flu” you point at the book smiling kindly at your confused captain

He would never admit it but he was really impressed and a little star struck at the way your voice sounded in a foreign language

“What were you looking for in here anyway?” You ask while flipping the pages

Law had to pull himself out of whatever spell you had casted on him before answering

“I bought it two islands ago but didn’t check it until now” his statement made you giggle, specially as you noticed the big title that read ‘Enfermedades y sus Síntomas’ (sickness and their symptoms) in the front of the book in gold bold letters

“I can translate it if you want” you kindly offer which pulls at Laws heartstrings, you were always taking care of him, he answers by shaking his head

“Do what you want” you roll your eyes at your dismissive captain before taking some paper and a pen from his desk

“Didn’t know you were bilingual” the doctor says still a little taken aback at this new information about you

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me” you wink before walking towards his couch, but you were stopped by a tatted hand holding your wrist and a playful smirk

“What about you read it to me instead?”

Red settles in your ears and cheeks before your eyes run aways from Laws and smiling shyly

“Don’t think you can handle all that Captain” you were obviously referring to all the information that the book offered, but the implications of you speaking another language and making Law nervous was obviously there, making him also blush immediately and his hold falter, but he wasn’t gonna let you have this one

“No no” he says before making you sit on his desk “Think I’ll do just fine”

Ace

“ACE DETENTE” (Ace stop) you screamed at the freckled pirate that had tossed you over his shoulder and threatened to make you fall into the ocean at the beach the Moby Dick had docked for the day. What once started as an uneventful aternoon in the beach turned into a wrestling match between you and the commander to see who would fall into the water first, and you were loosing

“What was that now?” He maneuvers you making you land on your feet as he smiles ear to ear intrigued about what you just said

“I said stop” you answered him as you catch your breath

“I don’t think that’s what you said” he starts approaching you slow and steady making you walk backwards as to avoid another attack, you return the playful smile plastered on his handsome face

“Dije Ace detente, sordo” (I said Ace stop, you deaf) you allow him to hear your Spanish once more gaining an even wider smile

“You sound soooo attractive like that”

You aren’t good with flirting, Ace’s smooth talk always manages to make you blush and stumble on your words and he loves it

“Stop it” you say pushing him back now

“I didn’t really understood that can you say it like the first time again?” You knew he wasn’t gonna let this newfound thing live down, you roll your eyes at the back of your head before obliging in hopes he’ll let you scape the danger of the water at your feet. You stop pushing him before standing on your tip toes allowing you to whisper in his ear

“Si me dejas ir te doy un beso” (if you let me go I’ll kiss ya) his breath hitched and a shiver ran down his spine freezing him in place. You stand back to meet his gaze as he stays ogling you, red blush painting his delicate freckles. Taking advantage you tackle him making him fall flat on the ocean

Your laugh explodes meeting Aces ears, still in shock by your teasing he lays on the water admiring your beaming smile that shines brighter than the sunset behind both of you. All he ever wanted was to make you laugh, there was no better price.

You offer him a hand to help him stand up, he takes it before pulling you down to meet the oceans salted water, squeaking at the coldness meeting your body

“You got me” you beam on top of him as he keeps drinking your beauty, wordless and enchanted

“You gotta keep speaking more like that y’know?” This man was absolutely lovesick, everything that had to do with you he loved, it was concerning

“Like what? Spanish?” You asked still surprise at his persistence on the matter

“Oh so that’s what it is” the comment makes you laugh once more making Ace’s heart swoon in pride, he is the only one that makes you laugh like this and he wouldn’t have it any other way

“I can teach you some”

Zoro

The strawhats found themselves drinking another bar dry, stretching your legs after weeks on end at sea and giving poor Sanji a break of having too cook yet another night. You were seated next to Zoro as you watched Usopp tell yet another over the top story about your adventures in the grand line to some locals, the ambience was so warm and welcoming allowing you to indulge in drinking at peace, or so you thought that’s how it was gonna be

A man drunk out of his mind stumbles to your side slurring his word and babbling about kissing you or something, at first you try to laugh it off but the man persisted. The swordsman catches your annoyed and uncomfortable face as you try to keep the wondering hands of the drunken away from you, anger building up in him at every stupid word that left his mouth, but before he could intervene he sees you stand up

“Dije que no! estúpido, aléjate!” (I said no you idiot, go away!) You scream at the man before pushing him, making him fall onto the nearby table

Zoro lets go of the hold on his swords as he watches you fix your clothes before muttering “Maldito idiota” (Fucking idiot)

Whatever you were saying it was in a language he had never heard you speak, he thought you only spoke English like almost everyone else in the crew. There was something in how your voice shifted that left him wanting to hear more. You speaking a completely different language was something that had never even crossed his mind

As you sat back down and took another sip of your drink the swordsman founds himself intrigued

“So now we’re screaming in different languages?” He asks smirking at you, the alcohol pulling his big walls down allowing you to climb them right up

“You know I love screaming” Zoro lets out a deep laugh, thinking what to say as to make you say another thing in that beautiful tongue he had heard you speak

“Where did you learn that anyway?” You raise and eyebrow at him, surprised at the way he was making conversation with you, something he never did

“It’s my native language actually” he hums in response happy to know more about you before becoming a pirate

“Why so curious?” The question makes him stutter, caught red handed

“‘Just had never heard that language before” he lies trough his flushed face which you immediately catch and makes your heart clench, a smile tugging at your lips

You sit closer to him before you whisper, lips brushing his golden earrings tickling you “No me digas que no conocías el español, verdecito” (Don’t tell me you didn’t know spanish, greenie)

You giggle after feeling every single muscle on his body clench at your words as he now shone bright red. He takes a big swoon of his sake trying to drown the shyness out of him

You lay back enjoying the rest of the night, Zoro not being able to keep the way you spoke out of his mind ever again

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Of course I had to do this! RAAAH 🦅🦅🦅🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽 Also ty for more than 1k on my first one of these, ly guys enjoy

[goldenhourwriter]

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one • part two (you are here) •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: oh i love writing sassy spider-people

"And then the hot sandwhiches in the cafeteria suck ass, like, at least melt the cheese. I don't want some luke warm sandwhich that can't decide whether to be hot or cold!"

I hum absentmindely, playing with my bracelets as Ben Parker keeps mumbling and moping on and on about how his life is so terrible compared to all the other Spider-Men. Honestly, when I said he was allowed to get some things off his chest, I thought he meant telling me about the mission that went bad with him, not his whole life story from birth to this moment. He sighs dramtically, plopping his head down at the table we're sitting at, and I flinch at the sudden jolt of motion, my eyes lifting to look at him. He lets out a low, dramtic wail. "See? You don't care either!" He drawls. I roll my eyes.

"Nobody is looking at you, Ben, quit it." He rolls his head to the side with the most awful puppy-eyes I have ever seen. I give him a sarcastic, annoyed smile.

"Sorry, correction. Nobody is looking at you as if they hold any sympathy for you," I tell him as I stand up, having to take a moment to regain my balance from the whale that I am now. He sneers at me, his hair all dishelved from the way he's been tugging at it for the past hour. "I'll have you know that many people give their sympathy to me! There-there should be a book written about me! Or-or even better, a movie!" He calls out with frustration as I walk away from him. I scoff, not even bothering to justify his shouting at me with a glance over my shoulder. The doors to the cafeteria open and then close, and I heave out a sigh.

I think I'd hurl myself out the window if I hear his life story for the 30th time. It's a topic he loves discussing.

"Hey! Y/N!" I hear a familiar voice call out to me. I whip my head around. It could be any spider-person calling my name. From any floor, wall, ceiling, corner, web, anything. You never really know where to look when you work at a place like this.

The voice calls my name again, and this time it's more clearer, calling out behind me. I turn around and see Gwen walking towards me, a smile on her face. I let out a small breath of relief, grateful it's at least someone I enjoy being around, and not like one of the mind-numblingly boring Spder-Men who can't quit talking about how rough they have it. I hope you get who I'm referring to.

I walk a few steps, beginning to speak and raise my hand to wave in greeting, but she stops me with her hands. "No! No! Please, we'll meet you there."

Considerate. I love it. But I also hate it.

I put one hand on my belly, and one hand on my hip, jutting it out with. I give her a soft smile. "You're awre I can still walk, correct? I'm not toally useless," I sigh. She shrugs, not really responding. She holds her hand up to gesture to....something. But I don't really see what it's supposed to be.

"This is Miles," she smiles, with a hint of annoyance in her eye. I look to the side of her which she's gesturing to, but I raise my eyebrows.

"Gwen? Have we really drove you that crazy that you're making people up?" I ask, looking back at her. Her face drops in confusion, and she looks to her side. She groans, throwing her hands down into fists and spins around. I look past her, and I see another teen, presumably Miles, awe-struck and looking around everywhere. He seems a bit lost, but that doesn't hold a candle to the child-like wonder that is clear on his face.

"Miles! I told you not to fall behind!" She shouts at him. Immediatley, he snaps out of his daze, and he looks at her like a lost puppy. I've seen that before. I um, the pieces clicking in my mind, and I watch on with amusement.

This is the kid Gwen usually doesn't shut up about.

I snicker.

Cute, I think to myself as he smiles at her and mumbles an apology. They both clearly have feelings for one another. But, there is that air of nothing is established. A sort of tension. He looks at me finally, and his eyes immediatley drop to my stomach.

"You're pregnant?" He blurts out, and, despite his dark skin, I can still clearly see him blushing at his outburst. I furrow my brows at him, a bit worried that he might faint. Gwen closes her eyes, annoyed, and elbows him in the gut. I bite back a smile while straightening.

"Yes, I am pregnant. And don't even think about apologizing, all the new recruits have the same reaction." I smile as I think back to all of the young adults and teens I've met, each wondering in shock how I'm able to fight crime with two babies in me.

He goes to talk, and stick out his hand for me to shake, but Gwen hits him again.

"He's actually not a recruit, Miguel needed to see him. He's caused a bit of....well..." she trails off. I let out a small sound of understanding as I look at her while she's explaining. I look back at Miles.

"Well, I've already heard so much about you. I really do hope to see you joining our ranks someday," I say politely. I stick out my hand this time, and he takes it, a bit awe-struck. "Well, you know what they say," he says. He holds my hand as I look at him, expecting something. I quirk my eyebrow up. "What? What do they say?" A beat of silence.

"I have no idea."

I stare at him for a moment. Gwen didn't tell me this kid was so dorky. The again, all the Spider-People come from dorky backgrounds. I nod slowly, my hand retracting from his as I put it to my chest. "Great..." I trail off. I shake my head, and I look at Gwen again.

"I was actually just about to go see him, he hasn't had lunch, and I grabbed him an empanada, he usually goes nuts for them," I giggle, holding up the small container in my hand, which was long-forgotten while Ben shared his deepest, darkest corners of his soul. Again.

Miles lights up at the sight of the empanada.

"My grandma used to make those! Fueron los mejores (They were the best)," he beams, putting his hand on is hips, his chest expanding with pride. He bumps his shoulder intp Gwen's, who looks like she wants to crawl into a hole at this moment. I watch with endearment. It is endearing, how he gets all excited. I was the same way learning Spanish, wanting to expand my knowledge for Miguel. I wait for a moment for him to explain himself, my lips quirked up in a small smile.

"See? I know Spanglish," he chuckles, clearly getting prouder of himself. I smile widely.

"Que maravilla (wonderful)," I respond. His face drops, and he looks down, rocking on his feet, his voice growing quiet. I chuckle. "Oh...I see you...know..." "If you don't mind, Miles," Gwen says through gritted teeth. She looks back at me, her smile still strained. "We're going to keep moving along."

I shrug.

"I'll come with, give Miguel his empanada." I walk over to Miles, putting my arm around his shoulder. This throws him off, his eyes growing wide. He glances to the side, then back at me, not knowing what to do. I point to his chest with the empanada-hand. "También me encantaría escuchar más de su español (I'd also love to hear more of his Spanish)," I grin.

✮•

"Oi, there's the little child-bearer," Hobie announces as he gets up from his spot, walking over. He goes to put an arm around me, but I dodge, smacking it away. "Call me that again and I will give you something much, much more painful than giving birth," I growl. He doesn't even looked shocked, he loves riling people up. He pats my head, and walks a bit ahead of us. I scoff at his back, his guitar hanging so loosley off of it it makes me wonder how it's even managed to stay on for that long. I glance over my shoulder at Miles, who still walks a bit behind the rest of us. I slow down my pace, and when we're at the same speed, I whisper to him.

"You okay, kid?" His shoulders tense at that name, so I put my hands up in retreat. "Sorry, I wasn't the biggest fan of it either at your age," I chuckle. He glance at me, trying to find the amusement, but his laugh just comes out....dead. I sigh.

"Listen, Miles, I don't know what happened before you got here. I frankly, maybe I don't want to know. But just know it's nothing we can't fix, alright?" I mumble, bumping my shoulder with his for some light encouragement. He smiles just a tiny bit, his hand coming up to rub the shoulder I bumped bashfully. "Yeah...thanks."

I watch as he walks a bit ahead of me, and I watch as he looks at Gwen with...almost a longing gaze. A bit sad, too. I frown. I know how rough this kid has had it, Gwen's told me, and sometimes I would see him come up in the feed occasionally when I would cover for Miguel, giving him some much-needed rest time. I watched just as I did now, a frown etched on my face, wanting to reach out and tell him that this job does get better, but he wouldn't know I was watching. He still doesn't know I'm watching as we walk through the doors and into my husband's office. I fall into line with the teens, and look up at my husband and his beloved platform. Going down. Slowly. Inch by inch.

I groan inwardly.

This thing again.

I remember my first day here, I thought it was the most terrifying thing, seeing his broad back, all hunched over menacingly over the screens. Then, his mask came down, and I couldn't focus the entire time he was explaining everything to me, I was too focused on his face.

He claims he didn't know what I was doing, but I know that he was just as distracted as I was.

Miles glances at Gwen, and she shakes her head, indicating him not to talk. "I know, it's slow," she says. Miles still looks confused, and he looks over her shoulders and at me. I wave my hand in the air dismissevly. "It's his thing," I mumble under my breath, so Miguel can't hear us. God forbid we ruin his whole macho-'I'm so menacing,' act.

"Miguel O'Hara, meet, Miles Morales!" Gwen announces. No response.

"Ay, ¿Qué tal, tío? (Hey, what's up, dude?)" Miles smiles. "Yeah, I speak Spanish," he announces in front of me for the second time today.

I heave out a sigh, letting my head roll to the front. I look up again, and when I speak, my voice comes out in a shout. I have no idea what he can or can't hear from his mountain hideout.

"Amor, lo entendemos, puedes dominarnos. ¿Apuremos esto, por favor? (Love, we get it, you can overpower us. Let's hurry this up, please?)"

He grumbles something in Spanish, but I can't catch it. He spins around, shooting me a glare. "Glad to see you've met my wife," he says to Miles after giving me a hard look. Miles looks between me and my husband, his eyes scrunched together. He doesn't dare speak yet, however. Miguel smiles angrily, baring his fangs. "Something I had, like most things here now, no control over. Funny, considering I run this place!" His voice gets louder and a bit more sharp as he continues talking, and his hands come to his hips. I roll my eyes, making a sound of annoyance. I heave out a sigh. Miles steps forward, his hands moving while he speaks.

"Listen, man, I'm really excited to get going, I got some fresh new ideas on how to catch the Spot. You know, he just wants to be taken seriously-"

"Oh! Great. Uh-huh, uh-huh," my husband mumbles with a small, pestered smirk as Miles speaks. He lets out a very loud, very agressive roar as he hurls a piece of technology at Miles. Gwen and I both shout with shock, jumping out of the way, and Miles covers his head. Miguel doesn't even stop to consider what he did.

"You were worried about Spot, I'll worry about Spot!" he continues to yell at Miles. Miles is shaking, his eyes bulging with fear at him.

Gwen looks violated, and a bit worried for her friend. "Miguel! It's not his fault!" Miles agrees with her, nodding repeatedly.

"It was his fault, he blew another hole in the multiverse!"

"He didn't know any better!" Gwen shoots back. Miles doesn't quite know what to say, standing there awkardly, as if he and his friends' mom are fighting.

I step forward now, my head lowering as the platforms still moves slowly down.

"Miguel, think about throwing wires at someone! He was just tryng to do what Spider-Man does!" I try to rationalize. His head looks sharply to me, his eyes glowing red. It doesn't faze me, however. I've been on the receiving end of that look a few times, so I'm used to it. "Y/N, you're supposed to be on maternity leave!" He shouts. He holds up a hand, holding in a breath.

"Just...nevermind. You all knew what the risk here was! Gwen! You did! And you-!" Miguel looks to Hobie, pointing at him. Hobie is sliding down a metal arch, head first, on his back, just...enjoying life. As if this is really just his entertainment he threw together. Miguel sighs. "I was gonna try to ignore you," he pauses, before looking away again. "I can't, I just can't-"

"I ain't even here," Hobie mumbles in his thick accent. Miguel shakes his head, his thumb and index finger squeezing the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head as he walks a bit down the platform. I glance towards Gwen, who is already looking at me, silently begging me to say something, anything to try and calm my husband down. I sigh.

"Miguel, darling," I begin. Hobie groans.

"You know, just as a heads up, how married are you two gonna be today? Because I'm debating whether or not to sit here through all the pet names," he says, very annoyed, as he gets up from his seat, walking over to me and putting his arm on my head. He looks down at me, expecting an answer. I let a glare linger on him, and I look back at Miguel.

Miguel turns around again, his gaze boring into my eyes. "You fixed the whole catastrophe on Earth 199999, we can fix this. Don't go so hard on the kid!" I exclaim, gesturing towards Miles. He puts one hand on his hip, and another up to drag across his face, stretching it out.

"No, no, Y/N. He blew another hole in the multiverse! And that little...nerd and Doctor Strange fixed it. Not me! I'm just there to clean up stuff they don't know about so their lives can continue on, all happy and perfect!"

We all stay silent. Hobie lets out a low whistle, and Lyla appears on my shoulder. "I think he's projecting again," she whispers in my ear.

Miguel gestures for me to come over, once his platform has hit the ground, and I sigh, walking over.

"Can you just-just take my side on this? You've seen what these things can do," he murmurs lowly.

"Frankly, I think you should go lighter on him. He hasn't been here for more than 10 minutes, this is all very new. Quit yelling!"

"Uh-oh, mommy and daddy are fighting!" We hear a different, slightly older voice calling.

Hobie calls out. "Oh boy! Humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived!"

Miguel's whole body tenses, and his eyes shut with annoyance and anger. I turn to the door, and in walks Peter B. Parker. The man who practically trained Miles, and the man who thinks he's Miguel's best friend.

He walks in wearing a pink robe over his spider suit, and a baby carrier, but, no baby. He chuckles, a warm smile on his face. "Besides, Y/N's right, don't be so hard on the kid. He had a terrible teacher! He had no chance!"

"Peter!" Miles bounds over to him, giving him a big hug. Peter chuckles, patting his head. "Hey, kid! Don't mind my friend Miguel here, he looks scary but he's got no bite!"

Miguel growls, turning his back towards everyone, mumbling some curses, followed by Peter's name. Peter then makes eye contact with me. "Y/N! You're getting so big!" Miguel turns his head around sharply, his eyes glowing and his fangs baring with rage at his comment.

He winces immediatley. "Forget I said that."

Miles begins to ask him a string of questions, but his eyes travel down to the baby carrier. "Wait-what's is that? You have a baby!" He asks, pointing to it. Peter pats the carrier proudly.

"I have a baby!" He exclaims, mimicking Miles' excitement. At that perfect moment, Mayday crawls down from the ceiling, cooing. I get happy instantly, and she sees me, and squeals. She begins crawling on the walls, cooing and talking to herself in a string of babbles as I wave towards her, beckoning her over.

"Kid's an anarchist," Hobie mutters to himself. I frown at him, but I can't help but feel a bit of amusement at this.

"Don't forget to keep your daypass on, honey!" He calls out. He chuckles, and he begins to climb up the wall too, calling out to his child. Miguel shakes his head, letting his head rest in his hand, muttering "no puedo más," in a low, stressed voice. I put a hand on his back.

"Sólo aligerar (just lighten up), it's a baby, amor."

"¡No voy a entrar en esto ahora mismo! (I am not getting into this right now!)" He hisses, I hold my hands next to my head, signalling fake surrender, and turn back to father and daughter.

Peter laughs, reaching out for Mayday, but she swings away with her own webshooters. She swings next to me, landing on one of the consoles, and I pick her up, nuzzling my nose against hers.

"I knew I was gonna regret making her that webshooter, I shouldn't have done it, that's an actual mistake." Peter hops down, watching me as I play with Mayday. She reaches out to Miguel, and I put her on his shoulder. Besides, I'm not supposed to be carrying anything heavier than 20 pounds. Miguel just stares ahead. Peter perks up again, taking out his phone. "You guys wanna see pictures?"

He runs over to Miles and Gwen, putting his arms around their shoulders.

"Are-are you sure? She's right there..." Gwen trails off when Peter turns on his phone. "This one is the studious one, and-and, oh! The next one you're gonna crack up! Oh-oh, Miguel's gonna die" He laughs. I beam at him. He seems so proud and such a loving father. I put a hand over my pregnant belly.

Peter runs over to Miguel, showing him pictures. "You know I'm trying to hold a serious, adult conversation here," Miguel says quietly as he tries to keep staring ahead. Mayday crawls all over him, sometimes hitting him gently. Peter groans.

"You know, you're the only Spider-Man who isn't funny, we're supposed to be funny!"

"The fate of the multi-verse-"

"You always lose me with that!. You say "the fate of the multiverse," and my brain dies!" He exclaims. Mayday rolls on Miguel's shoulder, sqeualing when she falls. Miguel catches her, holding her like a....football. I roll my eyes. "Será mejor que no seas así cuando tenga a tus hijos (you better not be like this when I have your children)," I say to him. He shakes his head, his eyes wide with shock and offense. "Wha-I-no! I'm just not the biggest fan of the Parkers! Sabes que puedo ser muy amoroso cuando él no está aquí para molestarme, ¿verdad, mi amor? (you do know I can be very loving when he isn't here to annoy me, right my love?)" He says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice to a level so that only I could hear it. I put my hands on my hips, giving him a 'then show it,' look. Peter puts his hand over his heart in mock offense.

"Wow, you truly hurt me. And Mayday. You want a baby's feelings being hurt on your conscience?" He stops, and sniffs the air, then looks at Mayday. "You smell that guys? Mayday took a crap. She's a Parker!" He calls out, taking her from Miguel and walking towards where he came in. "That's what hapens when a Parker eats an avocado..."

Miguel sighs, walking over to me and putting his forehead on the top of my head defeatedly, shutting his eyes. He's exhausted, I know that, and our height difference allows us some very interesting advantages. I reach around his neck and pat his head like a little kid as I watch Hobie pick Mayday up, saluting her.

Miguel straightens again, stepping away from me. He addresses Miles again, this timecalmer, but he's still annoyed. With everyone around him. Well, not me. I smirk. He could never be too annoyed with me.

"Miles," he begins, putting his hands on his hips. "You disrupted a canon event.

"Canon event?" Miles asks, but before Miguel can explain, Peter B. pops up again, a full spider web now formed as Mayday crawls and bounces on it.

"The kid wasn't thinking. That's not how he works!"

"That's insulting."

Miles takes a few steps to the right, looking at the ground thinking. "Wait," he looks bakc up at Miguel. Miguel raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "What are you upset about, I saved those people!"

Miguel fully steps off his platform. I give him a look, silently shushing him.

I take a step towards Miles, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking at him. "That, unfortunatley, is the problem here," I sigh, looking at him, implying an apology with my tone. Confusion is etched onto his face, and I can't blame him.

"Lyla," Miguel calls out. The hologram appears. "Do the thing."

"The thing?" I ask. Lyla smirks. "What thing?" She continues for me.

"What do you mean, what thing? The information explain-y thing!"

I scoff, taking my hand off of Miles' shoulder. "You're sounding like a mob boss, sweetie. We're not that kind of powerful," I tease, poking him in the side. Lyla laughs, but pulls up the vast, complicated web of canon events, similarities, and differences of all the Spider-People.

"Woah."

Miles steps forward, turning in a circle around himself, oogling at the intricate design.

"What's this?" He breathes out.

"This, is everything."

[artemiseamoon]

What the heart wants

Pero Tovar x F Reader*

🤶🏾🎁Secret Santa fic ✨ for @blueeyesatnight !!! ✨ Happy holidays! (event hosted by @pedrostories )

Read below * or on A03

Words: 7,621

Summary: As Spring rolls around, you find yourself content with your life. Business is successful, you have all the independence you want and good friends to share life with. A man wasn't something you needed or were seeking at the time as occasional lovers fulfilled your primal urges. But it was clear, life had other plans as a handsome but dirty mercenary blew through your doors.

Warnings: some canon period misogyny (not much), Pero 😂, language, brothel mention & mild sexual content.

*Reader notes: there are some details!!! So it’s not a completely blank slate; reader is female, in her upper 30s, sturdy/curvy built (visualize as you please) & often wears pants not dresses. No skin tone/race mentioned but she does understand & speak some Spanish. *Feel free to read as an OC if you prefer*

AN: If you already know me, you know I no longer crosspost to this site, nor write reader inserts. Since this is a special occasion, it’s both a RC & crossposted (here & on my A03) 😁 happy reading! This was so fun to write.

You

Holding the cuff to the afternoon light, you examined your work closely, feeling satisfied with the end result. Growing up the daughter of a blacksmith, you learned several things, and though you could make a sword, you quickly found you preferred making jewelry; it filled you with joy, especially when you saw the end result and the look on people's faces.

You had kitchenware under your belt too, it was the kind of thing that always bought in coin, as it was a needed everyday item. Currently, you are perfecting your skills in armor making. You started to learn back in your early 20s, now in your late 30’s you could create decent work, but you wanted to be better. Never one to back down from a challenge, you made it your newest goal.

You just set the new cuff aside when the small bell chimed, filling the halls with the familiar sound. Stepping away from the desk, you peeked out of the doorway and down the hall, where you had a straight shot of the front door.

You quirked a brow as a man you’ve never seen before stalked in, the wind sweeping inside with him, along with a bad mood like a dark cloud overhead. Upon first glance, he almost seemed inconvenienced, yet you saw him walk in alone, no one forced him.

He was handsome with dark features, but dirty, and needed a good shave. The stranger wore the kind of scowl that would keep people ten feet away from him. His attire and the double swords strapped to his back gave his profession away, a mercenary. They often traveled through these parts en route to somewhere else and stayed a night or two; it made good coin for the local businesses when they did.

You thought about revealing yourself but chose to watch him a little longer. You observed him as he moved deeper into the shop, his eyes moving about the place as he took it in.

He scratched his beard, grumbling something you couldn’t hear, as he touched and poked at things along the way. He was a fascinating creature to watch, and one of the best-looking men you’ve seen in a long time, even under all the dirt and grime, and the sharp chip on his shoulder. That’s when you noticed the scar, one that made you curious about the how, and made him even hotter at the same time.

Even his walk was attractive, he seemed more like a wild animal than a man, like a feral wolf just wandered into your shop and right into your hands.

Pero (minutes ago)

Dragging his feet, Pero made his way through the town, eyeing signs on doors and windows, looking for work. He was tired, bone tired, his back hurt like all hell, his ass was numb from being on his horse so long, and he was annoyed. He was starving, he ran out of rations early this morning and was running on a piece of stale bread at the moment. He’d try one more place, then get some damn food, followed by a room, a bath, and a whore.

He was about halfway down the block when he noticed the blacksmith sign. In his half hour here, it seemed West Meadow had no work for him requiring his swords, but a man could always be useful in a shop like that.

Pero entered, his stomach grumbling and fighting with him. He expected to see a forge as soon as he walked in but was met with a plain room with a simple desk, two chairs, and a long table. Ahead was a hallway that likely led to some other rooms. The smells of iron, steel, wax, and fire met his nose, there was definitely a forge, maybe in the back.

Where the hell was everyone?

Patience wasn’t a friend of his. He called out and was only met with his own echo.

Cursing under this breath, he decided to ditch this plan for now, and just get some food. A door opened in the distance. He turned, expecting to see a man appear, but a man it wasn't.

Pero tilted his head to the side as his eyes raked over you. You were beautiful, with a face that was downright distracting, but that wasn’t all, when you smiled, you nearly knocked his bad mood right out of him. Your smile was so full and bright that he finally understood what that stupid saying, bright as the sun, meant.

You were well-built, sturdy, and curvy in the right places. That was clear even with the heavy apron you wore. Pero raised his eyes back to your own. Even the smudges on your face and a mask over your hair didn’t take away from your beauty.

Pero regained his composure, then asked gruffly, “who's in charge?”

Your smile dropped, “well, hello to you too.”

“Where’s your husband or father?”

“Are you serious?” you rested a hand on your hip.

His eyes dropped to your hand, you were wearing gloves, so he didn't know if you wore a ring or not, “Brother?”

An irritated laugh fell out of you as you shook your head.

“Unless…” he started, “you’re alone here?”

“I am the owner, you ass.” you held up your hands, then tore off a glove, “no husband either!”

He looked at you with disbelief in his eyes, “a woman alone, here? "his accent coming out even more now.

“Yes,” you growled back at him, growing more agitated.

Your initial sunny demeanor was gone, now you were like a cat with your claws out.

“Lo siento, “he held out a hand as he apologized like he was trying to calm a bull, “I’m just looking for work.”

He had a lot of questions.

A woman was usually married, which you weren’t, taken, or would be under her father's supervision, which you weren’t either. Or a whore, which you didn’t seem to be. You also claimed to run this business on your own, which was unusual. And you didn’t have a man guarding the door either, you were strange in fact, very strange.

“Not hiring,” you replied in Spanish, which made him raise a brow at you. “You can go now.”

You & Pero

What an ass.

You thought, sure he was hot, and you were very intrigued, but you didn’t need the attitude or the barbaric mindset. There were enough assholes in town who had opinions about you, and the kind of life you should live. You didn’t need some dirty mercenary putting his two cents in the matter.

You only made it a few steps away from him before stopping, you could feel him lingering, his eyes on you. You doubled back. You assessed him with your eyes and pulled the mask fully off your head.

Maybe he could be useful, you thought. “What are you good at?”

He smirked, taking a half step your way, “You really the boss?”

“Yes.” you hissed.

“Swords, blades, knives.” he paused, his eyes still on yours, even as he pointed at his suit, “repairs.”

“Hmmm,” you crossed your arms while continuing to study him. “I do all that. No need for you.”

He chuckled. Yeah, he liked you, he liked you a lot. Before he could stop himself, he asked,

“Is this really your place? No man is hiding back there?”

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the door, “see the name on the fucking sign, that’s my last name. My father is too old to work, I have no brothers, this place is mine. Got a problem with that?”

He smirked, liking the sass, this kitty scratches. “No problem.”

You locked in a stare with him, almost getting distracted by his eyes, you could lose yourself in them. In the back of your mind, you thought about the long list of things you had to do, and an extra hand around here might be good, but you weren’t sure if you’d reveal that to him yet.

You pointed to the door, “I’ll think about it. Come back tomorrow.”

Pero was about to say something when the door opened, he turned to see a man enter, then quickly looked at you again, seeing your smile return. Damn, it was a sight to see.

The man moved right past Pero like he wasn’t there and went straight to you. As you greeted each other, you pulled a pouch out of your apron and revealed a metal wristband.

“I was just about to send word, it’s finished,” you display your work proudly.

Pero grinned, a woman metalsmith, how odd. You continued to intrigue him by the second.

“Lovely work as always,” the man said your name while admiring it.

Your eyes darted to Pero’s. “Tomorrow,” you repeated sharply.

Pero huffed, then saw himself out.

.

Early Evening, The Three Bucks Inn & Tavern

As Pero parked himself at a table off to the side, he took in his surroundings. The Tavern was busy with locals, and a few people who looked like visitors.

“Can I get ya anything?” the barmaid asked as she stopped by this table, she spoke over the crowd, making sure he could hear her.

“Food and ale,” Pero answered while slapping the silver coins on the table.

She pocketed the coins. “Anything else?”

Pero sat back, really looking at her this time. The woman was good-looking, a little thin for him, he preferred them thicker. Like that woman from the shop, you were sturdy, you could handle him. He shrugged the thought away. A whore would be better anyway, get in, get laid, go to bed.

“A room and a whore,”

He’d been on the road for months, he needed to fuck a woman as bad as he needed a good bath and a shave. Plus, a good night's sleep, on a bed for once. He was getting older; all the years had taken their toll on his body. He was still skilled and quick on his feet, but he required more rest now.

“I’ll get ya a bed.” she pointed toward the door, “Take a left past the carriage house. Walk till you reach the end of West Street. Madame Mae’s is the last house on the corner. No missing it. Red door. Just about as subtle as you are.”

Pero frowned as the woman left to fulfill the order.

He was looking forward to a hot meal, real food, not the shit he was surviving on for the last few months. He hoped the whores at Mae’s were decent, he’d fuck what he could get, but someone nice to look at would be even better.

Well, you would be better. He tried to put you out of his mind, but like a phantom, you wouldn’t leave, he kept thinking about your smile, your form, and the way you shot venom with your eyes when he pissed you off. If you know how to forge metal, you could likely use a sword too, and the thought made his cock twitch.

The whore would have to do it, but you would be better.

.

Later, Pero

Now that Pero had a bath, a shave, and a satisfactory fuck with a decent whore, a good night's rest was next. But it was still a little early and he was feeling restless.

Mierda

Maybe he should have gone with William. But what the fuck would he have done with himself? His blonde-haired friend had done the foolish thing of falling in love and doubled back to the place they left behind nearly a year ago. After they left the wall, they spent months on the road, taking jobs and for Pero at least, trying to get China out of his mind.

Pero’s solo journey wasn’t going so well, and if had to spend another 3-5 months on horseback, starving, cold, horny, and bearing the weather, he’d kill someone. A lot of someones.

Pero wanted to stop moving, just for a little while, make some money at the same time. A lot of money, preferably. He already spent most of this year and last on the move, and if this town had no work, he’d just drag himself to the next.

Soon his restlessness, and busy mind led him to leave the bed. Leaving the inn, he stepped out onto the street, the townspeople were enjoying the weather, and the night market was still going, though some vendors were starting to pack up.

Pero only walked a few minutes before he saw you again. You were chatting with a vendor, a woven basket in one hand, full of various items. You were dressed in a dark tunic tucked into dark pants and boots, with a blade holstered to your right thigh. He expected to see you in skirts outside of the shop, but again, you were no ordinary woman, not by any stretch.

Pero lingered in the background, watching, soon he heard your laugh for the first time. Fuck, it was wonderful, just as wonderful as your smile. You were both the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, and mean as a snake when pressed, you also looked like you could throw a punch, and he liked that.

As the vendor made you laugh again, Pero felt something else and wanted to kick himself for it. He spent a total of 5 minutes with you, what the fuck did he have to be jealous about? He chalked it up to his sleep-deprived state, and maybe needing to get laid again tomorrow - that should calm him down.

There you were, his shadow, and all it took was 5 minutes. He thought about you all day, in the bath while he jerked off, and even when he fucked that whore. Pero felt ridiculous. Maybe William wasn’t the foolish one, maybe it was him.

Before he could stop himself, his feet were moving as he made his way over to you.

You

You felt eyes on you the whole time but could finally pinpoint the source. There he was, coming your way. All dark and broody and sexy as hell and cleaned up.

“Oh, the brute. Are you stalking me?”

He grunted, “No.”

“Sure?” You smirked as you shifted the basket to your other hand. “Because stalking is not a good way to get hired. In fact, it’s creepy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cariño. If I want a woman, I pay a whore.”

You raised your brows at him, what you were feeling wasn’t offense, it was something you couldn’t put your hands on.

“Well, the next time you go, why don’t you ask for a job. Maybe they’re hiring.” Without giving him time to respond, you were off, taking long strides away from him.

No matter how hot he was, he was irritating as hell. Brute, yeah, that was a good fit and that's what he was. The last thing you needed was to get involved with a guy like him.

No. Do not go there, you remind yourself. Even if he was hot as sin.

.

The next day, You and Pero

You were just setting up for a ring you’re working on, then the bell chimed.

It was much too early for clients, and there was only one person you could think of who would be here right now. You weren't sure if you hoped it was him, or dreaded the possibility. Leaving the work desk, you stepped out into the front room and saw him standing there.

“Ugh.” You sighed then headed back into the other room.

In the back of your mind, you thought of bringing your dogs next time, so they could watch the front door.

Pero took it upon himself to follow you inside. You leaned against the desk with crossed arms.

“What?”

“You said come back tomorrow.”

You were listening, well, half listening. He looked even better than he did yesterday, in the light of day, you could fully appreciate all the grooming he did.

As you noticed last night, he got a haircut, but it was still long enough to grab, to run your finger through. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes slid down his face, over his excellent bone structure, the cleaned-up beard, and down to his neck, even that part of him was sexy. You could feast your eyes on him for hours.

“Happy to see me?” He smirked, stopping in front of you, enjoying the way you greedily took him in.

“Not really,”

Pero's stance was confident, eye contact unwavering. “You need my help. Hire me.”

“What? So, you could protect me from men and beasts? I have a feeling you are both.”

He chuckled, fully amused, “I could,” he shrugged, “I am.”

“Besides, I’ve been in my share of fights. I’m good with sharp things.”

Fuck, Pero thought, your words hitting him right in his core and going lower. You were special.

“The team we’d make then, why not have the best swordsman on your grounds?”

You uncrossed your arms, "and you’re full of yourself, what a winner. I don’t need your help.”

Pero scoffed. “You’re short a man. Injury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, how did he know that?

Auden hurt his arm pretty bad last week, it was mainly you and him here, he was your main employee. You had two apprentices, but they weren’t where they needed to be yet, you were carrying the bulk of work on your shoulders. This handsome, grumpy stranger did his homework.

Still, he irritated you, so you said, “I don’t need you. You can go now.”

Pero hated that. He didn’t mean to be so rough when he reached out to grab your wrist, but he didn’t like being dismissed.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say, just grabbed you, making you spin around to face him. Your eyes burned with anger and something else more sensual behind that. Before he could speak, you slapped him, clear across the cheek. He was more impressed than mad.

As he rubbed his face and chuckled, you grabbed an unfinished blade from the table and pressed the sharp edge to his neck. His brown eyes widened as he stared at you.

“Get the fuck out.” You warned through gritted teeth.

Your lips, that’s where his eyes went, even with a blade to his throat.

Instead of a fight, a counter move, or a slew of curses, Pero's sultry gaze lingered on your lips, then met your eyes again. Despite yourself, you stole a glance of his mouth, and those kissable lips of his.

Sure, the mercenary was a pain in the ass. Whatever depths of hell dragged this man to your front door, you didn’t know. He was like a dog who kept coming back and you didn’t totally hate that. In fact, you -

The bell over the front door chimed as a customer came in. You both heard it, yet remained locked in a tense lust-filled stare. When you licked your lips, simply to moisten them, his eyes followed the movement. The bastard didn’t even flinch with the blade to his neck.

Why have a whore when he could have you? Pero thought, the idea followed by images that awakened him in other places.

“Hello?” The patron called out your name, you knew who it was by voice alone.

“One minute,” you shouted back, eyes still on Pero.

“Repairs, the two blades I told you about,” they said from beyond the door.

“I start now,” Pero stated with a smug grin.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He chuckled, finding your astonishment cute. Pero took one more indulgent, long look at you then stepped out into the main room.

Unable to move, the blade still in your hand, you stared at the door. Did he really just walk in here, hire himself, then look at you like you were a steak dinner? Yeah, he did.

“Pendejo.” You cursed, then pushed the door open. “I don’t even know his name…”

.

Two weeks later, You & Pero

Pero continued to annoy and intrigue you at the same time. He was a good worker, skilled, able to repair things and even knew how to make swords and blades. It was impressive.

He wasn’t a warm guy, which was obvious from first impressions, an acquired taste really. You kept him away from interacting with customers because of his harsh, curt demeanor, leaving him to mainly work in the workshop and behind the scenes, while you handled the front of the house, you, or your apprentices Nura and Robert.

You liked Nura the most, not that Robert was bad, he was a fast learner, and attentive worker. It was just extra special training another woman. You enjoyed seeing her defy the social norms and carve out her own path, same as you. You saw her like a little sister.

Everything ran smoothly at the shop, but the two of you still didn't know much about each other on a personal level. Pero didn’t talk about himself, or his life, nor did you.

Having him around gave you more free time, and you used some of that to dive into your other love, herbalism. One of your dreams was to open an apothecary, the town already had one, but you wanted your own, and you already knew how to make yours extra special.

This dream was on your mind when you cleared out a back room in the building and started to play around with tinctures and blends on your downtime. Pero made little comments along the way when he saw you in there, they gave you a few clues about him.

Being on the road, he knew a few things and recognized some of the herbs. He had a comfort there, but when you were creating potions as he called it, you noticed he’d get a little freaked out, and it didn’t take long to figure out he had a thing about magic and witches.

You weren’t a witch, but you knew how to make some things, and some days, just to fuck with him, you exaggerated.

- Flashback, to a few days ago -

You only stepped away for a moment but returned to see Pero observing the jars from a distance. He stopped at a corked bottle with an unusual purple hue, and some kind of clawed root at the bottom.

Pero picked it up cautiously, then put it down, “what kind of witchery is this?”

You leaned against the wall and crossed your arms in a relaxed way, “ingredients to turn you into a dragon.”

Pero whipped around to you with a suspicious look, “Are you joking?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “unless, you piss me off.”

“I always piss you off.”

"You better be careful then. And stop leaving your hair around, I’m collecting it.”

As you laughed and walked out of the room, he ran his palm over his hair, which only made you laugh more.

- Flashback over -

.

Three weeks later, Pero

The tavern was alive, packed wall to wall, and the revelry high; it was a special night as you threw Nura a birthday party.

Pero didn’t do parties, but it was better than sulking in his room alone, and he was pretty tired of the whores at Mae’s. He’s been here over a month now, fucked most of them all, and it did little to calm what he really needed and wanted, you.

Whenever he saw you laughing, having a good time, or flirting he was tempted to march over and claim you for himself, to kiss you in front of everyone and make it clear he would cut the head off any man who tried to win your affection.

Pero was sure you were attracted to him, he caught the stolen glances, still you never made a move or voiced your attraction. He knew you weren’t shy. Was it him? Were you doing this to torture him? What a wicked witch you were.

Even when he had two whores the other night, it only took the edge off. How you haunted him so. He felt defeated, maybe? But he wasn’t a quitter. He’d get you all for himself somehow. Pero wished William was here, the blonde would give him advice, advice he needed because Pero wasn’t good at shit like this.

Fighting, fucking, eating, and drinking, be had that down. But trying to win a woman’s heart, he had no fucking idea how to do that. He had to do this right. He didn’t want you just once, he wanted you for good.

Could it be, were you his...princesa? No. You weren't a princess. You we're tough. You looked after yourself and made your own way in life. No, reina, that's more fitting.

Where’s the Irishman when I need him? I could use your help amigo.

As a drunk man bumped into his table, Pero scowled at him, then lost himself in thought again, downing his ale at the same time. Things you like, yes, he’d start there. Women like gifts, right?

He noticed you enough at the markets to know some things, including your favorite dessert at the bakery. Good. A plan. He nodded to himself, then stood. He stole one more glance of you, across the way and having a good time, then made his way out of the tavern.

.

The next morning

Your head was spinning, too much ale. To make up for that, you pushed your work back to the afternoon and planned to take a nap upstairs once Pero got in. Last night came to mind, he was there, then he wasn’t. You were surprised he even came.

“Speak of the devil,” you said while rubbing your temples.

Pero nodded, looking a bit awkward, then put the bag he was holding for dear life on the desk. “Here.”

You poked the bag, “what is this?”

He scratched his temple, his brown eyes looking puppy-like, “uh, that sweet round thing, with cream and berries.”

You grinned, “from the bakery?”

“Sí.”

You bite back a full smile, then open the bag, “is poisoned?”

Pero sighed and then started to walk away.

“I’m joking!” you shouted back at him, “thank you Pero.”

He glanced back, and you swore you could see a little smile on his closed lips.

.

The week would be full of surprises. It started on Monday when he got your favorite dessert from Sweets n Breads Bakery. He was kind of awkward all day, didn’t say much to you, and seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.

On Tuesday, there was another pastry waiting for you, and some of your to-do list was already completed. He explained he worked late and decided to get more done.

On Wednesday, you arrived to another pastry, and flowers with dirt and roots still attached, flowers you were sure he tore from someone's garden on the way over. Soil was all over the place, and you had to dust it off your papers.

He didn’t hand them to you directly, just busied himself in the forge while they sat on your desk. You waited until he was free to ask him about them. He was just finishing his lunch in the kitchen when you joined him.

“So, flowers.”

His eyes moved over you as he swallowed the last of his food, “women like flowers, yes? Even women who wear pants?"

Pero was panicking a little this morning, worried the pastry wasn't enough. On the way to work, he saw a guy give a girl flowers, and then get a kiss in return, so he figured, why not try. Even if he felt like a damn fool doing it.

You could see his mind going as you watched him. He was so cute, so innocent in this moment, you could kiss him right there. You also knew from the mix of flowers, they were from Mrs. Jennings' garden, and she was likely throwing a fit right now.

“Ever give a girl flowers before?” you asked as you sat next to him.

“No,” he answered, his eyes on you.

“Well, thank you,”

He shrugged, playing it cool, but you could see in his eyes he was hoping you liked his gesture.

“And the pastry, it was delicious, you’re buttering me up, Pero.”

“You like them. Yes?”

“I do.”

He smiled and relaxed back in his chair.

You leaned in closer, playing with his collar, “I won't say it's working but - “ you plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes lit up as he smiled wider. “I have work to do.” You got up, taking one more look at him before leaving the room.

.

Thursday

Nura was organizing something when Pero came in, he walked in like he was in a hurry, and spoke in a low tone,

“I have a question.”

She looked up at him with a smile, knowing it was about you.

At first, she thought Pero was an ass, which he is, but she liked him now, he grew on her, and when it came to you, he was kind of adorable and an idiot at the same time.

“If it's about flowers, Mrs. Jennings is on a warpath, I recommend you stop taking them before she bites your hand off. She may be old, but she's mean as hell.”

He nodded, then came around the desk to join Nura.

“What else does she like? Boots? I could buy her boots?"

“She likes practical things. Maybe something she could use.”

“She likes swords.”

“She loves them, maybe a little too much.”

“What if I make her one?”

“Pastries and flowers are nice, so are boots, but if you make her a custom sword, that may do the trick. No promises, just sayin.”

Pero nodded, he grumbled a thank you, then headed back to the forge. Robert passed him in the hall and joined Nura.

“That's a man on a mission, nearly ran me over.”

“He’s smitten.” she handed him a note, "the supplies.”

“Somehow he seems a little less - grumpy these days.”

“Little by little, but I think even if he is in a good mood, he’d still be grumpy.”

Robert hummed, “I still don't get why she likes him so much.”

“I think I do; they’d be cute together.”

Not agreeing, but not going to argue either, Robert just nodded, then made his way out with the list.

.

Days later

You weren’t supposed to come in today, so when you came through the door, rushing like a bat out of hell, it took Pero by surprise. Not just because he didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow, it was the dress that shocked him the most. In all his time here, dark colored tops, pants, and boots were how you dressed yourself.

“I’m not here, ignore me,” you shouted as you rushed past him, then Nura.

The younger woman caught a glimpse of Pero’s expression and laughed.

“She’s wearing a dress..."

“Once in a blue moon, for special occasions. Her childhood friend is getting married today.” Nura explained.

Pero’s brows raised higher as you appeared again, a pouch in hand.

“A dress-" he repeated, taking you in with his eyes.

You hiked up the dress, he got a flash of your legs as you carefully slid the pouch into your high boot.

As you smoothed the fabric down, Pero feasted on you. To see you like this, so feminine as the soft flowing fabric hugged your form and for the first time, he had a good look at your cleavage, the fabric cupping your breasts in a way the loose shirts never did; he was a man ready to pounce, to scale the counter and claim you then and there.

“Fuck-“ you cursed,

He laughed. Strong and independent, a mouth like a sailor. A lady, and a warrior in one. His perfect woman.

“Can’t believe I forgot this. I gotta go,” you started to breeze past them, then stopped as you locked eyes with Pero. You grinned, eyeing him with the same sultry gaze he sent your way. “Like it?” You asked while giving a teasing spin.

“Sí, you should wear more dresses.”

“Maybe one more this year, if you give me a good reason to,” you winked at him then dashed out of the door.

“That woman -“ Pero shook his head as he stared at the door.

“Oh you are far gone Pero,” Nura patted his arm, “just tell her already.”

“Tell her what ?”

“How you feel. I’m sure you’ve noticed; she has other suitors.”

“And I’ll fight them all.” He grew serious.

Dammit, the thought. He came here for work, rest and to get laid. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t plan to -

Nura’s light laugh pulled him out of his head. “Just tell her. She likes you too.”

“She flirts with me but makes no moves.”

“You really are adorable when confused.”

“Adorable? I’m not adorable.”

She chuckled, “Have you considered that she wants you to make the first move?”

“She’s no weak woman, she makes swords and wears pants.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn't want to be perused, she takes charge daily, maybe she wants someone else, you, to take the lead this time.” She playfully tapped Pero’s head

He groaned and swatted her hand.

“Take the lead Pero, don’t overthink it,” Nura advised, then laid her hands on the counter. “We have a lot of work to do, ready?”

“Ready.”

As they headed back, he asked something he was curious about. He started by saying your name,

“Are you the same as her? No husband?”

“No, and there won’t be. I’m gay.” She answered.

Pero quirked a brow.

She added, “I like women. And I do have a girlfriend, the bartender at three bucks, with freckles.”

Ah, Pero thought, he’d seen her before.

“This is a strange place indeed,” he muttered, “I’ve never been to a place like this, with such women.”

“I like to think our town is special. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have people with opinions or those who accuse us of devil worship or witchcraft.”

“Are you, a witch?”

“I know some things, “she grinned, “can I watch you finish that armored plate before I start my work?”

Pero grinned, “Sí, vamos.”

The kid, well Nura wasn’t a kid, she was 25 now, but he called her that sometimes; she had given him some good advice about you and handled his moods with ease.

In Pero’s time here, Robert still wasn’t a fan of his, but they had no fights between them minus some minor disagreements. Your main guy, Audin, was still in recovery but came in from time to time to help with smaller things. His role reduced until he got better. Pero liked the guy, what little he saw of him.

In these weeks, Pero found himself most fond of Nura, she was like the little sister he never asked for. He could see why you liked her so much and why you took her under your wing.

.

A couple of weeks later

Pero studied his work with a sharp eye, searching for any imperfections.

Any other time he made a blade, it was robotic, just doing something he knew how to do, but this mattered more than any of those times. It had to be perfect because he was shit with words, he hoped he could hand you this and you would know all the things he wanted to say to you.

Months ago, if someone told him a woman like you existed, he would have laughed and called bullshit. But you were real, very real, and meant to be his. For you, he’d move into this town for good, put the long journeys to rest, and figure out all that shit he avoided all his life, like how to win a woman's heart and share his life with someone. He was sure he'd fuck up, a lot, piss you off, and get it wrong, but as long as he had you, he would keep trying to get it right.

Once the blade was packed up, he made his way to your house on the edge of town. He was nervous, more than he'd been in a long time, and he felt foolish. He wondered what Willaim would say if he saw him right now.

.

Pero stared at the door, part of him wanting to knock, and the other wanting to run, to turn around and get the hell out of here before he got himself even more wrapped up in this, in you.

It had to be witchery; how else would you have such a hold on him?

What are you waiting for, get moving, Pero heard in his friend's voice, phantom William pushing him forward. He could hear the dogs barking and coming his way in the distance.

Pero knocked on the door…

Once Pero was inside, you offered him a drink. He sat at your kitchen table as you poured ciders then went over to him.

“A home visit, what’s the special occasion?” you asked as you sat.

“Visiting the dogs." he smirked.

"Of course," you shook your head and took a drink.

Over the last few weeks, you’ve seen a new side of Pero emerge, and it made you like him more.

You’ve made the first move before and thought about doing that with him, but it would be so much more fun if he did it. You wanted him to charge in here and ravish you, and you were hoping today was the day, but the sense of nervousness you’re getting off of him makes you unsure.

“I have something for you,” he pulled a wrapped item from his pouch. He placed it on the table as his eyes met yours. “A gift.”

“Really?”

Pero watched, holding his breath as you unwrapped it, revealing the most perfect blade you’ve ever seen. Down to the handle, and the engravings. In the past, you made a few for yourself but always felt like you were missing something. Pero, this man sent to you from the universe, somehow got it right.

You held the blade, running your fingers over it, admiring it as your lips parted slightly in shock. At first, Pero was worried you didn’t like it, but as your eyes lit up, he relaxed and dropped his shoulders.

“Pero - “ you breathed, your eyes flicking to his, then back at the blade. “This is perfect.”

His small grin turned to a full smile and before you could say anything else, he dragged your chair closer to his with one hand. While cupping your cheek, Pero leaned in, bringing his lips to yours.

Smiling as he kissed you, you put the blade down and grabbed his arms. Pero drew you into his lap as the kiss deepened, intensifying with each pass of each other's lips.

His kiss was passionate, consuming, desperate and you could swear, your body was feeling all the things he wanted to say to you and was too afraid to say; the floodgates blasted open and as your hands roamed, finally exploring each other's bodies, you knew there was no going back after this.

"Mi reina, I'll fuck you on the floor if I have to. But it must happen now."

The hoarse desperation in his voice only made you hotter for him.

You tugged his hair while teasing another kiss, “I prefer a bed handsome. Follow me.”

“Gladly.”

You held out your hand, he took it. As you made your way to the bedroom, Pero latched on to you, kissing and biting at your neck, his hands moving over your breasts as his cock pressed against your ass.

.

Hours later

Laying on your stomach, Pero beneath you, you traced his scar with your fingertip. He looked as good as you imagined naked; he was delicious, and you allowed yourself to feast.

He had a map of scars from his legs up to his face, he was beautifully shaped, from his hands to his cock, to his broad shoulders and bone structure. If you could only have one man in your bed from here on out, you’d choose him.

Pero felt calmer than he had ever been, relaxed after the come down from your second round some time ago. The first was hot, rough, and fast, like wolves in heat under the full moon. The second time was less rushed and even more enjoyable.

You traveled the length of the scar, then met his gaze. "What’s this one from?”

“A time I was left for dead. The bastards tried to take my boots. I took their lives.”

You grinned, imagining him out in the field, and all his adventures.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a while, until Pero broke it.

“- quite the game we played cariño.”

“Wasn’t it,” you lay on his chest, planting a kiss on his chin, then on his lips, “but, who says it’s over?”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t seen your sword skills yet, we must duel.”

He chuckled, shaking you both slightly as it rumbled through his chest, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and…” you kiss him again, “there’s a whole list of fun games we could play.”

He quirked a curious brow.

“Well,” you nibbled his ear before telling him what was on your mind.

“Dios mio - “ he said with wide eyes.

“You know you like it,” you grinned, then kept going.

“I do,” he confirmed, caressing the back of your neck as the games you whispered got filthier and filthier.

God, you were speaking his language, and he wasn’t sure if you were real - well if he hadn’t just fucked you twice, which was more than worth the wait, he'd think this was magic, witches work, but you, and this, were all real.

You continued, spilling your dirty thoughts in his ear while now stroking his length with your hand.

Fuck, Pero thought, he’d keep you forever, even longer after that. You would never know another man because you were his.

Pero took hold of you, pulling you into an earth-shattering kiss before holding you against him.

“Good thing for you, I'm not going anywhere. You're mine now.”

You smiled against his chest, “I think I might not object to that.”

“Woman,” he groaned with a slight laugh,

“For you,” you looked up at him and weaved your fingers through his, “I'll make an exception.”

“Now that we’ve come to an understanding, I want food,” he sat up, pulling you with him, “then we fuck again.”

“I like the way you think.” You straddled his hips, teasing him a little before getting off. “Come on my ravenous beast, I made stew last night, and I must say, it's damn good.”

You slipped on the tunic and then made your way out of the room.

Pero slipped on his pants and followed, “as glad as I am to eat, I’m more excited about dessert.”

As you busied yourself gathering bowls, Pero watched from the doorway. As good as it felt to have you, as happy as it made him to see your reaction to the blade, he couldn't shake his sense of worry. When he said you were his, you replied with a maybe, well, not exactly, you said,

“I think I might not object to that.”

Might not

That didn’t sit right.

He was all in, dead serious about it. If you’d have him, there was no one after you. But if you were unsure -

Pero called your name, prompting you to glance over your shoulder at him with that heart-stopping smile of yours.

“Yes?”

His doubts felt stupid, with the way you’re looking at him now, the light in your eyes, that smile. Still, he needed to hear it, he needed to hear it from your lips.

Pero came over to you, you could tell his mood had shifted. With concern, you turned to him and took one of his hands in yours.

“What's wrong?”

“I mean it,” he said your name as he cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes big, brown, and vulnerable as he stared into yours, “You’re mine.”

Your eyes softened on him even more, “lo sé.”

“Say it,” he demanded.

You slipped your other hand around his back, pulling him closer, “I’m yours, Pero.” you leaned in, brushing the tip of your nose to his, then nibbling his bottom lips. “and you are mines.”

The grunt that left him at your words was primal, like a wolf claiming his mate, and before you could say anything else his lips were on yours. That was all he needed, this was home now, you were his home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What about dinner?” you giggled as he kissed the length of your neck and bunched the tunic over your hips.

“That can wait, I need you, now,” he growled, walking you backward to the table.

“Wow, I thought food was your first love,” you teased as you took his hardening length into your hands,

“It is, but now it has competition with you, mi amor.”

You smiled as he moved between your legs, “say it again.”

“Mi amor.” he threw the tunic across the room and quickly covered your breasts with his mouth,

You ran your fingers through his chocolate waves with one hand, guiding his cock inside of you with the other. You moaned together as he filled you,

“I love you too Pero,” you purred.

You closed your eyes, pleasure pulsing through your bodies as you moved your hips together. Thanking the stars and sky above for their gift to you; the very thing you didn't know you wanted in the form of a grumpy mercenary who stole your heart and set your soul on fire.

No tags

More Pedro characters | More Pero

This was a special occasion, so I cross posted. Usually I just put previews on tumblr, all my other work goes to A03. You will need an account to view my archive. Lots of my older stuff 2019 - 2022, for now, is still on my master list here too.

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[punktactical]

GAG , cross guild ★

★

summary ; a quick round with the leaders of cross guild leaves the reader exhausted. unfortunately for her (you), there are many more rounds to come.

warnings ; 18+ content , smut , choking / choking on p , p-in-v , gangbang , slight blood kink , pet names , hispanic mihawk.

a/n ; second post, this was also taken from my one-shot collection on quotev !

★

★

the gold hook teased her neck, slowly caressing it. she huffed, eyes fluttering shut. the satin sheets wrinkled under her grip. soft slaps of skin could be heard, a towering feeling of pleasure overcoming her. "crocodiiiile..." she dragged his name out, voice shaking. his hips moved against hers, pumping her with his cock. she couldn't think, grabbing anything to steady herself. her hand fell against a familiar chest. "querida..." the chest rumbled as the voice spoke. she babbled, running her hand up the chest in neediness. 

"quit that."

the hook wrapped violently around her neck, choking her and forcing her to look up. she gasps, barely being able to breath. the thrusts become more deranged, now abusing her body for any sense of pleasure. she moaned, nails dragging against the chest she gripped onto. she screamed his name, tears escaping her eyes. "shhh.." a thumb came over to her lips, grazing over them. her mouth opens to moan again, but it's soon stuffed. she chokes on the cock, hitting the back of her throat.

"how flashy you look now, choking on my cock!"

she begins to suck, trying to deal with the lack of breath. her body shakes, the thrusts from behind never lacking. the hook releases her, now poking at her arched back. it starts from the top of her torso, slowly grazing down to the bottom, trickles of blood being drawn. her eyes screw shut as she feels herself coming undone. smooth fingers run through her hair, gently caressing it. the room fills with skin against skin slapping, moaning, and groaning. plus the sound of a girl cumming in delight. her vision is hazy, eyes flooded with tears. her mouth feels the sudden taste of salt, cum shooting down her throat. she is forced to swallow, drool dribbling down her chin, alongside the semen.

”so good. you did so good.”

she babbles, trying to choke up the right words. soft lips press against her forehead. a groan can be heard behind her, followed by cum running down her thigh. the three men watch in fascination, relishing in the scene of a fucked girl. 

she tries to moved but a firm hand on her wrist stops her. “won’t you help me, mi cielo?” the grip guides her hand to a tent in the spanish man’s pants. she gulps, rubbing the tent slightly. a loud smack is heard, a pounding pain now imprinted on her ass.

”answer him.”

she squeals, tears brimming in her eyes. she chokes, finally speaking. “…yes.” it’s a simple reply, but it was all the man needed to hear. unbuckling his belt, his cock is unveiled, slapping against her cheek. she’s faced with much more than just a quick round tonight.

★

[adora-but-ginger]

(Not So) Champagne Problems

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

summary: he had infuriated you, and you deserved a drink.

word count: 3.2(ish)

warnings: drinking, reader being at a bar, intoxication, drunk!reader, swearing, a stabbing and an injury, angst but also fluff don't you worry, a little bit of klepto tendencies, no y/n used, mentions of death?, brief talk of a lack of self-care, miguel having feeeeelings

a/n: it's one am and i crunched this out in two days so no beta we die like men (gender neutral). also since i don't speak spanish i used spanishdict.com, but if i messed anything up please let me know and i will fix it!

masterlist

one more thing! don't repost my stories, otherwise i can sense a real nasty cold coming your way that will last just long enough that it becomes annoying, and when you think it's gone it will come back for another week. don't be like that, you don't want that, do you?

thank you for reading! -ella

credit to gif owner!

By now, the sun had long set, and your vision was a little blurry.

You had to have been on what, four? Five drinks? And were surely going to be cut off if you asked for another. But you fucking deserved these drinks, after what Miguel had put you through. He had the nerve to bench you after you saved his life.

The only other thing he had was the audacity.

As you placed the remnants of the fruity drink back down on the bar, your mind swirled with what had gone down earlier that day.

"Where's our anomaly at?" You heard Peter B shout from behind you, a giggling mayday in the baby carrier attached to his front.

"I'm rounding on them now, Miguel do you see them from up top?" How Jess could speak into her comms without the wind from her bike getting picked up was beyond you. You were swinging through a train tunnel of this particular universe, tasked with trying to catch the anomaly alongside Peter B from below. Jess took the road route, and Miguel took the birds eye--there was no way this villain of the week had a shot at escaping.

"Yeah Jess, eyes on them now. Heading down."

Woof. Miguel got on your nerves more than you'd like to admit, but man did his voice send a shiver down your spine.

"We're existing the tunnel now, eyes on them." You answered for Peter and you, checking back to make sure he was still good before the light of the day enveloped your vision.

One thing led to another, and soon enough you saw what was going to happen before you could warn him. There was the anomaly, fighting Miguel, who stood with his claws out and fangs bared. This anomaly could phase between states of solid and liquid, and just as Miguel was about to paralyze them, they switched states, forming back to solid right behind him.

And sure, maybe you had a certain lack of self-preservation that made the team a little concerned, but you had lost enough in your life to get to that point. So that's why when you moved to block the anomaly's strike from Miguel instead allowing the hit to come to you, you didn't think much of it. In fact, you'd gotten your hopes up thinking that he might even be grateful.

But no, he was most certainly not. The anomaly was quickly taken down afterwards, the familiar glow of Miguel's red eyes painting your vision every now and then as the job finished up. The anomaly had stabbed you, not in anywhere too concerning, but it still hurt.

From there it was a bit of a blur, with images of the portal and the team and Miguel running through your mind, until you were in the infirmary with stitches in your shoulder and the tall brooding man towering over you with his arms crossed.

"You were stupid." He had said in the infirmary.

"A thank you would have been nice. My shoulder is the same height as your heart, and the anomaly had a perfect shot." You had scoffed at him, and his face had flashed with a look mixed between anger and something you couldn't quite place.

"And what if they missed and had gotten your neck instead? In no universe do I want to deal with you dying, especially right in front of me, for me." His tone had developed a softer edge toward the tail end of the sentence, his jaw clenching. He hated the vulnerability, and you saw right through him.

You weren't too sure what you and him were, in terms of a label. Sure, you'd been one of the first spider-people to be recruited into his (not so) little boy band, and sure you had seen glimpses of him that no other spider-person had seen, but the latter had only been done late after hours between shared cups of tea or as he laid in bed falling asleep holding you. But then again, he always had that stoic look to him otherwise, with his mountain of an ego and his asshole-like behavior.

It was complicated with him.

"Plus, I would have to deal with mess of your death." There it was.

You rolled your eyes and stood to get up, him walking to your side to help you maintain balance from the pain of your cells rapidly healing.

"For the next few missions, I want you back with Lyla."

You turned to him then with anger washing over you. "You're benching me?"

"Yes, until you can prove you're not going to do something as reckless as that again."

And then the argument broke out, and he fought you on your recklessness and its consequences. Well, fuck him then.

He never took the time to think about what would happen if the anomaly did strike him, heightened healing abilities or not. It's hard to heal from an impaling of the heart. And he refused to listen to anything you said to justify your actions.

He was so bullheaded and strict, and you were tired of it, tired of him. If he wanted to bench you? Fine. But he could kiss those late nights goodbye, no matter how much you craved his sweatpants and t-shirt look, with his fluffy, soft hair, his so broad shoulders, the fangs, oh the fangs, and his a-- enough.

Snap yourself out of it. You cursed to yourself and flagged the bartender down, your intoxicated state making your hand sway a little as you did so. The bartender looked over at you and shook their head, making you loll your head back in irritation.

Big mistake.

Rapidly shutting your eyes, a groan accompanied you as you felt the effects of the alcohol sink in. You had taken off your watch too which you severely regretted now, because not only were you about to glitch any minute, you needed to talk to Peter. He would know what to do, and the watch was the quickest way to contact him. But it was in your bag somewhere, and you would rather suffer the consequences than even try to look in that thing right now.

His spider senses must have been pretty accurate because not even three minutes later your phone was ringing, his name appearing on the screen.

He spoke your name into the phone upon your answering, and you chuckled as you pictured him in that pink robe, probably pacing in some rabbit slippers too. Not that there was anything wrong with that of course.

"Hey Petey B, what's up?" You tried to muster all of the shards of your soberness to sound as articulate as possible, which was not much.

"Where are you? Hobie said he saw you walk out after getting in a fight with the big guy, and we've been trying to get ahold of you for hours now!"

You snorted. "I'm fine, Peter, just..." You trailed off, the sight of a rather interesting wine bottle catching your attention.

Your name was called again, his voice reverberating through the microphone. "Hm? Hey Peter, Can I tell you a secret?" You whispered back, a giggle following the beginning of your little confession.

"Are-are you drunk?"

You scoffed and continued on disregarding what he said. "Miguel definitely doesn't want me sharing this, but he's being a big ol' mean bundle of muscles so I'm going to anyway." You looked around to make sure no one else was listening to your drunken ramble and whispered into the phone. "He'll deny it until the day he dies, but he likes being the little spoon." Another giggle followed after that, thinking of what else to tell the brown-haired father about Miguel.

"Yep, oookay you are definitely drunk, and in no universe did I want to learn that information. Where are you? Lyla--" You tuned out after that, focusing again on that wine bottle you fancied. It would make for a perfect vase, and if you could just avoid bringing attention to yourself--

"Hey! Listen, I have to get back home with mayday, but Lyla found your location and is sending for someone to pick you up, okay?" His concerned voice made you worry a little. Maybe he needed a little pick me up.

"Peter you should know that you're such a good friend, you don't need to worry silly." A hiccup accompanied your words of attempted comfort. "You don't need to have anyone come get me, I'm fine--"

That's when the pain started--your heart feeling like it was being ripped from you. The feeling surged through your body at a wicked pace then, with your nerves burning as if they were on fire. You felt like you could feel your molecules splitting apart, the pain circling through you for what felt like an eternity, when in reality it couldn't have been more than a few moments.

You hadn't glitched in a while, and you forgot how much it hurt and threw you off-balance. Add on top that you were pretty intoxicated, and you felt like your world was upside down, literally, because your vision danced, and you couldn't locate any solid surface to grab onto.

You must have dropped your phone while you glitched because it was no longer in your hand, and as your senses started to half-hazardly return, you fought to keep everything in your system. Yeah, you seriously regretted not putting the watch back on. Of course, they could still track it if it wasn't on your wrist. You should have just left it at the Spider Society. Or better, you should've just returned home.

But you needed to escape, and you weren't thinking clearly after you fought with Miguel.

Miguel. Stupid, cold, stoic Miguel. Hot, soft, sexy Miguel. Couldn't hold in his anger for the life of him and doesn't know how to properly process emotions Miguel. Sweet, aggravatingly cute, loving Miguel.

"You think I'm cute?"

The low accented voice made you whip around, your head catching up a moment after your body, making you sway. You stuck your hands out to catch yourself from falling off the chair, your arm hitting a hard surface.

Ow. Did you just say that out loud?

"Yes, you did." The same voice, unimpressed, crossed his arms.

There Miguel stood, clad in everyday clothes, jaw clenched and shoulders taught as he looked at you in your drunken state. "Come on, we're going home." He grabbed your arm from where it laid against his chest, lowering it while using his other hand to support you while you stood up. You could hear him say a string of curses in Spanish before meeting your eyes, an annoyed look reflecting from them.

"You can't just walk out of there into the city this late at night without telling anyone that you're leaving. Something bad could've happened to you."

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm away, reaching for your bag and missing a couple times before grabbing its handle. "Oh, stop pretending you care, Mr. 'you're off duty even though I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in'." Almost stepping on your dropped phone, you bent over to try to pick it up, nearly falling over as you did so, the world spinning. A hand lightly grabbed your waist to steady you, and you cursed at his subtle show of affection.

"You dealt with that by getting drunk?" He said as he helped you back up, placing some money on the bar. "That's extremely irresponsible."

"Tough talk coming from someone who gets his anger out by throwing desks." Why did he have to be the one to pick you up? Why couldn't it have been literally anyone else?

An annoyed huff sounded from him then, and you turned to fully face the spider. Giving him a good once over, you couldn't help but become a little flustered at how he looked. Yes, you were extremely fed up with him right now, but jeans, on that ass? Accompanied with the compression shirt he donned, well, you took a good drink of him in. Enough of that, he benched you.

"We're going home, come on." He tried to coax you from your spot again, but to no avail. You may be drunk, but you still were stubborn.

You scrunched your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "No. Not until you un-bench me."

You heard him take another deep breath, you clearly getting on his nerves, but you couldn't care less. "I took you off duty because you don't care about yourself and your well-being, and until you can prove that you're going to be safe out there, we'll find something for you to do."

He really had the nerve, huh? "Oh come on, you would have done the same for me, and you know exactly why I did why I did. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have taken my place if the roles were reversed.

He hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not to indulge your drunken challenge.

"I wouldn't have."

You snorted in response, pushing his hand away from you. "Liar." The floor was still spinning, but you weren't going to show any signs of that to him. You tried to turn around and wave for another drink to be brought your way, but the bartender paid you no mind. "If you think you can come in here and be mean to me, especially after earlier, think again Miguel."

He grabbed your shoulder then, turning you towards him a second? Third time? He was always more touchy when it was just the two of you, not that you were complaining. You heard him mumble under his breath, though he never talked that loud in public settings--you figured it had something to do with his fangs. Oh, those fangs, those--

Snap out of it.

"Dios mío, mi amor (Oh my god, my love). I didn't mean it like that. You know I would have done the same, it's just that..." He trailed off, and you in turn raised your eyebrow.

If he was going to admit anything right now, whether you were drunk or not, he was going to fully say it. "Hmm?"

He had let the last part of that slip out and was thankful that you hadn't said anything about it. Once he realized the situation he was in though, he begrudgingly continued. "I tend to not think as straight when I'm around you sometimes, and it leads me to make rash decisions. I know you did it out of care."

"And?"

His stone-like facial expression finally, finally dropped, and you could take that for a win in itself. "And I'm sorry for benching you, but you have to see where I'm coming from."

And maybe you should have dropped it there, for you were able to get an apology out of Miguel, which not many people could say the same for. But your liquid confidence pushed you forward, bringing a finger to his chest. He lit this fuse, and you weren't going to let the fire go out just yet.

"If you don't let me go, I'm just going to sneak out to join a mission anyway. Leader of the Spider Society or not, you're not withholding me from something I enjoy doing." You could see the conflict on his face, but you knew you had won; after all, you were telling the truth. Either he let you go on the missions, or you were going to find a way to get on one anyways.

But this isn't how arguments got resolved, and you weren't sure he was used to someone talking back to him. Arguments were solved with compromise, so that's what you decided to do. "Okay, how about this. I'm not used to looking out for myself, but I'll try to do it more, yeah?"

He visibly relaxed at that, and maybe that was what he needed to hear all along. He knew that he was in too deep with you, and after Peter had told him of your late-night outing, his senses got a little frenzied. He couldn't put a name to the feelings he felt for you just yet, or maybe he could but he was afraid, but all rational went out the window when he found out that you were out here, not sober, in a universe you did not live in, by yourself. It was a recipe for disaster, and almost gave him freaking heart palpitations.

He had rushed to your location, and whether he was still frustrated with you or not, he loved cared for you and wanted you safe.

You were going to be the death of him, and he would willingly follow the reaper if that meant he got to spend the rest of his time with you.

At your offer he relaxed a bit, maybe he was being a little harsh. "Fine, I'll agree to that." He saw your eyes light up and quickly continued. "But only if I join you the next few missions, okay? You really had me worried today." You nodded at that, and the ghost of a smile could be seen on his lips. This was a whole lot better than fighting. Giving you a once over, he could tell that exhaustion was hitting you. "How about we head back home, mi querido/a, y ve a dormir (my dear, and go to sleep) . You can stay at my place for the night, sleep this off. I'll get you some medicine to help with the headache tomorrow, okay?"

You stifled a yawn, and his heart melted at the sight of you. Yeah, he was in deep. "Yeah, sounds good." Just as he dropped the tension in his jaw and shoulders again though, your frame began to glitch. He reached both his hands now to your shoulders to ground you. Why hadn't you put your watch back on? Why had you taken it off in the first place? You were blinking furiously when you returned to normal, falling into his touch.

Without a second thought he took his own off and secured it on your wrist, after all he wouldn't need his until tomorrow, when he traveled again. "Where's your watch?" He raced out, holding gently onto you. Eyes wide and mind scrambled, the moment you motioned towards your bag he retrieved it, setting it on his own person before ushering you out of the bar. "Are you alright?" He hated that his voice held a tinge of panic, but his stomach dropped at seeing you glitch, knowing how the pain felt first hand. You mumbled a yeah, and he walked with you back to his place. Swinging would make you all the more queasy.

When you two got in the door, he gave you another once over. "Are you doing better, are you sure you're okay?" You nodded, and the next thing he knew you were against his chest, hugging him.

Maybe he was freaking out a little on the inside at this, but he couldn't remember the last time he had received a hug. Returning the embrace, he murmured to you. "I've got some clothes you can change into, let's get you in bed." He heard an 'okay' slip from you, and he led you to his room.

And as he tucked you into his bed before heading to go change himself, dare he say that his heart fluttered when he heard you speak.

"Thank you Miggy, I love you."

And as sleep lulled you into its song, he was left momentarily frozen, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth filling his chest. Because drunk words are sober thoughts, aren't they?

[ohoh-inmortal]

A Good man

💀Summary: A mission in Mexico doesn't go according to plan and you end up saving two children's lives. Ghost lets the vulnerability he had hidden so much slip a bit.

💀Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader

💀Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff, established relationship situationship, children!, Ghost being an emotional wreck, passionate lovemaking (blink and you'll miss it)

A/N: so this was originally half a chapter of a fanfic that I'm gathering the concentration to finish but I wanted to post something so here you go lol. If more people like it I might follow it up from here or just make a part 2.

Also this is no beta read and English is not my first language so if you see some grammar mistakes no you didn't.

Fucking with cartels had never been easy, but now you had fucked up. Your mission was to infiltrate a neighborhood in a town near Las Almas and the rest of the team would follow up to take down one of their bases and get closer to capture their leader.

The first part went smoothly, until you noticed the civilians practically fleed the neighborhood in an instant and lots of cars full of armed men coming.

You had managed to make it past the Neighborhood into the rural area. Your legs burned from running so fast and for so long, there was a pressure in your chest from agitation and your lungs were full of the familiar smoke of dirt, gunpowder, and blood. The noise of war around you made it hard to concentrate on where you were going.

Ghost was some feet away from you, into an abandoned construction and directed you to stop and cover. Your body was grateful for the break.

"We need to get outta 'ere as fast as we can. These bastards won't give up" he had to speak on the radio, as you were hiding in different places of the construction.

"Roger that"

"Let's move" he ordered.

But as you grabbed your weapon closer to you, prepared to run again, you heard a shuffle between the pieces of wood that you were sure had been a closet before.

Warily, you got closer as your hand rested on the gun on your thigh; ready to shoot if someone jumped. As you tore open the door, you were found with runny noses and two little bodies hugged tightly. The oldest on was maybe about 7 years old, and the youngest could have been older than 3 years old.

"Ghost, you copy? There are children in here" You spoke on the radio again, shocked.

"Children?!"

"There's two, they were hidden. I need help to take them to safety!" You said desperately.

"Negative. They're shooting at us, hunting us. It's too dangerous, both for them and for us"

Just as he ended that sentence, you started hearing explosions and guns again. They were near and you felt your heart sink. How were you going to leave those two poor kids scared and alone to die?

"I need you to come with me, I'm gonna make sure you are safe, okay?" You said to them as softly as you could in spanish.

The older one just nodded and you caged them in your arms, running outside. There you met Ghost, who as soon as he saw you with both children shook his head in disapproval but grabbed one in his arms nonetheless.

Soon you reached the extraction point, where an agitated Alejandro and Rudy were waiting outside the SUV and you could see the confusion on their faces.

"What the hell?" Alejandro whispered "We checked the area, and there were no civilians"

"They were hidden in an abandoned house" you explained "I couldn't let them there" you shook your head.

Alejandro just nodded and opened the door for you. On the other side, Ghost also sat in the backseat and Rudy got into the driver's seat.

The children's little bodies began to shake and tears left a clear path on their dirty cheeks, so you embraced one in each arm and rubbed their backs and arms encouragingly.

Ghost stared intensely at you, though you couldn’t figure out if he did it with admiration like Alejandro and Rudy or disapproval. Maybe none, maybe a mix of both. But the fact that he had such intense eyes plus his mask didn't help to calm the children.

He sensed it, so he moved closer to the door and away from you and the children, promising himself he would stop. He was used for people to fear him, the feeling should be nothing new yet something inside of him died when the fear in someone else's eyes reflected on his own.

He hadn't always been like this.

You noticed the kids staring at him warily.

"You must not fear him, he's a good man," you said to the kids in Spanish as you gazed at him "He protected you, he carried you here, remember?"

They nodded and their gaze softened on the soldier.

A knot formed on his throat and he had to tear his eyes from you and look away to the window. How, after all he has done, could he be a good man? Hadn't he killed thousands, a lot of them innocents and foreign to war like these children? How could you even dare to think he was good? You must be either blind or insane, he thought.

As soon as the truck stopped at the base he got out straight as a bullet to his room. He couldn't bear to see you now, he couldn't bear for you to see him like this; he was scared that accidentally he could let a bit of his tarnished soul slip and see the light of you.

In the meantime, you were in charge of the children so the team could do research to know who their parents were and what they would do with them.

You cleaned and fed them, and kept them distracted from the horrors they had lived just a few hours ago. Playing, drawing and reading tales with both until the sun went down and their tired round faces started to yawn. The older kid quickly fell asleep on the couch, but the youngest one extended his arms for you to grab them up.

His head was still a mess of fresh emotions and deeply set wounds, but he knew he couldn't just stay there for eternity. What he didn't expect was to see you pacing in the hallway quietly humming a lullaby, holding a small body against your own and caressing the messy-haired head on your chest.

You placed the youngest kid next to the other and when you noticed him, your gaze softened into almost a smile.

"Are you alright? We haven't seen you since we arrived here" you asked concerned.

"How are they?" He changed the subject away from him, and he sounded concerned too.

"They are fine, we played all afternoon so they got tired. Alejandro is looking for their parents or relatives" you explained, gazing at them.

He just nodded and silence flooded the room. You reached for your pocket and pulled out a folded paper, which you extended to him.

"They made this in the afternoon, they wanted to give it to you but we didn't find you"

He delicately grabbed the paper and his breath hitched when he saw it; It was a doodle of him in his mask smiling, and you, each kid grabbing one of your hands. In one of the corners, the phrase "I'm not scared of ghosts anymore" was written in wobbly letters and grammatical errors.

He traced his hand over the drawing, like if it was going to vanish any time, like he couldn't believe it was real.

You stepped closer to him and searched for his eyes, which were full of emotion. You knew he didn't like much physical contact but you couldn't find another way to show him how grateful you were without scaring him for good, so you softly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you said in a small voice "Truly…for helping me to rescue them. I know I should've followed your orders but…"

"You don't need to apologize," he assured in a deep voice. I'm glad you didn't follow them, he almost added.

"I wasn't going to" you smirked.

You hated how unpredictable he was, how he looked at those he hated and those he didn't in the same intense way. When you saw his eyes linger too much on your lips you knew you were part of the second group.

With a small tug on your arm he pulled you closer to him as he kissed your lips over his balaclava.

You stumbled until you reached his room and as soon as both were inside he pulled the balaclava up until his lips were uncovered.

His kisses were hungry, not in a lustful way but in an emotional way. Like he needed something to ground himself and that something was your lips. Your hands found his face, caressing it so tenderly it made him hug you closer to his body.

You parted from his lips a bit, catching your breath. Still, you gazed at him for a moment.

"You are so good, Simon" you whispered sincerely, your hands still gently on his face.

His hand traveled from your waist to the back of your neck, and he pushed to kiss you again this time deeper. Soon his hands started to wander and you ended up naked with his towering body hovering yours.

It was the most sensual and passionate you both have ever been. Slow, yet powerful and deep. The way he grabbed and hugged you hard but also caressed you so softly. His head buried in the crook of your neck and his hips between your legs, which were caging his waist as tightly as your hands did with his back and shoulders.

That, until he remembered how you make him feel. The confusion and frustration you brought along into his life, the vulnerability he had deprived himself for so long. His thrusts became rougher, but he couldn't bring himself to be cold or distant with you. Not after today, not after you were so gentle even when he didn't deserve it.

His hips stutter and by the way you moaned into his ear he knew you were close too. Your foreheads met as he buried himself deeply within you and you gasped when you felt waves of pleasure through you.

He hovered over you, his eyes intensely didn't miss a second of your face.

"What?" You asked.

Of course, he didn't respond, instead laying beside you. You sat on the bed, ready to get your clothes and leave in silence.

"Stay"

"Hmm?" you asked, not sure of what he said.

"You can stay if you want" he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to hide his face.

"Don't you mind they might see me coming out of your room in the morning?"

"No," he simply answered.

You gave him a little smile and lay down again.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

purple reminders

summary: carlos loves to mark what's his. word count: 3.7k warnings: SMUT – fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), spit, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum-play (i think?). cocky semi-possessive carlos. google translate spanish. this post is 18+. minors dni. note: reupload bc im pretty sure this fic didn't show up in the tags. dont worry. still the same filth, same smut.

taglist: @sluts-inc @sidcrosbyspuck @melancholyy-scorpio @coffeehurricanes @amsofftrack

*since this is a 18+ post, i will not be tagging you if your age isnt in your bio*

❃゜·。. ·°゜✼ ゜°· . 。·゜❃

You’ve always liked house parties. Free booze, comfy couch, no bathroom line? That is something you could definitely get behind. 

Lando’s penthouse is swarming with people, red cups littered all throughout the home. It was very reminiscent of your college days. You weave your way through the sweaty bodies, smiling at familiar faces as you push to the kitchen in search of your best friend and a drink. It’s of no surprise to you that the curly haired brit is mid-chug, with a group of boys cheering him on. With a quick side glance, Lando lowers his cup and shoos the group to the side to make his way to you.

“You made it!” He wraps his free arm around your shoulder, giving you a tight squeeze.

“Didn’t think I’d show?” You ask, looking up at him as he takes another drink.

Lando shakes his head into his cup before lowering it, “Never doubted you for a second. Cmon, get a drink.”

You serve yourself a vodka pineapple mix, and then turn around to join the mass of men encouraging Max to chug his drink. Lando moves over to make room for you in the circle, laughing at Max’s failure to finish his drink. 

“Lads, you remember y/n?” Lando ruffles your hair and you swat his hand away. The boys smile and greet you with a quick hello, to which you return. “You would never have guessed this, but she is a champion at chugging alcohol.” 

“And that’s my cue to leave.” You nudge his side with your elbow before excusing yourself from the group. 

You mingle and socialize with familiar faces in the crowd, playing catch up and pretending you cared about the itty bitty details of the lives of people you speak to once in a blue moon. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you only came in hopes of catching the eye of a certain driver in red, and he has yet to make an appearance. 

The room was starting to feel stuffy. Too many drunk people and not enough windows cracked open. You excuse yourself from another dull conversation, making your way to the balcony. You nurse your drink, swishing it around the plastic cup as you enjoy the quiet wind and the blinking lights of the city below you. You hear the door open behind you and get a whiff of the musky cologne. You don’t need to turn to know who it is, and you can’t fight the smile that makes its way onto your face.

“What’re you doing out here?” 

You finally turn around, the air being knocked straight out of your lungs. He looked good, a black t-shirt adorning his torso to match his dark blue denim jeans. His hair is just starting to grow out and his stubble chisels his face out nicely. He looked like a god. 

“Too hot in there,” You mumble, raising your cup to take a sip. “You?”

“Was looking for you.” 

The air gets caught in your lungs as Carlos saunters over to you and backing you up against the rail. He brushes your hair away from your shoulder, head tilting to look at your neck. “Gone already?” He mumbles, fingers trailing down your chest to hook into the neckline of your shirt, eyes peering over to stare at your chest. There are purple marks scattered over your breasts. 

“Someone might see.” You stammer, eyes looking through the glass balcony doors and the swarm of people mingling.

“They’re all too drunk, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He mutters, licking his lips before looking up at you through his lashes. “I did a good job, no?”

You roll your eyes, downing the rest of your drink before setting the cup down by a plant. Carlos releases your shirt, leaning on the rail next to you as he looks down at the city. The silence is comfortable, just the lull of the conversation behind the closed doors and the busy street below. You watch people dance and laugh, far too drunk to notice the two people standing too comfortably next to each other.

“Did you miss me?” He asks, looking at you.

“Did you miss me?” You counter, raising your brow at him. He chuckles, pushing himself off the rail. 

“Did you think about me?” Carlos’s fingers are back on your skin, this time to push the hair the wind so lovingly placed on your face. “And don’t ask me the same question, because the answer is yes, I did. I do.” 

You smile, nodding. “Yeah, I did.”

Carlos slowly leans in, but you’re quick to move your head. “Someone might see.”

He scoffs, “Are you embarrassed of me?”

“No.” You raise a brow, “I just don’t need to explain… this to anyone. Especially Lando.”

The boy smirks, turning his head to scan the crowd before looking at you. “Scared of getting caught?”

Before you can speak, he grabs your wrist and drags you to the opposite end of the balcony. It’s dark, away from the glass doors and the view of all the guests. Carlos’s lips are on yours in a matter of seconds, fingers tangling in your hair to pull you even closer to him. You quickly melt into his hold, hands resting on his toned chest as you try to keep up with the heated kiss. Carlos’s free hand grips your ass tightly, and you hum against his lips. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” You mumble as he moves his lips along your jaw and down your neck, “I’d think you missed me.” 

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head before licking a small stripe against your neck before sucking lightly. His fingers trail up your thighs, the tight pink dress riding up your thighs. You grab onto his wrists, stopping his movements. He pull away, looking at you quizzically. “What’s wrong mamita?”

“Carlos, we’re on a balcony.”

“And?”

“And?? And what if someone walks out here?”

“Are you afraid of getting caught?” He teases, posing the same question he asked you minutes before. You look up at him, showing him you were serious and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Would you rather I fuck you in a bathroom instead? Pass by all those people and risk one of them getting suspicious? Or wait until this party is over and I take you on my couch?”

Your cheeks heat up, and your eyes dart over to the balcony door as you contemplate your options. Your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of his fingers pressed up against your clothed center, eyes wide as your eyes meet his own. 

“Something tells me you don’t want me to wait that long.” He hums, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. 

“Ah, screw it.” You mutter, pulling him close and crashing your lips on his own. You’re quick to undo his jeans, pulling them down low enough with his underwear for his cock to spring out. “Be quick.” 

He chuckles, nodding. His finger taps on your bottom lip. “Chupar.” 

You oblige, taking his index and middle finger into your mouth. You bob your head up and down, tongue swirling around his digits. He chuckles, nibbling on the skin of your shoulder before pulling his fingers out. He pushes the hem of your skirt up your thighs, moving your underwear aside. You feel his wet digits running through your folds, before pushing into you. 

You moan softly, profanities leaving your lips. His lips find your neck again, sucking harshly at the skin as his fingers pump in and out of you. He trails kisses along the length of your neck, sucking and biting and you’re sure that by the end of this you’d have new marks to replace the old ones he had given you before. 

He pulls his fingers out, turning your body around and pulling your hips out. Without warning, he pushes his cock into you. You moan loudly, and his hand quickly clasps over your mouth. He pulls you flush against his chest as he fucks you mercilessly. 

“So fucking good,” He whispers in your ear, “Nice and wet. All for me.”

Your hands reach out to grab onto the railing, attempting to steady yourself. His hand moves from your mouth, down to your pussy, fingers pressing against your clit. 

The balcony door opens, and you both freeze in your spot. Carlos moves his hand from your clit, turning your body and using you as a shield to hide himself from the guest joining you. He pushes all the way inside of you, and you fight the urge to moan. You feel your heart plummet into your stomach as Lando as your gaze meet’s Lando, who looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“Hey,” He slurs, “Been looking for you. Carlos c’mon, I wanna introduce you to someone.” 

He waves his friend over in his direction, stumbling back into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, simply leaning against it as he talks to someone inside as he waits for his friend to join him. You hear Carlos groan, feeling his supple lips pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Raincheck, mamita. I’m sorry.” He pulls out of you, and you whine softly at the emptiness. You turn and watch as he adjusts himself and his jeans, smiling apologetically. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.” 

He walks off towards Lando, and you watch as Lando drags him into the house. You breathe a sigh of relief, head falling into your hands. You take a couple of minutes to compose yourself, using your front camera to look at yourself. There are already small bruises forming on your neck, one on your collarbone. It’s too small to be covered by your hair, and you make a mental note to scold the Spaniard later. When your hair is covering most of the hickies, you rejoin the party. You grab yourself another drink, spotting Carlos talking to a girl with Lando smiling smugly between them. 

A pang of jealousy runs through you. Something about the way he smiles at her and the laugh she lets out makes you sick. You turn away, deciding to immerse yourself into the crowd.

“Y/n!” 

You turn and see Daniel, and you grin. “Danny!”

He hugs you tightly, “Long time no see. Miss seeing your face in the garage.” 

The two of you catch up, the conversation flowing easily with more drinks in between. Time flies as you both delve into the details of your separate lives, ones that you both have missed in the time spent apart. You don’t notice the way Carlos watches you, eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. 

“Whatcha got on your chest?” Dan asks, squinting his eyes and rubbing his collarbone to show you where he is referring to.

Your eyes grow wide, rubbing the red spot. “Ah, allergy rash I think.”

Dan nods, looking around and smirking into his beer bottle. “You know, Carlos has been looking at us this entire time. And if looks could kill… I’d be dead. Overkill.” 

You go against your better judgement, turning in the direction of the Spaniard who stares directly at you. You turn away, cheeks tinging red. “Yeah. Weird.”

Daniel chuckles, “C’mon doll. You owe me one dance before he eventually murders me.” 

You giggle, taking his outstretched hand and following him to the makeshift dance floor in the living room. The hiphop beats blare through the speaker, and you move your hips to the beat. Daniel dances along, one hand holding yours to keep you close. Maybe the alcohol was hitting a little harder than you’d like to admit, and that for the briefest of moments the feeling of Daniel’s hand around your own feels a little nicer than you thought. 

“Mind if I steal her?” 

You turn your head to find Carlos looking right past you, and towards the Australian driver. You don’t comprehend Daniel dropping your hand and his response, or the way Carlos nods to exchange a couple more words with him before he finally looks down to you. A shiver runs down your spine as his brown eyes bore into yours. 

“Let’s go.” 

He walks off, and you follow him like a lost puppy. You weave your way through the crowd, trying to keep up with Carlos’s long strides. You follow him right into a room, and he backs you up against the door and effectively shutting it. The lock licks, and Carlos’s lips are right by your ear, hand gripping your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist.

“Enjoy your time with Daniel?” He asks, grinding his groin against yours. Your voice is caught in your throat, and you fight moan. “Would you have gone home with him if I didn’t step in?”

“No,” You whimper, “No no no.” 

Carlos smirks, stopping the movement of his hip to look at your face. You feel his fingers trailing down your arm, finding their way to tangle your fingers in his own. The same hand that Daniel had in his. “You sure?” Carlos asks.

You smirk, “Are you jealous?”

He laughs, looking out towards the window. The city lights illuminate his features, perfectly contouring every dip and curve of his fave structure. Your heart beats faster, and it’s like Carlos knows because he turns back to face you. His hand releases your thigh, fingers pushing your hair back so that he can look at the love bites along your neck. He leans in, kissing each one softly. Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the gentle touches, his soft lips, the way his fingers feel slotted between your own. 

“What if I was jealous, hm?” He asks against your skin, “What if I say that I was, that I am… what are you gonna do princesa?”

Carlos rests his forehead against yours, his amber eyes looking at you like he knows your answer, knows your next move. He fucking knows you like the back of his hand, and you know it. He nods, letting you know that you can move. You stare at him through your lashes, lowering your leg and dropping to your knees. You release his hand, your fingers undoing his jeans and pulling them down his legs to expose his thighs. You press soft kisses against them, feeling his muscles tense under your lips. You bat your eyelashes up at him, but he doesn’t notice with his head thrown back. Your fingers wrap around his hardened shaft, pumping softly as you kiss up his thighs. 

Your fingers hook around the waistband of his black boxers, pulling them down his legs and watching as his cock springs free. Thick, veiny, the head already glistening with precum. Carlos looks down at you, eyebrow raised expectantly. His lips are agape, ready to say something, but your tongue licking base to tip shuts him up. You smirk to yourself, tongue swirling around the swollen head before taking him into your mouth. Slowly, your head bobs up and down, taking more and more of him into you until he hits the back of his throat. With your hand on his balls, you continue to pump his cock into your mouth. Soft profanities fall from his lips, words of praise for you to encourage you to keep going.

“So pretty with your mouth around me baby,” His hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping a stray tear. “Making me feel better already.”

You hum, and he moans in return. Carlos’s fingers weave through your hair, holding in his fist as he slowly thrusts into your mouth. Your hands grip his thighs to steady yourself, letting your jaw fall slack and allowing him to fuck your mouth. He’s gentle, slowly pushing himself further down your throat until you gag. He smirks, pulling his dick all the way out, a string of spit following. 

“Stand up.” 

You do as he says, rising to your feet where he greets you with a feverish kiss. The kiss is needy, teeth clashing and messy. He pulls away briefly, hand cupping your cheek as he studies your disheveled state. A small chuckle escapes him, thump swiping over your mouth to rid of the excess saliva. Carlos kisses you softly, hands trailing down to the back of your thighs and lifting you off your feet. Distracted by his soft lips biting, sucking, licking on the skin of your neck, you don’t notice him making strides across the room to plop you on the bed. His bare cock grinds against your clothed center and you moan softly. Carlos’s lips make their way to your chest, with his one hand lifting the hem and pushing your shirt over your breasts. He straightens his posture, admiring his handy work. Your neck, chest, torso littered with his love bites. Purple reminders of him, reminders that you are his.

“Carlos,” You whine, “Do something.”

He smirks, slender fingers pushing your skirt up your thighs and then hooking onto your underwear to pull it aside. With his free hand, he takes his middle finger and traces your slit. Gentle, teasing, causing you to buck your hips begging for more. His middle finger retreats into his mouth, tongue swirling to collect your arousal.

“Sabe tan dulce.” Tastes so sweet. 

He pulls your underwear down your legs hastily, tossing the flimsy material somewhere in the room. With his thumbs, he pulls the lips of your pussy apart, revealing the glistening pink flesh. He sucks in his cheek, releasing a string of spit onto your cunt. You moan at the sight, spreading your legs even more. Carlos wraps his hand around his dick, pumping lightly as he leads the head to rub against your core, collecting the wetness before finally pushing into you. You moan at the stretch, the feeling of fullness as he bottoms out into your pussy. 

“Fuck,” You moan, fingers reaching for the man above you. He leans down to meet your touch, hips relentlessly snapping his hips against yours. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” He mutters, “Wanted to finish what we started.” 

Carlos pushes the mess of hair away from your face, clearing way for him to kiss you. His lips mold into yours, the kiss hard and passionate, as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. You can barely keep up, mouth unable to keep up with the rhythm of the kiss as his dick bounces you up and down. 

“Who makes you feel this good, mamita?” Carlos’s raspy voice asks, his breath fanning against your face. His hands grab your left leg, hooking it over his shoulder as his dick pounds deeper into you. You moan loudly at the feeling, and Carlos smiles devilishly, bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he admires the view below him. “Cmon baby,” He coos, teasing you, “Stupid off my cock already? Can’t answer me?” 

You can feel his fingers weaving through your locks, gripping the hair at the base of your neck lightly as he forces you to look at him. Carlos pulls out almost completely, before roughly pushing his cock back into you, begging for an answer to his question. Your eyes screw shut, “Carlos, fuck.”

“What was that mamita?”

“You Carlos,” You breath out, fingers gripping his shoulders, nails scraping down the expanse of his back, “Only you make me feel good.” 

“Mmmm,” He moans softly, “Left you so many pretty marks baby, remind you who fucks you this good. Remind you that you’re mine.”

You nod, black dots beginning to blur your vision as you feel the bubble in your stomach growing and growing. You are a mess of moans and panting below Carlos, fingers desperate to hold onto anything as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

“Look at me baby, wanna see your face when you cum on my cock.” You force your eyes to open, looking directly into Carlos’s amber eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. He fucks you harder, the sound of skin slapping against each other and the mess of moans are pornographic. You beg him not to stop, to keep hitting that spot right there, and Carlos eagerly obliges. His dick thrusts into you over and over, hitting that spot over and over until your pussy is pulsating around him and you are screaming his name. 

You don’t catch the satisfied grin on his face as you fall apart around him, the way he takes pleasure in your own. He continues to pump in and out of you, letting your ride out your orgasm and into his own. It its’t long until he’s coating your walls with his cum. Carlos collapses on top of you, a panting mess of his own. 

You hum softly, pressing a kiss against his sweaty temple and fingers gently pushing the mop of hair off his forehead. His eyes are closed, but his lips are curved into a smile. He looks peaceful, content. You lay like that for a couple more minutes before he pulls out of you. 

“So you were jealous.” You finally say, propping yourself onto your elbows and watching as Carlos walks across the room to grab his clothes. He doesn’t answer. You watch as he pulls his underwear and pants up, and then picking up your thong. He swings it in the air, looking at the thin material before stuffing it into his pocket. 

Carlos walks back over to you, looking at your bright pink pussy and his cum slowly dripping out. He takes his middle finger, collecting it and pushing it back into your cunt. You yelp at the sudden contact, eyes wide as you look at him. You feel his finger swirl around you before he pulls it out. He lifts his cum covered finger up to your mouth, and you take his digit between your lips without a thought. You suck it clean, releasing it with a pop. Carlos takes your underwear from his back pocket and gently pulling it up your legs to cover you up. 

He helps you onto your feet, and you look up at him. His expression is suddenly sullen as he studies your features.

“You said I’m yours.” You mumble.

“Are you not?” He asks, fingers pushing stray hairs behind your ear. 

“You never asked.” You defend.

Carlos takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom attached to the room. He flicks on the light and turns you to the mirror. You gasp at the bruises that litter your neck, dark and aggressive. The man behind you grins, lifting your shirt to show off his work. 

“Oh my god Carlos,” You breathe. 

“Purple reminders baby.”

❃゜·。. ·°゜✼ ゜°· . 。·゜❃

send me an ask if you want to be part of my f1 taglist!

[madlittlecriminal]

Hiii, I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could you write headcanons about the moonboys reacting when the reader wears glasses (it could be something sfw and nsfw)?

Thank you <3 <3 <3

Their Preference ✰ Moon Boys × GN!Reader with Glasses [headcanons]

you're welcome! hope you like it! :D as someone who wears glasses, i was so happy to receive this because like :')

Warnings: a bit of smut, i don't wear contacts so if you do i apologize if there's any mistakes, tour guide!steven because it's what the baby boy deserves, show's depiction of DID so i apologize for any errors, i speak spanish and my spanish might be different than yours

~from my 1K Follower Celebration, but im accepting requests for these three men

-NOT MY PHOTO-

You've been with the boys for about a year now, but they've never seen you in your glasses

You've worn contacts and always made sure you had a new pair

But then you ran out and forgot to get new ones

So, you had to wear you glasses

Unfortunately, you had to get your new contacts tomorrow since your eye doctor was already closed as it was past 6 pm

That also meant the guys would be home from Steven's shift at the museum as a tour guide.

You sat on the couch waiting for them to come home

When you heard to the familiar sound of his keys hitting the door, you smiled

He came in and was taken aback by the sight of you.

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

He tilted his head to the side.

"Since when do you wear specs?"

"For a while now, I just wore contacts before."

He grinned.

"Adorable,"

You felt your cheeks warm up at his words

Marc took control of the body next and would be in awe of you in your glasses

"You look beautiful, baby. You should wear them more often."

Then Jake took control.

"Cariño, te ves increíble con tus lentes puestos." ("Darling, you look incredible with your glasses on.")

They gave you the option to either forget the contacts as a whole or to wear them when you'd go out because they were obsessed with you wearing your glasses.

Regardless, they were always gentle with your glasses

Cuddles? They'd take them off for you since you had a habit of falling asleep in their arms

Hugs? They'd make sure you weren't too squished in their chest so your glasses wouldn't be damaged

Sex? Ha...on or off, they didn't mind.

If they were on though, they'd be gentle

If you wanted them to be rough, mostly with Marc or Jake, they'd take off your glasses carefully before placing them on the bedside table with such gentleness that you'd think their next movements would slowly ease into the roughness

Nope.

Maybe Marc would start slow again before pounding into you

But Jake?

Yeah, he'd show no mercy.

Either way, they'd each tell you how your glasses made you look irresistible

In ways where they would wanna hold you forever and showering you with love and affection

And in ways where they'd make love to you and/or fuck you

They didn't care though

As long as you were comfortable with them on, they were happy

At the end of the day, that's all that mattered; you being happy and comfortable.

[babeyvenus]

Nurse and Care

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!black!Reader

TW: Nothing but fluff and a child

1/?

After a semi-successful mission, you and the 141 squad were exhausted.

Missions usually didn't take longer than three days but being on constant edge and finishing up your tasks were no easy accomplishment.

"We need to camp somewhere.", Soap grunts out. You, Soap, Ghost and Alejandro leaned against trees, watching from a distance from your previous destructive position.

Each of you were scraped up, some a little more damaged than the others, but otherwise still standing.

You looked around, recognizing a familiar tree line past a hill and smiled a bit. "I got somewhere we can stay. C'mon.", you nodded your head and led them to a house big enough for a family of 6.

You ducked down, signaling them to do the same as you led them through a silent neighborhood to avoid questions. It was only hard because of Soap's constant questioning.

Ghost and Alejandro had to glare at him to shut him up, but he was just as curious.

Sneaking them in the backyard was the easy part.

Walking them up to the back door, you found a spare key in the plant pot next to the door and opened it. Peeking your head in, you looked around, finding the kitchen empty and walked inside.

The men cautiously walked in, looking around. Ghost took in the smell of coffee. It was bitter. He would've liked it if he wasn't in discomfort.

There was a shelf that held containers of Folgers coffee. They didn't look open, but he could smell them.

He watched as you looked around, finding the living room. He tensed up as you let out a patterned, cautious whistle.

A couple of seconds, they waited until they heard small, thumping footsteps. They got louder and closer from the stairway near the front door.

A little girl, seemingly no older than 8, came peeking around the staircase and brightened as she saw you. Her little curls bounced around her tiny ears as she ran to you, arms wide.

Smiling wide, you knelt down, taking the running girl in your arms as you two laughed. The men behind you looked shocked. Ghost was very curious. He felt like he intruded into something he shouldn't have.

"You're a mom?", Soap spoke up. You gave him an unimpressed look. "No.", you say. You might as well have been.

Ghost watched as you smiled at the men, holding the girl in your arms as if she were an infant, walking up to them. "This is Alice. My niece.", you introduced.

Soap and Alejandro smiled. "Could've fooled me. You two are identical.", Alejandro said, raising his hand to shake Alice's smaller one. "Encantado de conocerte, pequeña señorita."

You smiled. "This is Alejandro.", you introduced.

Alice looks at you with curious eyes. "Like my friend Alejandro?", she asks. You nod, "Yeah."

She turns to him with a big smile, "¿Eres amiga de mi tía?"

The girl's speech shocks the men. Alejandro's eyes light up as he nods enthusiastically. "Si. You speak Spanish?"

You shrug as she nods. "It's a learning requirement for schools around here. They're usually supposed to learn in middle school, but she's learning something.", you explain.

Soap raised his hand to shake hers next. "I'm Johnny.", he says, smiling. You, Ghost and Alejandro look at him in astonishment.

"Oh, she can call you Johnny, but if I do it, it's a problem.", you say, feigning offense. Soap looks at you with wide eyes, "I can't have her calling me Soap. She'll laugh at me.", he mumbles through his teeth.

You turn to Alice, eyebrows raised. "His name's Soap.", you say, much to Soap's disappointment as he looks at you with a dropped jaw.

Alice laughs, making you grin. "Kids are brutal.", Soap mutters. Alice turns to Ghost who hadn't said anything either. He hadn't bothered to speak up either.

You frowned a bit. Was he not good with kids? Was this a bad time?

He shocks his teammates, though, by stepping up and holding his hand out to the girl. Alice's smile never left her face and grew as she lifted her own and shook his giant hand.

"I'm Simon," He introduces. Your jaw drops. The man won't admit it, but he was unnerved. There was a child in the house. Surrounded by people that had weapons.

Was this really a safe place…? For them? For her?

Alice hums as she looks at the men, pointing to each of them. "Uncle Soap, Uncle Alè, and Uncle Simon."

You look at her with wide eyes as the two shorter men softened. "Okay, now.", you say, letting her down.

"Where's your daddy?", you asked the girl. She looked up at you. "Daddy went to go see his friend. He told me to hold down the fort.", she said, smiling proudly.

"You did a good job, too.", you praised. The men looked at you with a questioning look. You looked at them, rolling your eyes and mouthed to them, "He went to go fuck."

They nodded in understanding. Ghost frowned. The circumstance reminded him of his brother again. Having to take care of him and get him to do better.

Alice's mom, your sister, died a couple of years ago. It hit you hard and was even harder on your brother-in-law. He had to deal with the fact he'd had to become a single dad.

You tried making it easy on him by co-parenting to raise Alice, but having to be taken by your job constantly, it made him step up a bit. You appreciated it, but he was still kinda half assing being a parent if he kept leaving her to go "have fun".

Alice's proud grin got wider until she really got a look at all of you. You all looked beaten and dirty. She caught onto the scraped, bloody knuckles of yours and gasped, causing all of you to tense up.

"You're hurt!", she exclaimed. You relaxed, a small smile coming to your face once more. "Go get your first aid kit.", you say, making her grin and rush off. "I get to use my hello kitty bandaids!", you all heard.

"Hello Kitty bandaids?", Soap asked. "You got a problem wearing the bandaids, MacTavish??", Ghost asks, a light teasing tone to his voice as you all made it to the dining room.

"She already destroyed my manhood by laughing at my callsign. What's the harm in getting cat bandages?", Soap said, sarcastically. You and Alejandro chuckled.

You heard small, rushing footsteps entering the room. The small girl happily caught her breath as she showed her kit.

"There we go.", you praised, picking the girl up and putting her on the counter of the kitchen bar.

"Who's got the most injuries?", you asked the men sitting at the dining table. Alejandro was first.

You helped him with stitching his side while Alice was thankfully distracted and distracted him by finding scrapes on his face, replacing the exposed injuries with bandaids.

Next was Soap who welcomed the care from the little doctor. He was used to having his nieces and nephews experimenting on him, so this was no different.

After the two were taken care of, they were sat in the living room, it was Ghost's turn. He quietly protested, promising it wasn't bad. But with a fixed look you sent him and a pleading look from Alice, he sighed through his nose and accepted his fate.

You checked his heavier wounds which made him tense that he couldn't have his gear on in an unknown place, but understood it'd make healing and patching him up difficult for you to do.

Alice, not bothering with his mask, settled on giving his arms and elbows bandages wherever she saw a cut.

You had to deal with the bigger cuts on his sides, disinfecting and patching them up. He couldn't say he hated it, though the same thought ran through his head as he glanced at Alice.

She shouldn't be a part of this.

After that was done, it was your turn, happily letting the girl patch you up.

Ghost didn't move in the living room. Instead, he stayed and watched you and your niece converse about her day. Seeing something as normal as this was… a light feeling for him.

He could feel the corners of his mouth turning up just by a little though. This was your life. Your normalcy. And even for a second, he was a part of it. He was appreciative.

He even nodded along to Alice's questions, answering them as light as he could, much to your surprise. The crawling dread in his stomach almost dissipated, just by a little, seeing the little girl was still as bright as he met her. Not a single thread of fear lingered off of the girl, unlike some of the kids he's walked past in his neighborhood.

You let Alice run off to her room after finishing her nursing before turning to your lieutenant. "Sorry about her. She tends to go a little overboard with her… equipment.", you say, giving him a smile.

He shook his head. "It's fine." He watched your smile grow, thankful for his sincere behavior.

"She acts just like you. Mother Henning.", he mutters, making your jaw drop. "I do not.", you counter.

He looks at you, a challenge in his eyes. "Mhm."

You scoff with a smile, washing up to make some food. You all were safe for the moment. Wouldn't hurt to have some food until you find your way back to base.

Without a word, Ghost helps, much to your surprise. "Didn't know you cooked.", you muttered. "Just a little.", he replied.

Well, he was doing much more than you expected and helped make plenty of portions of the meals you prepared.

You couldn't lie, it warmed your heart a bit to have your lieutenant: the hard ass, blunt, lonely ghost of a man, help with something so… domestic and soft.

Kinda the opposite of who he was, or at least what he showed on the outside.

While you were in your thoughts about his behavior, he couldn't help but notice your sudden soft smile as you cooked. Nonetheless, he knew you were happy he just couldn't bring himself to question it.

[mimiiis]

El Mar (pt.2) (Namor x Latina!Reader)

(photos are not not mine)

Summary: Namor shows you something you never thought to be possible.

Warnings: All the Mayan used is from a translator, I apologize if anything is wrong. Cursing, mentions of fear, I think that’s abt it tbh !!Not Proofread!!

Series Masterlist. Prev. Next.

Word Count: around 9k

A/n: I am telling yall rn I was stressed the fuck OUT writing this 💀, not much happens but dw its all just leading to somewhere 🥹🙏

Words floated and spun in your head, an elaborate thread of language that you did your best to weave together as you wrote each word that crossed your path in the book before you. You wrote out each one in the English alphabet, translating the syllables you read aloud into a full word you could understand by connecting the pronunciation to its English counterpart. The process was absolutely time consuming, and it worked. Days passed since that night with Namor, and you had only thought of translating and learning the ancient language.

Something about that interaction seemed to have changed everything you had grown accustomed to. The women let you bathe on your own, you were given simple but still very elegant dresses, and they even smiled at you now. They may have been false but the faint welcoming energy made you feel.. happy? The young girl who had been previously frightened of you, now looked in your eyes and gave you a grin that felt like the warmth of the sun you missed.

You did your best to speak to them, writing and translating simple phrases like “how are you?” or “good morning/night” for whenever you saw them. You didn't know if your accent or pronunciation of words was correct, only going off of what you had heard those around you spoke like. Yucatec Mayan was very different from Spanish, though some words were alike. You delighted in glee when you translated a word and saw it was one you were familiar with.

The book you were given, Le Ujo’, was the main occupant of your time. You had only been able to translate a page or two, but even then you were able to make out the story within the papers. It focused around a girl, a girl who was like the moon. Her personality was described as cold but warm to those who saw past it, something about the few paragraphs you were able to read made it remind you of yourself. Her features were described almost identically like yours, you were half convinced it was written about you. But it couldn’t have been right? The pages were crinkled and worn, ink stains and blotches adorned it and so you believe it must’ve been a few decades old.

You did wonder where it came from, if the story was a part of the ancient Mayan culture that the world had long forgotten. If Namor and his people truly were still well preserved in time, they must’ve had a thousand stories to tell. The anticipation to quickly learn the language and demand to be told them all made your heart pound, it kept you going.

Being so busy now gave you less time to wander of the world you’d left behind, the subject still felt like a dagger in your heart when you did. It was only at night when you lay awake, causing a fit and moving every 3 seconds due to the unbearable thoughts of your mind, was when you’d wander back to your family and friends.

You came to think you understood Namors motives in keeping you hidden away here. Why he kept his people safe, their secrets and thriving life. These people were his own family, people he wanted to protect. The risk of a human running to the hills and telling everyone your secrets is not something you’d want to happen to you if you so graciously invited someone into your own home. You were so grateful to witness everything you had, but you still wondered why he hadn’t just left you on the beach. He explained his reasoning but it still irked you, how did he know about the men? About what they wanted to do to you? He said he felt connected to the sea, maybe the ocean called and told him. Maybe he felt what you did in your own bones, connected to that ancient spirit that resides in the depths of the waves.

The strangest thing was that when you thought of him, you felt that longing you always felt when looking at water. To urge to go to him and simply be there took a hold of you each time, it made you burn in either embarrassment or rage. You were unable to tell between the two.The resentment and the part of you that was simply human fought against each other day and night.

You tried not to dwell on that topic, the argument ringing bright and clear in your mind as you still tried to continue with your studies. But as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore the pounding heart and rapid heating of your cheeks as your mind always managed to drift back into thinking of him.

~~~~

You sat in your chair, back and neck hurting as you craned your head into the book. Your wrist ached as you wrote down each letter without having to look back at the parchment paper made to help you. You managed to memorize each symbol, calculating the letters into place and quickly jotting them down as you got them. You’d make sure you were right when you finished.

The sound of a whistle and the sweet gentle call of your name broke your train of thought, making you shoot your head in its direction. There at the entrance of the room was the young girl, Nikté.

You learned her name when she first saw you reading the mayan book, eyes going wide as she suddenly began to talk frantically. You obviously hadn’t known how to tell her you didn’t know what she was saying, so you resulted in trying to write the word “learning” in her language. She nodded her head immediately after, that smile across her lips as she introduced herself properly at last. From then on, she visited you often, always coming into your room to tell you when food was ready, when the bath water was on its way. Though you mostly communicated by saying one word, it made you feel less alone. As if you had made a friend.

You stretch your arms, holding them above your head as you greet her, “Hola.” Smiles paint both your faces as she makes her way towards you. Her long black hair flowing behind her, the jingle of her jewelry is heard throughout the cavern as she appears in front of you. “Hola.” She replies, politely bowing her head to you.

You didn’t know what time it was, having gotten lost in your studies and skipped the time in which they brought the bath water to you. You stood up from the chair to stand at her height, bowing your own head to her as well as continuing to stretch by bending parts of your body you felt knots in.

Usually, she would sit down after you greeted her. Helping you with word accents and such but today she did not even look at the table.

“P'isib u janal?” You asked, ‘food time?

She shook her head, when she did you noticed the smile on her face. It was wider, happier, lovelier.

“Taal u.” She simply says, reaching her hand towards yours. The cold blue skin greeting your own made you shiver. She intertwined her fingers with yours, giving you a soft squeeze before nodding her head to the direction of the door.

“Taal u.” Come.

~~~

She led you through the halls, still walking hand in hand with you as you suddenly came to a stop before the room you had seen her and the two women weaving your dresses.

“Pa’atik.” She told you, Wait. She let your hand go, going inside of the dimly lit area and leaving you out in the hall.

The faint dripping of water, loud voices, and laughs were the constant noises you heard here. It had become second nature to block them out but you decided to listen to your surroundings as you waited for your friend. The rustle of fabric, the jingle of jewels, and what sounded like a hushed argument came from the place you waited outside of. You fidget with your fingers, wondering what you were even waiting for. The urge to walk back into the room and continue reading consumed your being, and it took everything in your body to stay planted where you were.

A minute or two passed when you were suddenly pulled inside the room. Your heart leaped out your chest and you let out a small scream as you were suddenly sat onto a plush chair in the middle of the room.

Nikté’s eyes greated your own, crinkled by the smile of her face. Her long fingers made their way through your hair, softly beginning to detangle it as you stared at her in confusion. You drifted your gaze as she made her way behind you, trying to take in your surroundings as this was your first time in this room.

You had only ever seen the guards, Nikté, and the two women during your stay here but the sight before you made you realize how you truly didn’t know the strange world you were in.

At least 10 women stood in the crowded space, all handling either jewelry or large amounts of fabric. Shining, glittering, or sheer, the yards of silk flowed off the tables around you and onto the floor like water. They flooded the room, a carpet of colors decorated the floor and your eyes went wide. You’d only ever seen such fabric of high quality in boutiques while shopping for dresses. Where did they even get these from?

You looked at the beautiful patterns and colors before you. White, black, and red colored dresses caught your attention. Each unique and with a personality of their own, all with different skirts and necklines. You wondered who or what they were for, enamored with the intricate details of them all. Patterns of flowers and ocean waves looked to be hand woven into the hems , rising up and up like flames and scattering across the bodice of each.

You couldn’t take your eyes off them, so entranced by their beauty you did not even notice the layering of beads upon your body. Heavy earrings were placed on your ears, pure jade decorated with gold and a matching necklace. The same type of jewelry they would dress you in to present you to Namor. You felt them, but didn’t truly notice until you looked away from those dresses and into a mirror. A large vanity style mirror was hung on the wall before you, you stared at your reflection.

Something about you changed. The last you had seen yourself in the mirror was the first day you were here, you could still feel that small piece in your hands as you flexed them. Back then you were scared, utterly frightened and confused of everything, but now you weren’t. Though still in the dark of several things, like where these beings around you even lived and came from, you seemed happier. The once deep bags of your eyes seemed to have filled out, you carried yourself taller, and the jewelry you once dreaded to see now made your stomach whirl in nervousness.

You were going to see him again. You swore to not think much of it but you kept remembering the book. You didn’t know if he picked out for you personally, but you wondered if he remembered reading about the girl who looked and acted just like you. You wondered if that's why he chose it. He even translated the symbols for you and wrote down their phonetic sounds. You began to think of that night and tending to his wounds. Reminding yourself of those things he said that made your heart skip a beat, stupid stupid man.

The anger you held for him kept you sane, or that’s what you’d like to believe. You didn’t know why you couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your knee bounced up and down, you bit your bottom lip, and you stared blankly at the mirror as you watched Nikté brush and place small pearls in your hair. She hummed softly, the water of her mask swishing with her as she moved her head side to side in the rhythm of the song she sang.

So sweet, so soft. Everything about her reminded you of the sun. The warmth of her voice and smile, the brightness of her eyes and laughs. She reminded you of Adeline. Though your friend on land was rather vulgar and half insane, she could be the nicest person you’d ever known when she wanted to. The sunset on the beach before you came here played through your mind, the way she looked at you with pure joy on her face made your heart ache. You got lost in the memory, going misty eyed before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Terminado.” Finished Nikté says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper it into your ear. You focus your gaze back to the mirror before you.

The front of your hair was covered in pearls appearing to look like a makeshift crown. The tiny beads reminded you of the fresh morning dew that coated the soft petals of flowers on that land you missed, small and delicate. The rest of it was loose and neatly pinned back so it stayed away from your face. All but two strands of hair poked out before your ears to frame your features.

You could almost die at the fact they made you look so pretty to only see him. Gave you such fine accessories and clothes for a man you didn’t even want to care to see. You recalled how he basically admitted he dressed you, the fact he might’ve wanted them to make you look beautiful made the skin on your cheeks burn.

How dare he make you feel this way after keeping you down here? What next, was he going to try to woo you in marriage?

The sudden thought made you burn even hotter, something inside you screamed in either delight or in fear. You couldn’t tell the difference. You quickly shook the thought away, simply looking back at the blue skinned girl behind you and smiling.

~~~~

Anxiety filled your gut as you were led down the now too familiar hall to Namors hut. The seconds felt like minutes as you attempted to work up something to say when you’d see him.

Do you thank him for the book? Pretend as if it meant nothing to you when in fact it meant everything? Do you ask him about the wounds, if they healed? Hell, why did you even care so much about what to say?

So many words, ideas, excuses came to your mind.

You were so captured by them that when you blinked you were suddenly in front of the curtain that separated him from you. There, just behind that flimsy piece of fabric, was the man you tried desperately not to think of day and night.

You felt as if your lungs were going to collapse from the air that had been sucked out. Fear, terror, anxiety, and a thousand more emotions shot through you as you made the decision to finally enter.

He was sitting lazily against the same chair he had sat in during your first meeting. His back was straight but his shoulders were slightly hunched as he held a pen in one hand and a piece of that same parchment paper you had in your room. He looked tense. A stern look rested on his features as he read what was before him.

Gold adorned his neck and shoulders with thick pauldron-like armor that sat atop them. Each layer was extremely detailed, either scaled or sharp edged swirls came together to resemble something that looked to be an ancient painting of a dragon. Hints of lapis lazuli coated the edges as a necklace of gold and shimmering pearls connected the two pieces of armor together, floating across his toned chest. Not a thing out of place. A white and red edged cape hung from him, flowing off and around like those fabrics you'd seen earlier. Smooth and soft like water.

You stared at the figure before you in absolute awe. Again, the only word you could even think of when you saw him was Ethereal.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you continued to take him in. So different from the last time you saw him, that weak and vulnerable air around him was once again powerful and tense. He never exactly told you what he was, you only found out he was a King through the people around you, but he really did look like a God.

You cough, placing your hands behind your back as you call for his attention. You straightened yourself as best as possible, trying to appear as unbothered as you could in the presence of him. Though if he started talking and you heard the voice that rang through your mind and made your knees weak, you didn’t know if it would’ve been possible to keep the act up. .

Namor looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body and face before that smile he always wore when he saw you appears.

He says your name. The thick and gruff accented voice made it sound so perfect, as if it were a piece of art specially made for him and only him to ever say. You braced yourself to feel your knees buckle, but instead the sound soothed you. It caressed a place deep down inside your gut and every tensed nerve inside you calmed. Every bad thought drifted away like smoke in the wind. How strange.

“You know, you never told me your name.” Were his first words to you after that.He lifted from his chair ever so gracefully, the fluid motion of his body drew you in as you stepped further into the room.

“I don’t think you ever asked.”You replied.

“No, I did not.” He chuckles. “It was actually Nikté who told me. It is nice to see you are making friends.” He gently nods his head, greeting you the way he always did.

“Did she now?” You nod your head in return as you stop behind the chair across from his. Your eyes met his, the dark of them swirled with a flurry of emotions. You didn’t look away this time. You didn’t roll your eyes and run away from him like you had before. No, how could you? You made it this far, why turn back now.

“How are your wounds?” You ask him, looking away and taking a seat on the chair in front of you. You grabbed a piece of melón that was gently set in the bowl of fruit on the table, realizing you hadn’t eaten at all this morning.

“Take a look for yourself.”

You look back up and into his direction too eagerly. He begins to pull away the fabric at his sides, the golden skin at his waist peaking out beneath. Smooth, unmarred skin was revealed to you and your eyes went wide.

“What?” You whisper to yourself. “But- that type of injury should have taken weeks to heal. There should be scabs, o-or at least a trace of scars— How did that even heal so quickly!” You question, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at his waist. Impossible.

He simply laughs at you, hands falling away and the cape back into place. “That is actually the reason I called you here today.”

You looked back up at his face, seeing a playful grin set upon his lips. You lifted a brow, “Called me here? What? Like I’m your pet?”

Silence. The grin was wiped clean off his face, replaced with an emotion you could not quite read. You were going to ask if he was okay, worry spread through you as you realized you might’ve offended him. You considered apologizing for what you said, mouthing opening to say the words until he smiled.

His cheeks curved up until the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the smile lines at his cheeks were on full display. He laughed, practically howling as he held his stomach.

You sank down and embarrassment filled your veins. That laugh would ring throughout your mind later, you knew it. It made your stomach do flips and your heart pound at the sound. He continued to shake with laughter as he set himself back down onto the chair before you. Slowly wiping away small tears that fell onto his skin.

“Pet! That’s funny.” He manages to say in between breaths, eyes open fully and set on you now.

“It wasn’t That funny..” You mumble before biting the fruit in your hands. You chewed as slowly as possible, savoring the bittersweet taste of the melón that soaked in your tongue. Its juice coated your fingers, the slippery texture almost had it falling from your hands.

It tasted like summer. Memories of your mother bringing you fruit after playing with friends on hot days rang through your mind. You did your best to focus on those times, doing and thinking of anything to ignore his gaze on you. It reminded you of why you even let yourself be here, your silly goal of somehow convincing him to let you go back to that life you missed. You won’t let your emotions keep you away from that. Or, at least you’ll try.

He snickered, clicking his tongue as the wide smile stayed. He shook his head as he did, the last few laughs falling away. “No, it was funny.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before taking an even bigger bite of fruit. “So, why am I here?” You ask, mouth half full. Juice spilled from the corner of your lips, seeping out and dripping down onto your chin. The orange colored sap slid down down down, onto your collarbones and the necklace you currently wore. You were too busy looking at him spitefully that you hadn’t noticed he was studying the way it that stuck to your skin.

You were about to say something, something snarky and no doubt stupid when you saw him staring at you. But it quickly faded from your mind as you saw his arm reach up. A strong calloused hand made its way towards your face, holding itself in a cupping position. Your body froze as you stared at the person it belonged to. His eyes were intense, set on not your own but rather your lips. His hand reached your face, cupping your chin softly. Much softer than anyone has ever held you. His thumb swiped across the corners of your lip, wiping away the stickiness on your chin with it as well.

“You are here because I have decided I need to show you something. A way of saying thank you for the other night.” Namor replies, his eyes slowly studying your face. You felt flushed as you watched him, your fingers dug deeper into the piece of fruit you held. The soft unbruised melón was now intended by your fingers, a darker orange where you held it than the rest of its untouched counterparts. He continued to hold your face a few seconds more, the warmth of him made you want to nuzzle into it. It took everything to resist.

Chills went down your spine, goosebumps spread across your skin when he gently brushed it away. Your mind was blank, everything you ever thought of was gone, it only focused on the lingering warmth on your cheek. His presence seemed to do that to you. Like if your mind was a compass and he was north.

You stared blankly at him, the unexpected action left you going crazy. Feelings bubbled in your gut, thoughts you didn’t even want to have about him all rushed and played in your mind.

God! What was he going to show you? Surely it wasn’t anything like.. that.. right?? This is only your third real conversation!

You tensed, blinking slowly as you finally gulped down the chewed fruit in your mouth. You forced yourself to breathe, slowly and steady.

His lips began to move, he was saying something. But you didn’t hear. Your ears rang as you slowly tried to pick up the scattered parts of your brain and put them back into place.

“Huh?” You managed to force out when you noticed that he was finished. Not having heard a single thing.

Whatever he said must have been very important because he suddenly stood. The action startled you, jumping slightly at it.

“I said to follow me. I need to show you something.” He says calmly, as if what he had done to do had no effect on him whatsoever. Well, why would it? He definitely knew what he was doing. Bastard.

“Oh okay.” You mumble in response, your voice faint as your eyes follow him. His strong back was turned to you as he walked out the hut, he didn’t even wait to hear your response. He was gone and you were left staring at the gentle swaying of the curtain before you.

You softly cursed him before taking the final bite of fruit in your hands. He really was going to be the death of you.

~~~~

“That’s absolutely hideous.” You say, voice painted in disgust.

A big metal suit stood before you. It was made of chunky metal, covered in wires and lamps and a large oxygen tank. Not only that but it was quite wide. No doubt that it had many layers residing inside of it, most likely designed to protect the person who wore it. It was rounded at the edges with a thick type of plexiglass helmet resting upon its top. It reminded you of a high tech space suit, the white paint of it like those you’d seen in movies.

“Ah, so now is when you care about something being attractive.” Namor says. You can’t see him but you could tell he had a shit eating grin on his face. You shook your head before turning to look at him. You glared, showing no amusement at his response.

You both stood outside his hut, near the body of water that surrounded the rocks of the cave. The glowing pools made the suit look blue, reflecting the light that showed upon it. You both were covered in the royal colors as well, the soft glow lit his eyes in a way that looked like they were swimming with stars. Though the shadows on his face made him look more menacing, his sculpted sharp features were more intense. The complete opposite to the softness of his eyes.

“What’s it even for?” You ask, tilting your head back to the strange thing before you. You tried to examine it even farther, attempting to figure out its intended use but instead more questions popped up inside your mind.

Where did it come from? Who made it? Why was it here? Where did they even keep it?

You placed a hand on the cold metal, smooth and slick. The suit looked new, as if no one had even dared touch it before you did.

“Deep sea exploration.” The male behind you says.

“Deep sea- what?” Your eyes went wide as you whipped your head to him. He chuckles, gently making his way towards you and the suit.

“I need you to get in it. Only if you want to see what I have to show you.” He sounded so calm, as if that request wasn’t something incredibly bizarre. You stared at him in disbelief. Your brows furrowed and you wanted to call him crazy.

“What would you have to show me that requires a deep sea exploration suit anyways?” You ask instead, emphasizing the words he used.

He gave you a sly look, mischief swirled in his eyes and smiled before looking away from you. “It’s not something I can really say, only show.”

You roll your eyes at him, sighing before backing up to take in the suit's entirety once more. You grimaced as you felt a tinge of fear inside you, it sent a chill down your back. You can’t imagine where he wants to take you in that. But, if his people lived in water, if they thrived there then, maybe… maybe you could trust him with this. He saved you once, let you heal him besides his protests, gave you a book you couldn’t be more grateful for. You had few reasons to trust him, but something told you they were a part of something grander than you knew.

‘Trust him..’ That call inside you roared at you.

If anything were to go wrong, he’d be there.

He’d be there, the words rang through your mind. They put you at ease, and you grabbed a hold onto that.

“I mean I guess but..” You begin. Even though calm soothed your mind, just agreeing to get in the suit made your bones cry out. Fear and excitement whirled inside of you, it made you want to crawl out of your skin and run from the leering unknown of what he was to show you.

You can trust him..’ You repeat to yourself, to your crying nerves as you turn to look at him.

“How am I going to get in?”

~~~~

The suit was not as heavy as you thought. Though hard to navigate in, the small light that it illuminated gave you a tiny sense of security in the dark of the ocean.

Namor helped you in, giving you a small lift as you climbed inside. Though he first insisted on flying you up, grabbing your waist before you began to protest. You trashed and pounded at his chest, demanding that he let you go, he merely laughed before bending his knee for you to step on.

You asked what he was going to wear, if you really were going to such a place where something of this sort was required surely he needed one too. He simply said “You’ll see.”

That was when you learned he could breathe underwater. You stared in shock as he led your metal arm through underwater caves, smiling and talking as if the fact he could do so was absolutely nothing.

You tried not to think about it, that night he saved you, but began to think you should have. You never acknowledged how he did it, the fact he simply had was enough for you. Though this would never have crossed your mind. You supposed it made sense, he was a King— a God—, to his people who could do the same. But even then it still puzzled you, they had blue skin and he did not. They had gills, he did not. His ears were pointed, theirs weren’t. He even had wings on his feet, hell. But perhaps it was seeing him in his natural habitat that surprised you. You’d only ever seen his people, never him.

There may have been a millisecond where you thought you understood him though, what he was. But in fact, you knew nothing even when you felt as if you knew everything. And maybe you did, maybe you just needed reassurance.Maybe you just needed him to say the words himself, to tell you. To soothe you. Because the way he spoke, the way words slid off his tongue and into your soul, made you feel as if a piece inside of you was missing. And his presence was the place they resided, so whenever you were near you felt whole. You felt as if you were home, as if you could trust him. Despite every nerve in your body and thought in your mind, the piece that called you to him was stronger than any force.

Even when the cold and incredible dark of the water surrounded you, even as it still sent a disgusting wave of fear over you, looking at him made all those feelings wash away. You did nothing but watch him lead you down into the depths the entire time. You watched him swim so gracefully it put the gentle swaying of the seaweed to shame.

You didn’t know how long the journey to your destination was, you didn’t even know where you were going. Only following Namor’s lead, you waited and waited to come to a stop. To see something that would indicate something was near.

You were about to ask, where he was leading you, how far and deep in the ocean were you going. That was until the gentle glow of blue lights illuminated him and your view. You watched his smile light up.

He swam faster, leaving you trailing behind as he seemed to perch atop something that looked like a building. You were going to cry out, tell him to come back but the water seemed to push you into his direction. You were beginning to drift away, the control of the suit slipping from you as fear took over once again. But he caught you, gently grabbing your hand before turning you around to see what he had been admiring.

What you saw then made everything come into place. You were so thankful for those fragments of culture that I saw in the cave, believing that was all he had to hide. But this… you now finally understood why he’s kept you there. If you even muttered a word about the cave, what you’d seen, someone might have come looking. Might have found this, you could never do that to them. No this… this was something pure, untouched and different from the world you knew. You would have given every life you could live if it meant to have seen this only once.

He called your name, but you couldn’t look away. A smile began to make its way onto your face, pure utter joy and wonder exploded inside your chest. It filled you, the cold around you seemed to fade and every worry was gone.

“Welcome to Talokan”

It was a city, an underwater city. Ancient mesoamerican architecture sprouted from every inch of the rocky walls and earth, carved carefully and beautifully. They were everywhere, on the seafloor and above. Round, squared, or sharp edged, those buildings covered every inch before you. Large natural plants decorated the surface of them, glowing in a natural blue light that seemed to come from their veins. Weeds swayed with the motions of the water, dancing to the harmonies of life around it. Fish and jellyfish carried that same blue glow as the plants. They floated like beautiful balls of light around you.

A grand pyramid was in the middle of it all, dyed red with hints of green. It loomed and towered over the city. But instead of being separated from everything else, it welcomed the surroundings. United rather than apart, it seemed to compliment the buildings around it rather than the other way around. It spread out, the structures bordering it were parts of it. You couldn’t tell where it ended and the rest started.

That was not the centerpiece though. No, how could it be?

It was the giant, beautiful ball of glowing light.

Huge and brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, it looked like the sun. Its light bounced off every surface, illuminating what you saw now. The glow filled your soul, your heart. That call you always felt when looking towards the ocean, it thrived there.

You hadn’t noticed the whales until one passed over you. A giant, beautiful creature whose song echoed around the walls of the city. So grand, so amazing. You’d never seen one so close.

Though there was something strange about it, you looked closely thinking that the spots scattered across their skin were abnormally large barnacles, but how wrong you were.

It was people. People who rode and grasped the back of those large magnificent creatures. People who could breathe underwater and had gills as well.

You hadn’t exactly caught a good glimpse of what they looked like in water, only having seen them as blurs in the shallow pools of the cave. But you saw now. They looked like any other person on land. Tan, pale, or dark skinned, they looked so human.

Maybe they once were, maybe their ancestors felt the gentle kiss of the sun on the land above. The feel of air filling their lungs and the crisp scent of spring flowers. You wondered what happened for them to end up here.

You once yearned for the water, for what resided in the depths of the unknown expanse. Being here made you think this was it. That this was the place that called and called you every time you set foot on the shore. Was this truly it?

You began to think the pressure of the water was getting to you, that the suit would give in and you’d suddenly wake up in that small hammock of your room. But no, this was real. You grasped the hand that held yours, grounding yourself as you felt like you were floating in absolute bliss.

He called your name again, so smooth and gentle even in the ripples of sound underwater. You responded this time, having to look away before your heart exploded out of your chest.

“Would you like to see more?”

“Yes.” You replied quickly and breathlessly, nodding your head. Tears fell on your cheeks, ones you didn’t even know had formed in the first place.

Namor saw them and gripped your hand tighter. The gentleness of his eyes spread to his face, a soft genuine smile appeared. Real. No sign or hint of wit or mischief. That tense look he constantly wore was gone, vanished like it had the night he was wounded. But it wasn’t vulnerability that took over, it was something you couldn’t quite place.

A longing inside you grew as you tried to figure it out. It consumed your soul and being as you looked at him. Then it clicked.

Fondness, that was it.

You’d been here no longer than a minute but you knew what you were to see would change every emotion you had towards him. Every sliver of stubbornness and anger melted away with that look he gave, gone never to return. It is so easy for humans to surrender to their emotions, so easily influenced by other memories. At least you can say you tried.

You looked back to the world before you, taking a small leap in the water. Soon after he led you further by the hand, beginning his swim once more.

~~~

There was no excuse you could make up to go back to the life you knew before this. Not a single thought or idea could compare to what he just showed you. Why would you even want to leave after experiencing that? Namor showed you the secrets of his world. How unfair and ungrateful would you have to be to deny what he offered you. It was all you wanted and more, a life in the ocean. To be with the water forever.

You believe that if he had shown you Talokan when you first arrived, if he had been honest about what he wants to protect instead of just saying you need to stay with him, you would have said yes without a second thought.

Your blood sang along with the song of the people you heard down there. That ancient voice that kept you awake for years and years came from Talokan. That was it’s home, you knew this now.

You recalled the city and its heart. That giant ball of light made of vibranium, he had explained to you.

“It brought the sun to my people.”

His people. People who lived and thrived in that ancient and forgotten world. You saw children and adults go about their day. All laughing, smiling, trading goods, or playing sports. It was no different than the land above, they were just like any other society. They had their love, lives, people to protect.

You marveled at it even now, seeing beings with gills and swimming skills that would put those who trained their whole lives to shame.

They greeted you and Namor like old friends, wide grins on each of their faces. They weren’t afraid of you, no. They went up to you, bowing and placing their left wrist upon their right, a salute of some sorts to their king before coming and gently touching your suit. They examined you as you did them, not a hint of malice or disgust in their faces. But rather joy and wonder, you tried to listen to what they told you. Syllables and words you didn't know or understand crowded your ears as when all began to talk at once. You tried your best to keep up, but you only understood the few words Nikté had said to you.

Regardless, they all looked so happy. So free.

In a world where all the rules from that up above never existed you begin to fantasize living there.

As yourself, as the person you always wanted to be. Unbound from the shackles of expectations from family and friends. All that you would get judged for around from those on the surface, your gut told you that they never would down in the ocean below.

But, you had family and friends like they did. You had people who missed you, who worried and cared. What would happen if one of those smiling beings you saw had been in the same situation as you? You’d want them to come back home. Why would you keep them away from everything they’ve known?

It had been a few minutes since you returned to the cave with Namor. You sat at the edge of the rocky floor, feet dipped into the water below. He sat next to you, covered in the cape he had previously worn now acting as a towel.

No words had been exchanged since he had told you it was time to come back. Your mind was still in that city, so was your heart. You kept your eyes closed, burning everything you had seen into your mind. Like the amber which once encased the bones of the past, like the way these people upheld and cherished their undiscovered lives.

You kicked your legs back and forth, the splish splash of the water filling the silence of the cave. You hummed to yourself, that same song Nikté sang earlier.

“I know that melody.” Namor suddenly spoke, voice no louder than a whisper. You turn your head to him, only to see he was already looking at you. He was so close, his shoulders nearly touching your own. His hand almost overlapped your own as well, his pinky looked as if it was reaching for your own.

You give him a smile, “Nikté said it was called K’iino’. That means sun right? Was- Is it about the vibranium sun?” You ask.

He nods, a smile grows on his own face at your words. You nod in return. Silence spread throughout the cave again.

You tensed, body stiff from containing all the questions building inside you. You did your best to not say anything, not wanting to pry at him and his reasoning. But you needed to hear him talk, to feel that warmth his voice brought throughout your body. You needed to know, to know why he showed you such a secret. He told you himself, he could not risk his people being compromised.

“Why did you show me Talokan? I don’t— I would have been fine in the cave you didn’t need to show me. I’m just a human from land. I highly doubt I have the right to be shown such a thing-“ The words you had been holding in finally burst, flowing freely before he cut you off.

“Why do you think I gave you the book?” He says.

You quieted. Why did he give you the book?

You blinked at him, mouth in an O shape as you considered the question. You’ve thought about it of course, but never came to a conclusion. Your mind would mostly drift off when thinking about him, about the girl in the book. You never tried to understand exactly why he gave it to you. You assumed it was for you to simply learn the language, obviously that was not just it.

He saw you pause, his brows furrowed and a troubled look flashed upon his face. He shook his head immediately after, brushing away whatever he had been thinking of. Namor finally looked back into your eyes, a flame burning bright in them as he stared intently.

“You had the right to know. I don’t want you to think that I am keeping you here as a prisoner. I don’t want you to feel like one. You are allowed to do what you like, what you please. I gave you the book so…” He paused, trying to find the right words to say. “If you read the whole thing, I had a feeling you would be able to understand why I am keeping you here. If I showed you Talokan, you’d understand even better. I needed you to see what I have to protect, what I am protecting. And that I could protect you too.”

A wave of emotions was sent over you as he spoke those last few words.

Protect you too.

But what was he protecting you from? You weren’t Talokanil, you had been exposed to the world above. You’d lived in it, you came from it. You were born from the dirt and ash unlike those he called his people. You thought of your own people actually.

How similar the lives of both civilizations live. How a mother or father of someone might go so far as to protect their children. Talokan was his, he was their King. Their God. But you had a mother of your own too, a father. Siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles who you know would worry for you as much as he would for a single one of them.

“What would you do if one of your own people got stolen? If the person who held them locked them away where you have no chance of finding them. what would you do?” You ask.

“I’d tear the world apart to find them.”

“And what is to say my family won’t do the same for me?”

He froze, the burning in his eyes stopped. A cold seized over him as he looked stunned. For just a split second, sadness flashed against those brown orbs and you didn't look away.

He said your name, softly and gently. It almost broke your heart to hear him say it. “You want to leave? After I showed you-“

You cut him off, “No! Never, I could not do that to you. To Nikté, to all those people down there. I would never.” You explain. “I just..I simply ask for a week on the surface every month. On land, I have no doubt people are looking for me. I just— I need to let them know I am safe. That I am cared for. I will not tell them anything about you or what I know. I just don’t want them to think I ran away forever.”

Namor tenses and he backs away from you. The close proximity you once shared now distanced. He sighs heavily, throwing his head back. He’s thinking, the lids of his eyes twitching as he knits his brows.

You bite your lip, fidgeting with your fingers as you anxiously wait for his response. The silence between you two is drawn out, the sound of your mingled breathing filling your ears. You do nothing but look at him, study him.

His jaw is clenched, tight and firm. It was so sharp and pointed. Perfectly complimenting his ears. He really was beautiful.

You considered telling him to forget your offer, that you’d be fine without it and quickly storm back to your room. Until he lifted his head, rolling it around his shoulders as a faint crack came from the tensed area.

He sighs again,”One day.”

“What?”

“One day, every month.”

You stare at him again, seems to be the only thing you can do around him. It took a few seconds for the words to truly process into your mind.

“Five days.” You respond, one day was absolutely nothing.

“One.”

“Four!”

He gave you a long look. Something told you he didn’t want to fight. And neither did you. You huff, glaring at him and slightly pouting.

“Three. Three days.” Namor says, voice gruff and somewhat defeated.

Three days. Three was good, right? Longer than one, shorter than a week. It was enough time for a weekend, a weekend with your family every month. Enough time to feel the real warmth and heat of the sun upon your skin. Enough time to feel the grass and dirt to last you until the next month.

“Fine.” You agree. You open your arms to stretch your own tense muscles. You could still feel the weight of the suit on your shoulders, the way it moved in the water.

A yawn escaped you, eyes suddenly growing heavy as you turn back to Namor. He never stopped looking away from you, that soft look from before was there. So gentle, so sweet.

He looked so happy in his city, with everyone. Though you cannot say you truly know him, a piece inside of you did. And it scared you, just how at ease he made he feel. You thought of today, of what he had shown you and how he looked at you. You could still feel his hand on your cheek. Though only the ghost of it, it was still there. Has it always been there?

“You’re tired.” He says, his voice like a lullaby. Sleep called you, he was its companion. That warmth and comfort he brought you doubled now in your drowsy state.

“Mhmm.” You hum in agreement, nodding as well. Your eyes looked down, upon the expanse of him. His tanned skin, the muscles of his body. Giddy feelings swelled inside you, heat grew in your cheeks as they drifted to his left abdomen.

No wound. No scars.You had forgotten about that, when it was the entire reason he even showed you his home.

“You never told me how you healed so quickly..” You begin, eyes looking back up to him. But the second you did, Namor had begun to move.

He swiftly stood up, leaving you staring at his knees. More strong muscles in your line of vision. You could drool.

“That.. Is a story for another time. You must sleep.” He tells you, reaching his hand out to you.

The golden cuffs on his wrist shone in the soft cave light. Glinting and glimmering, you grabbed it. His rough skin welcomed yours, and it almost burned to touch him.

He pulled, a low grunt leaving your lips as you hauled your tired self up. It still felt like you were in the water., arms and knees growing weak at the sudden weight of gravity. You went at the sudden change of position, steadying yourself by squeezing his hand. He squeezed back.

The action had you burning even hotter, rushing to look back into his eyes. Something, anything to ground yourself. To let you know this was real.

And it was. That look in his eyes didn't change, it didn’t waver not one bit. It made warmth spread across your chest. You wanted to hold onto it a bit longer, to never let go of the hand that held yours. But he did.

His hand left yours, leaving a brush of emptiness against it. You almost felt sad, until you saw it come into your line of vision.

He cupped your face as he had earlier. Your body came back to life at it, every ounce of sleep left as he pressed against you.

You could melt in his hands. Your heart pounded in your ears at the flame of his touch. You wanted to speak, to say something. Anything to not let the moment pass and keep it going. You could stay here forever.

But nothing came out, not even a whisper or gasp left you as you opened your mouth to him. You just stared as you had before.

“Rest.” He tells you. “We will talk tomorrow.”

No. You wanted to say.

Now, I want to talk now. I don’t want to leave , not right now.

But sleep washed over you as he pulled his hand away. You clung onto the remanentes of warmth on your cheek. Your tired to fight the sleep that overtook you, but it was too much. You eyes were closing, you couldn’t even think straight.

So you simply nodded, bowing slightly before sluggishly heading back to your room.

~~~

Nikté pulled each pearl from your hair, combing her long fingers carefully through every strand. She massaged your scalp as you kept your eyes closed. She continued humming her song, you almost fell asleep right there.

She kept going, the melody of her voice slowly send you drifting off in the chair of your room. The bed was so close, you wanted to tell her to leave you. To drift off into the world you saw each time you closed your eyes. But you don’t think you would’ve even have enough strength to lift yourself up. To wrap yourself in the blankets waiting for you.

You just knew you needed to go back, to Talokan and to him. Only in your dreams will you find them, and that was enough for you at that moment.

You couldn’t wait any longer, finally giving into the darkness. Knowing you’d be happy to greet what awaited you, you finally slipped into the unknown. Hoping to dream about the sea. The ocean.

El mar.

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Thank you for reading <\3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!!

A/n: also im like extremely sorry if the ending isn’t the best i’ve been busy with school and family 😭😭 but ill be on break soon which will give me time to come back and fix this (hopefully!!)

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 2

Find the series masterlist

Remember last chapter I warned you reader is bisexual? Yeah. Also due to her work, reader has multiple nicknames, and we see another nickname in this chapter.

This chapter may feel a little slower but we’re building up to good stuff, I promise! 

Once again, speaking in italics is speaking in another language. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned sexual activity, mentioned events from CoD:MW, spy shit. 

Word count: 1.8k

After your business in Turkey was concluded, you hopped on a series of planes to Mexico to go visit another old friend. This one very rarely gave you any kind of intel, but she was fun. So it was worth the trip.

Besides, you were craving good Mexican food. 

She even sent a few of her men to pick you up. One took your bags, another held the door open for you into the SUV. 

The royal treatment.

The drive was long and quiet. You weren’t overly interested in talking to the underlings, and she had likely warned them to silence anyway. That was one of the reasons you so enjoyed her company. She was smart. 

The car stopped, and you waited while one of the men hopped out and got your door for you. “This way,” he murmured in English. Your lips twitched but you followed him sedately. 

This time, she’d brought you to a very nice home. Not modest. Three stories, with a good-sized car garage. 

This one was new, and idly you wondered when she’d acquired this. 

“It took you long enough,” she called in Spanish, walking down the stairs as you entered the house. 

“You didn’t invite me for too long,” you shot back, smiling. As always, she was a vision, even dressed simply in a dark top and pants. “Valeria.”

“Marigold.” Valeria stepped down onto the entryway floor, walking up to you. “You changed your hair.”

You smiled. “Every so often,” you agreed. “Can’t let people get too used to one style.”

She chuckled, lifting one hand to trace one finger over the apple of your cheek. “When are you going to come work for me, hm? We both know I can make it worth your while.” 

“Not today, Valeria.” This was an old game between the two of you, as old as her rise to power. You may have helped her along some. For the right price. Information helped win wars, after all. 

She caught your chin between her thumb and forefinger, holding you steady, searching your gaze. Then she nodded once. “Come. Lunch is ready for us.” 

You followed her, unashamedly looking around. “This is a nice place,” you hummed. 

“I’m glad you like it, since you’ll be staying here.” She looked over her shoulder at you, amused. “For however long you want.”

“You are a temptress.” 

She led you to a table outside, already set for the two of you. This part was easy - you both enjoyed eating and flirting, with nothing of real consequence being said. She always tried to pry just a little more out of you, and you always diverted and redirected. This had been the game for as long as you’d known her. 

“I do have work for you, if you’re interested.” Her gaze was heavy-lidded, sweeping over you slowly, warm and familiar.

“Mm?” You leaned back in your chair, folding your hands loosely over your tummy. 

“I need to know what the Americans are up to.” 

You scoffed a derisive laugh. “The Americans don’t know what the Americans are up to,” you grumbled, waving one hand. “I’ll need something more specific to get you any good intel.” 

She leaned forward, hands on the table, chin tipped to hold your gaze. “I need to know how distracted they are.” 

You mulled that request over slowly, carefully. You knew her business. She’d known you long enough to give you free reign. Much like Laswell, Valeria knew you gave her solid intel. “Is there a specific department?” you asked cautiously. “Or a specific distraction?” 

“I don’t want them to have so much time they begin sniffing around my operations.” 

And that, well, that made sense. Didn’t necessarily make things easy, but it made sense. “I’ll need a few days.” 

“Standard rules?”

“Of course.” 

Valeria smiled. “Well then. Since you’ll be here for a few days…” She stood and took your hand, tugging gently until you stood as well. “I should show you to your room.” Her voice dipped, low and sultry. 

“You should,” you agreed, lips curving in an inviting smile. 

Valeria tugged your hand, leading you away from the table. 

This was one reason why you kept coming back. She just knew how to treat you right. 

The fact that she could deliver mind-numbing orgasms was a definite plus, too. 

Later, after Valeria left to do some business, you set up your computer. You’d promised to get her some information, after all, and that didn’t just drop into your lap.

Not without some prompting, anyway. 

Sources appropriately prompted, you turned instead to the news. It was always good to keep up to date on what was happening - kept you from accidentally wandering into too much trouble. It also gave you time to decide where you wanted to go next, after you got Valeria her information. 

The whole world was open to you, after all. 

Your research paused for dinner, and then you went right back to it. It had been a while since you’d been to Greenland, and you wouldn’t mind a quieter couple weeks. Then again, Africa had many choices and potential for quiet as well… Decisions, decisions. 

You blinked at your phone when it started ringing. Not that many people had your number. 

“Yes?” 

“Ace.” Laswell sounded stressed. Oh this could not be good. “I need a favor.”

“I don’t do favors,” was your immediate response. Because you didn’t. Mostly. 

But Laswell pulled out the big guns. She pulled out your birth name, the one you’d left behind years ago, the one she’d scrubbed from every system. 

You went rigid, swallowing hard. “Katie Kate.” 

“I need a favor,” she repeated, softer, gentler. 

You closed your eyes. Fuck. Fuck! “What do you need?”

“I need you to find someone for me. Cartel.”

“You know I don’t do names.”

“I don’t need a name, I need a location.” She paused and then pulled out her final trump card. “He’s working with Gray.” 

You stopped. For a few moments, the world faded to nothing but a pair of gray eyes. Then you swallowed hard. “Should have led with that,” you muttered, hunching your shoulders. “Who am I finding?” 

“Carlos Torres.”

“Fine. Am I calling you back with this?”

“No. I’ll have someone meet you.”

“No, not here. I’m not planning to be anywhere helpful to you for at least a week.” 

Laswell sighed, short and sharp. “Fine. I’ll provide you with a number for a burner phone, but you won’t get me, so behave yourself.”

“One of these days, you’re going to rack up debt, and I’m going to call it in.” 

“Not today.” Laswell hung up. 

You let your phone drop to the bed, heart pounding. Twisting, you looked out the window, suddenly feeling exposed and uncertain. Valeria ran a tight ship. She wouldn’t allow unauthorized people here. Not here. It was just your paranoia, you just needed to work it out of your system. 

A nice hot shower made you feel more settled in your skin. And screaming into your pillows helped. 

Some.

By morning, you were back under control, skipping down the steps to join Valeria for breakfast. You had no idea when she’d gotten back, but she was as immaculately put together as ever, and even greeted you with a kiss to the cheek. 

“Sleep well?” Her gaze lingered on your face. 

“Oh yes, the bed is quite comfortable.” You smiled, helping yourself to food at her wave. “You really are trying to tempt me into a singular living.” Your grin showed teeth, but it was all in good fun. 

“You already know that.” Her smile was a dangerous, glittering thing, a velvet-wrapped dagger. “How long will you be staying?” She switched to Spanish, pouring a drink for you. 

You shrugged. “Likely a few more days, at least until I hear back,” you answered in kind. 

She nodded once, looking thoughtful. “Do you need to be by your computer all day?”

You blinked, surprised. “No, I’m not expecting anything urgent today. Why?”

“I want to take you riding, see more of the area.”

You waggled your eyebrows playfully. “Riding, huh?” You switched back to English to load more suggestiveness into your tone.

She swatted your arm, light, playful. A teasing reprimand, but still a reprimand. “Well, if you’d prefer to be a brat about it…”

You held your hands up. “I apologize, you know I like to tease. I would love to go with you.” 

Her smile had the distinct flavor of a woman who was used to getting her way, and was not surprised when she got it yet again. “After breakfast, then.”  

Valeria kept you out all day, showing you around. Showing you off, subtly but definitively. Though she rarely introduced you, no fewer than a dozen of her men saw you with her. 

You were a little irked by her gall. A little turned on, too, if you were honest with yourself. 

But you still had mixed feelings when you saw that your people had gotten back to you with the information on the Americans. Laswell’s information hadn’t come through yet - if you didn’t hear back in the morning, you’d have to start leaning on people. 

Valeria thanked you for the information with a wire transfer and another orgasm. She also somehow got you to promise to stick around for another two days. 

You still weren’t sure how she’d gotten you to agree to that. 

It took another day before you got a location on Carlos Torres. You waited until Valeria was out of the house again attending to business before you called the number Laswell had sent you. 

“You have the information?” 

You smiled slowly. “Well, hello again, Captain,” you purred. “What a pleasant surprise!”

He sighed, short and sharp, on the other end. “Do you have the information or not?” 

“I do.” You pouted, just a little. “You sure know how to ruin a girl’s fun, Captain.”

The silence on the other end was pointed. Very pointed. 

So you gave him the intel, including last known coordinates. 

Captain grunted once. Apparently that counted as acknowledgement.

“And, Captain? You should hurry. He won’t stay there long.” You hung up without giving him a chance to reply. Sighing, you rubbed a hand over your face. 

Sometimes you wondered if you were getting too comfortable. And sometimes you just wondered about your sanity.

[ch0wen]

༝ ˚ ༝ My Lady is the Sea ｡ ˚ ༝ - Prince Eric x Fem!Reader | NSFW

𖠳 ᐝ warnings: brief smut, 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex & cursing

Sea salt tickles your nostrils as you step out onto the wooden dock. Nose twitching like a bunny to rid the salty air from your sensitive nerves. You glide forward only a few feet, and your left shin knocks into a wooden pole. A barricade lined the perimeter of the landing. Fencing that stops you from falling into the unknown below. An oil lantern illuminates a portion of the dock and the gradually darkening surface of the deep. The expansive waters lurk just beyond the fading arc of light. Your body gently sways with the sounds of the waves stirring.

Instinctively, you flex your hold on a roped handle. A heavy, disgusting mixture of beer and spit sloshes in the bucket that you have been entrusted to dump out. Polluting the ocean, you think. An unfortunately common attribute of living in a coastal town. It's second nature to dump and forget. Water appears to be along every horizon you look to. It surrounds you, yet it's ever-moving. Continuous. Traveling away.

How you wish you could be out there now. Just like your father had moons ago. Oh, the precious things he gifted you with when he returned to the marina! The carefully selected treasures. He always seemed to know which new object would earn an excited squeal from you because of its sparkles or funky shape. Whispers at bedtime of now fictitious-sounding tales on how he acquired them. To you, his trips were like storybooks. Too embarrassing to admit, you used to go to sleep late into your teens with visions of exploration dancing in your head. Dreaming of the uncharted waters and cloudy faces of the friends you'd make. He'd promise to you, that you would soon be old enough to explore the world with him.

But you couldn't truly treasure the last retelling of his adventures because no one foresaw he would leave it on a cliffhanger. He never came back. Your mother forbade you from speaking of his expeditions as time passed. "Don't go towards the beyond." "This is your home." "You're safe here." she chided. Here, on land. The hope soon ended with the stories. You grew accustomed to the familiar. You were raised here. It's all you have known. Is it worth it to leave at this point?

However, there are instances when you fall back into childlike wonder. In the quiet lulls, similar to the brink of falling asleep, you can't help but contemplate what else the waters hold past their horizons.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

A faint, muffled tune begins inside and wafts out into the silence. The merry-sounding song envelops you. You blink out of the reverie to adjust your vision in the darkness.

You can hear the pub's piano, in desperate need of a tuning, as you push open the door. A gaggle of men are singing a sea shanty in the dining space. They look disheveled but have dancing smiles. You can't help grinning as you watch these men celebrate life.

“Just docked," Gwen, your co-worker, calls from over her shoulder. She fills up two cups and then slides them over the bar top towards one of the waiting men. He slaps a few coins down and moves back to the crowd, like rejoining a school of fish.

Gwen wipes up the liquid he left, “I heard one of them holler that they came in from the Carribean.”

“I feel like that's only the third ship from around there this season."

"How do you manage to even keep track? There have to have been hundreds of vessels that have passed through here."

You blushingly shrug at her knowing smirk. Teasingly, her fingers reach out to flick at your slightly tarnished necklace. A chain made from Spanish silver with a locket bearing some type of ruby gem.

Leonardo was the one who had graced you with this last year. He was a buccaneer. He and his crew docked in town for a fortnight. He was charming and proud. In the tavern, he was always drunkenly boasting about the treasures he had found. The people he'd fought. The Lords he'd impressed. The people he'd fucked. He was so fun.

When your birthday happened around the time he was in town, he came stumbling into the bar with this necklace. He said it was nothing and that he had dozens of more valuable findings in a chest on board his ship. But he never showed you to prove that to be true. However, you did thank him ever so graciously that night.

He sailed out a day later. No harbor was his home. You're used to this life working as a bartender in a popular trading port. You see hundreds of thousands of faces. All of these handsome men ranged from sailors to buccaneers. They all share with you the amazing stories of their lives. They fascinated you. Inspired you. Seduced you. - You can't help but be attracted to the rugged, good-looking, and ambitious type.

A man unexpectedly calls out from the crowd towards the pair of you. His voice grabs your attention like a Siren's song. There were too many bodies to place where it was coming from in the mass of people, but you swear you briefly saw a hand in the air on the left side of the room.

“My lovely bar maidens, a round of your finest ale, please, yeah?"

“Right away, sir,” you nod curtly while pivoting obediently to fill the dregs.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

The rosy-cheeked, rowdy men cheer even louder as you approach with their fifth round of booze. Their attention has been won, not by the promise of refreshments, but by the beer sloshing over the rims and onto the pair of bouncing breasts carrying it all.

Low whistles scatter around the table at your cleavage while you lean over to set down the ale. Mucky hands grabbing for the foaming tankards. You catch a handsome man staring through the limbs. He gives you a dimpled smirk. His eyes betray him as they glimpse down to what you can assume is your chest. Well, he's no better than any man.

Your retreating form hears the same voice from before exclaim, “Here is to another voyage through uncharted waters! I am grateful for all your hard work, boys. And thanks to Grimsby for laying off the scolding because we're three days past schedule."

You're back at the bar. A crewmate, with a red kerchief pushing back his straw-yellow hair, heaves an overfilled mug in the air toward the handsome man,

"And a special thanks to our Captain, whose mother would keel over from learning the adventures her dear boy has taken us on. Prince Eric!"

"Prince Eric," they unanimously cheer!

Together, as they collide their drinks, fat drops of the golden liquid splash onto Prince Eric's tunic and wet his chest. The strings of his shirt are untied. Making the neck loosely hang open with his chest hair on full display. Your eyes are drawn to it. Tracing the outline of his defined pecs through the thin fabric. You're no better than a man. Worst yet, he notices you staring. His stare seems to darken, and he motions his mug towards you as a 'cheers' gesture before returning focus to his companions.

Clearing your throat and dirty mind, you turn back to tend to one of your regulars, a local fisherman slumped over on a stool at the end of the bar.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Eric strides over as you scrub up the beer rings on the bar, left by the patrons who previously occupied the empty stools. He fluidly pulls one out to sit and drums his fingers along the wood. Blue eyes staring you down for a third time tonight,

"Can I get you anything?”

“I think I should take a breather. My crew is too enthusiastic to get me drunk.”

“Sounds like you're having a bad night." He threw back his head and let out a loud laugh. Admittedly, it was too big of a reaction to that poor joke attempt. You wring out your rag into a nearby bucket to hide your smile.

You wait for a beat before sparing him another glimpse. He’s staring at your chest again. You feel the exposed skin warm under his look. You’re tempted to peek down to see how much this corset is causing you to spill out.

“Did you get it locally?

“Sorry?”

"The necklace," he half-gestures towards you.

You clasp at the pendant, "Oh, this."

He nods with his eyes fixed on your chest a moment longer before moving up to your face. His cheeks are flushed and eyes hooded, assumedly, from the pints he and his crew have slung back. You're moving toward him, holding out the chain to let him get a closer look.

“I think it’s from the Spanish Islands. A pirate passing through last season gave it to me.”

His large hand reaches out to replace yours. “It’s beautiful. I have an eye for treasures like this.”

He's so close like this. You watch his eyes flick around the locket, his fingers tracing over the gems, and the way his dark curls fall as he tilts his head to examine.

“Silly me to think anything else. Here I thought you were just checking out my chest.”

“Well, you do have wonderful tits," he absentmindedly states. He leaves you gaping as he pulls back.

"Thank you for letting me have a look. I'd be rather fond of that if I were you. That's a special gift."

"Y-yeah, but given to me by a not-so-special guy," you shrug.

You sense an awkward pause, but he watches you with a soft, dimpled smile. You motion towards the window out to the harbor, “Which one is yours?”

“The biggest one. Naturally.”

You stifle your giggle and notice a boat at the end of the port. Beautiful and massive.

“Wow, you weren't kidding. What's it like up there?"

"On the boat? You work in a marina. Have you ever been on one?”

“Oddly, no.”

He didn't hide his shock.

“I'm sorry. Are you telling me that summer lover could give you a necklace but decided not to show you his deck?”

“Something like that," you lean onto the bar, "How unfortunate for me, right?"

His hand strikes the top of the bar as he rises from the stool, causing you to flinch.

“Well, that simply just won't do! Do you want to come see mine?"

The lamplight and mischievousness dance in his eyes, "I can give you the grand tour.”

“Will you let me spin the wheel?”

"Only the most skilled helmsmen are allowed to touch," he pouts, then that damned smile graces his lips again, "but I think I may be able to bend the rules for you."

“I’m going on break,” you call to Gwen before following the handsome voyager outside.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

"And, this would be the Captain's quarters."

"Oh, Captain Eric?"

He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, "I don't particularly like going by titles. Makes me feel like I'm trying to say I'm more important than others. I swear by my men. We venture out for fun, but I'd be stuck at port without them."

"That is a very noble thing to say, Prince Eric."

"Come off it," he laughs while moving over to a table against one of the walls. Eric picks up what appears to be a rock. He turns the object in his hands before showing you.

"Fossilized sea stone. Found it off the coast of my home island."

He places the textured stone in your open palms. The unexpected weight of it doubles you over, but Eric catches you. His hand lingers on your hip.

He proceeds to tell you about the rest of his findings laid out on the surface. You love the way his face lit up. Making himself exhilarated with his own stories. You listen intently and let yourself live vicariously through his retellings.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Eric locks an ornate chest up as you watch. Sitting on the table now cleared of his glories. “So, are you considered a sailor, explorer, or just a guy with a boat and a lot of time on his hands?”

Eric laughs, "The last one, for sure. Once I turned nineteen, my mother allowed me to venture out and sail with the crew. I've always loved the idea of discovering something new on my voyages. Whether it be places, possessions, or people."

He's moving into your space, "I am happy to have met you, Y/N."

"And I, you, Prince Eric."

"No titles here." He leans in with a hint of a grin in his whisper, "I forbid it."

"Oh, that sounds like a command, and I shall obey, Your Majesty."

He chuffs as you see his eyes drop to your necklace again. His fingers dance along the silver chain before exploring further and grazing over the top of your chest. He makes sure to peek up at you for some sort of permission. Silently, you put your hand over his own to guide him to grab a handful of your breast. Eric takes the cue and squeezes while closing the gap between you with a kiss that immediately heats up. Hands knead your breasts over your camisole-corset top.

"And here I thought you've been admiring my necklace all night. I feel scandalized," you tease while he kisses your neck.

"No, no, it is beautiful! But, these," His calloused hands give a reassuring squeeze, "are really lovely."

Hands quickly work to pull down your blouse to expose your tits. Eric rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb. Gasping, you arch up into his touch. Legs instinctively spread wider to allow him in. You feel his dick twitch the moment he presses closer.

A moan growls in the back of his throat as he rolls his hips. Grinding his hard-on into your wetting core while you kiss. Your skin grows hot, his breaths come heavy, and the heat is building between your legs. 

Eric put his mouth to your breast, sucking at your skin in obscene, open-mouthed kisses. Eliciting a low keening sound from you. He withdrew just enough to lave at your nipple, back and forth, over and over, until your pussy thrummed to the same beat.

"Is it very unprincely of me to tell you that I would very much like to fuck you right here, now, in my chambers?"

"You are but a man, my Prince."

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Your body was thrown across the desk. You don’t know where to put your hands, so they grip and scrape at the wooden surface while Eric fucks into you.

He has a firm hold on your naked waist. Keeping your long skirt hiked up to your stomach so he could watch himself penetrate you. He has a brutally harsh pace going. The delicious feel of the drag and pull of his cock.

Eric braces himself on the desk. A toned arm flexes next to your head. His face is now closer to yours as he changes the angle of his hips. With the newfound support, you feel him speed up his thrusting. He groans into your chest. Playfully biting a nipple before kissing up to your neck. His movements were enough to bring you dangerously close to reaching your high in only a few minutes.

"Oh, Prince Eric," you whine.

"Fuck." His hips stutter. "What's my name?"

"Captain Eric. Eric. Eric. "

A wave of bliss hits you and you screw your eyes shut. It doesn’t take long before both of you reach your orgasms. You hold onto Eric's biceps with all your might, as you scream his name. No doubt loud enough for everyone in the tavern to hear.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

At dawn, you're re-dressed and carefully creeping over the creaky floorboards. Trying not to wake any of the still-drunk crewmates who had found their way back onto the ship.

Catching your eye, the silver locket, sat on the once-empty desk, glints in the daybreak. Eric's back rises and falls. The rest of his bare body is covered by the messy bedsheets. Blissfully oblivious of your exit.

You let that sleeping form be your final image of the handsome Prince and disembark the Royal ship.

[morbid-mutt]

This is just a little thing I wrote after being inspired by the AI Cover Swing - Simon "Ghost" Riley. I hope you enjoy! Look forward to more COD fics in the future. (Especially König, my beloved)

Music cascaded through the dimly lit club as the scent of cigars filled the air. Y/N stood near one of the several bars situated throughout the establishment, dressed in a sleek black button-up and black trousers that hugged his form. The Private's eyes scanned over the mass of dancing bodies, the earpiece he wore buzzing to life before Price's voice invaded his senses. 

"Alright, men. Gather any intel you can manage about the Narcos deal with Russia. Keep a low profile. We meet up at midnight."

With that, Y/N pushed away from the bar with a drink held in his hand as he ventured through the crowd. He would be lying if he didn't say he was nervous. This was his first big mission after joining Task Force 141, and he was determined to make an impression. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gaz casually chatting with a stunning woman with his arm slung across her shoulders. The older soldier caught his gaze over her shoulder before nodding, the smile returning to his face as he engaged the woman again. 

Y/N situated himself in a far corner of the club, hoping to get a better vantage point of the bustling crowd. His ear pricked at the sound of hushed voices exchanging words back and forth in Spanish.

"Fucking gringos. Why the fuck is Valeria even making a deal with these idiots." 

Y/N's eyes narrowed at the sound of the infamous Sin Nombre's actual name, casually bringing the glass of scotch to his lips and taking a sip. The liquor burned in his throat and warmed his body as it slid down to settle in his belly. Bingo.

"Keep it down. Do you want to get your shit kicked in by one of Makarov's men?" 

Y/N clenched his jaw as he fought the creeping tension gathering in his shoulders. This mission was intended to be recon only, but this might be stickier than planned. He tossed his head back, downing the remainder of his drink before setting the empty glass down on a nearby table with a clink. 

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew he had to act fast if they were going to gather any helpful information before the night was over. He scanned the room once more, taking note of the exits and the location of his team members. He spotted Soap near the dance floor, blending in with the crowd effortlessly as he gathered intel. He was glad to have experienced soldiers like Soap and Gaz on his team.

As Y/N made his way toward the group of men speaking in Spanish, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear in his gut. What if he got caught? What if he blew his cover? But he pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself of his training and the importance of this mission.

He approached the group with a confident stride, his expression neutral. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Mind if I join you?" he said in flawless Spanish, a small smile playing on his lips. The men looked him up and down, sizing him up before one of them spoke up.

"What do you want?" he said, eyeing Y/N suspiciously.

Y/N kept his cool, "Just some friendly conversation. I couldn't help but overhear your discussion about El Sin Nombre's deal with Makarov. Care to share any more details?"

The men looked at each other, weighing their options before one of them spoke up. "Why should we trust you?"

Y/N took a step closer, his eyes locking with the man's. "Because I'm a businessman, just like you. And I know a good deal when I see one." 

The men exchanged a few more words in Spanish before one of them leaned in and whispered something in Y/N's ear. Y/N nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he made mental notes of everything he was hearing.

As the group dispersed, Y/N returned to the bar, his mind racing with the information he had gathered. He needed to warn the others before things got out of hand. His eyes swept over the club before settling on a familiar masked face. 

The Private pushed his way through the crowd of swaying bodies as he approached the edge of the dance floor. Y/N stopped a few feet from the Lieutenant, suppressing a snicker at the large man's appearance. He was dressed in an outfit much similar to his own, with the addition of a surgical-style skull mask covering half of his face. His tousled blonde hair was slicked back with gel. Even from where he stood, he could see the outline of his powerful muscles where the button-up clung to him.

Y/N was used to seeing the Brit dressed in his standard tactical gear, so seeing him dressed like this was almost funny. Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound, turning to face the nearby Private. He approached the shorter male in a few quick strides as the current song faded out. 

Y/N shook his head, the smile tugging at his lips faltering as he looked up at him. He needed to stay focused on the mission. 

"LT, I gathered intel on a possible meeting. Sounds like Valeria and Makarov are going to gather here tonight."

Riley's eyes flickered between the people surrounding them as trumpets blared, signaling the beginning of the next song. Y/N nearly jumped out of his skin as a rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. "Blend in." 

"What-?" The Private's words stuck in his throat as his superior tugged him onto the dance floor. "Just follow my lead."

Ghost's hand lifted to rest on his waist as his other hand slid down to capture Y/N's hand in his. The Private's eyes widened in surprise as he stuttered up at the larger man. 

"S-Sir, I don't know how to-"

Y/N stumbled a bit as Ghost led him onto the dance floor but soon found his footing as the rhythm of the music took hold of him. As they moved together, Y/N couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement coursing through him. The way Ghost moved was like nothing he had ever seen before, his body fluid and graceful as he led Y/N in a passionate dance.

The Private's heart pounded in his chest as he looked up into Ghost's eyes, feeling a connection between them that he couldn't explain. Ghost's eyes never left Y/N's as they moved together, their bodies pressed close as they swayed to the music.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh as Ghost spun him by his hand, jumping as another set of hands gripped his hips. Suddenly, he found himself pressed against a different body, looking up at the smirking face of Sergeant "Soap" MacTavish. "Evening, Private. Can I have this dance?"

The Private's voice was caught in his throat, unable to answer as Soap's hands moved to wrap his arms around his broad shoulders before returning his own hands to Y/N's hips. 

Soap wasn't nearly as graceful with his movements as Ghost's, swaying their bodies together to the rhythm of the music. The smirk on the Sergeant's face never faltered as their feet shuffled against the floor. Y/N couldn't fight the smile that pulled at his own lips, finding his superior's playful nature infectious. 

It wasn't long before Ghost's arms wrapped around him once more, pulling his back against his muscled body as he danced between the two men. "Alright, Y/N. Give us the low down." Ghost's gruff voice thrummed against his ear, slightly muffled by his mask. The Private struggled to find his voice with Soap's hand pressed against the small of his back while Ghost's hands rested on either of his hips. 

"I-I'm not sure when or where, but it sounds like Sin Nombre and Makarov are meeting tonight. Overheard it from a few of Valeria's men."

Soap grunted in acknowledgment while his hips continued to sway in tandem with the other two men. "Doesn't sound too good. LT? What should we do?" Ghost hummed in thought, his intense blue gaze meeting the Sergeant's. "I'm not too sure, Johnny. Relay with Price and see what he thinks is the best move."  

Soap released Y/N from his grasp, nodding his head to the two. He leaned down with a smirk as his eyes connected with the Private’s gaze, “Well, we’ll have to finish this another time then, won’t we?”  before disappearing into the crowd. Ghost spun the Private in his hands, returning to their dancing position once again. 

As the song reached its climax, Ghost spun Y/N around before dipping him low, their faces just inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in his throat as he looked up at the man who held him so effortlessly.

His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, his cheeks warming into a blush at the close proximity of Ghost's masked face. A crowd had gathered around them, watching the performance between the trio. There was a buzz of static in his ear before Price's voice came over the earpiece. 

"So much for a low profile. Alright, lovebirds. Focus on the mission." 

Ghost cleared his throat before lifting Y/N upright once more. His hand lingered on the Private's waist, if only for a moment, before he leaned down to speak against his ear. "Good work." The Lieutenant let his hand fall from the curve of Y/N's hip before pushing his way through the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Y/N's heart pounded in his chest as he stood there, unable to process what had just happened. He shook the clouded thoughts from his mind before returning to the bar. He raised a hand to flag over the bartender, raising his voice to speak above the music that had begun to play once more. “Bossman, another scotch, if you will.” 

Just as he was bringing the glass of his drink to his lips, Price’s voice sounded over the comms. “Evac in 10. Too many civilians to engage with the Narcos and Makarov’s men.” Y/n let out a sigh before tossing his head back and downing the scotch in one gulp, the liquor warming his body. The Private sighed as he pushed away from the bar and approached the club entrance, where he met up with the rest of his teammates. Gaz had a shit-eating grin on his expression while his eyes flitted between Ghost, Soap, and Y/N. 

“Lose the smirk, Garrick.” Ghost’s rough voice barked as Soap lifted his hand to hide the laugh that escaped him. A large SUV pulled up just outside the doors and honked its horn. The group of soldiers filed out the door before climbing into the waiting vehicle. Y/N found himself between the two men for the second time of the night, his cheeks involuntarily warming with a blush as he was practically squeezed between their hulking forms. 

Y/N dared a glance up at Ghost, noticing he was staring straight ahead, his face creased in its usual stoic and unreadable expression. He turned his head before looking up at the Scotsman on his other side, who caught his glance and winked slyly down at him. The Private cleared his throat and forced his eyes forward, his stomach clenching with nerves. The drive back to the base felt like it went on for an eternity; an odd tension crackling in the air between the Private and his superiors sat on either side of him.  ---

Several days had passed since Task Force 141’s undercover mission, and Y/N found himself sitting in the briefing room as Captain Price discussed the next steps in their plan to infiltrate the deal between their enemies. His eyes were trained forward on his Captain as he spoke, paying close attention to his instructions before a quiet humming caught his attention. Wait. Is that what he thought it was? Y/N glanced over at Ghost, who sat a few seats away, the blue orbs of his eyes focused on his underling as he hummed. The Private could tell from the slight crinkle of Ghost’s eyes through the hole in his mask that he was smirking. 

He blinked his eyes rapidly before turning his head back towards the front of the room. He must be imagining things. Just as he started paying attention to Price’s words once more, he heard it again. This time, the humming was accompanied by the sound of someone’s foot tapping against the tile floor. There’s no way this was actually happening. 

Y/N turned his head to stare at the duo with an incredulous expression on his face. The Lieutenant was humming the melody of the song that they had danced to as Soap’s foot tapped the beat with his boot. The Sergeant’s lips tugged into a smirk once he saw that Y/N had noticed their actions. The Private’s cheeks burned even hotter as he forced his gaze forward again, desperately fighting to stay focused on the briefing. 

Once the meeting was over, Y/N made his way into the common room of the barracks, settling down onto one of the couches with a sigh. He let his eyes fall closed as his head leaned back against the cushioned seat. This upcoming mission wasn’t going to be easy by any means and likely dangerous. He was determined to earn his place amongst the other soldiers on his team, so he would give it his best no matter what. His mind was so distracted that he didn’t notice when an all too familiar duo made their way into the room, only opening his eyes when a quiet click sounded from the corner of the room. 

Music began to play from a speaker as Y/N sat up from his position on the couch, his eyes widening as he looked at his superior officers. “I said we’d have to finish this later, didn’t I?” Soap said, his voice laced with his thick Scottish accent. Ghost silently made his way to the couch, taking Y/N’s hand in his own before leading him into the middle of the room. 

The Private’s voice caught in his throat, unable to form words aside from stuttering unintelligibly. The thoughts of the upcoming mission completely disappeared from his mind, only able to focus on the feeling of Ghost’s rough hand against his own as he lifted it up to wrap around his shoulder before doing the same with his other arm. The Lieutenant’s own hands shifted to rest on his hips, guiding them to sway to the sound of the music. 

Shortly after, another pair of hands joined Ghost’s on his hips as he felt Soap’s body press warmly against his back. Y/N stammered as his cheeks burned hot yet again, overwhelmed by the closeness of his teammates. He could practically feel the warm breath of Soap’s words against the shell of his ear as he spoke. “Ya know, Simon and I have been talking. About that night..” 

Ghost gave a slight nod of his head in agreement, his eyes staring intently down at Y/N as Soap continued, “We couldn’t help but notice how perfectly you fit between us when we were dancing..” Y/N’s mouth dropped open, unable to process the words that were being spoken. Soap’s lips moved to brush against the nape of his neck, goosebumps raising against his skin. The Private gulped loudly as a shiver ran through his body at the feeling of lips against his sensitive neck. 

“So what do you say, kid?” Ghost finally spoke up, his gruff voice tinged with something that Y/N couldn’t read. The Brit leaned down, invading his personal space as the trio swayed to the beat of the music. “Wanna be our dancing partner?” 

Soap’s lips brushed against his neck as he spoke again, his fingers tightening their grip on his hips, “Please, say yes.” Heat spread through Y/N’s body as he hesitated momentarily, mulling over his thoughts. Finally, he breathed in a trembling breath before nodding his head, “Y-yeah, alright.”

With that, Soap’s lips tugged into a smile before he began pressing kisses along Y/N’s neck and shoulders. Ghost chuckled deeply in his chest before releasing one hand from the Private’s hip, reaching up to push his mask just beneath his nose. His scarred lips were quirked into a smile of his own as he leaned down further, his eyes seeking permission in the Private’s eyes. 

Y/N gave a minute nod of his head before Ghost’s lips pressed against his own in a slow kiss. Butterflies crashed around the Private’s stomach as he returned the kiss, wracking his brain. This didn’t feel real. Was he dreaming? Johnny’s voice whispered against his ear as the Lieutenant pulled away from the kiss. “My turn now.” The Sergeant’s gloved hand moved from his hip to cup the smaller male’s cheek, guiding his head to look over his shoulder as his lips pressed against Y/N’s. The prickle of his stubble rubbed against his chin as he returned the kiss once more. 

Soap pulled away from the kiss with a smile, his hand returning to his hip as the song drew to an end; the three men lost in their own little world, even if only for the night. 

“Stay with me, Sway with me.~”

[jessamine-rose]

꒰ Letters to My Beloved ꒱

*sob* I just wanted to peacefully read “Letters to Milena” but ended up with another fic idea for Miguel O’Hara, this time a side story to The Spider and the Fly. Istg everywhere I go, he follows me (ꐦo_o）

For this fic, I took inspiration from this quote and Miguel’s ATSV lore. The thought of how language affects Yandere! Miguel x Variant! Darling’s dynamic…..how twistedly romantic~

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, self-deprecation, stalking, wtf is personal privacy, mention of noncon -> dubcon + nsfw, MDNI

Note:: Female reader, ATSV spoilers, guest-starring LYLA + Hobie + Spider-Cat, Darling’s mother tongue + cultural identity are different from Miguel’s (not Irish-Mexican)

♡ 4.3k words under the cut ♡

FILE NAME: ______ (EARTH-███)

— CLASSIFIED INFORMATION —

1. ______ wears the same brand of perfume.

2. Speech patterns: Softer voice, less outspoken, code-switches more often.

You don’t sound like her.

That is the second thing Miguel notices. It is another dissimilarity between you and his Variant’s wife, a significant detail which betrays closed eyes.

You have the same voice but a different manner of speaking.

You’re more quiet—softer volume, less talkative.

Your tone is anxious. Polite. Rarely cheerful, unless feigned.

Every sentence is carefully worded. There are more sorry’s and maybe’s.

There is also your code-switching. Unlike her, you habitually curse and talk to yourself in your mother tongue. But with others, you switch to perfect English—and you do it all the time, with greater proficiency, even when you are speaking to Miguel.

His wife is also the last person to cry and vent to Spider-Man. But that is an unfair comparison, given the circumstances of your first meeting.

To you, Miguel O’Hara is a new acquaintance and that is reflected in your conversations. It is only natural that there are no endearments, no inside jokes, no ounce of familiarity.

When he speaks to you, he doesn’t have to imitate another Miguel.

꒰♡꒱

“Um, excuse me? Spider-Man?”

He turns to face you. “What is it?”

Soft tone, not much eye contact. Your next words are even less familiar.

“I…haven’t gotten your name yet, have I?”

It’s just the two of you in the elevator. There wouldn’t be any awkward silence if the other Spider-Men had joined you, but they were sent home after their mission in Earth-███.

Their company won’t do you any good. It hasn’t even been an hour since your rescue, and you need time to adjust. He needs time to process everything.

…Your resemblance to her is uncanny yet minimal. Different hairstyle. Professional attire with stylish jewelry. An ID for a company which she’d find dull and unfulfilling. Dark eye circles, a nervous frown, a dim gaze trained on the floor.

A day pass is secured to your wrist, soon to be replaced with a modified Dimensional Travel Watch. A Lock feature would be a good safety measure.

Before Miguel can respond, you are already overthinking.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked earlier but I was still shaken from—wait, is it rude to ask for your identity? Is that why you haven’t told me?”

“Calm down.” He touches your shoulder, just briefly enough to get your attention. “It’s fine. I was planning to tell you later.”

Your relief is obvious. “Really? You’re sure about this?”

Are you always like this or is it just the emotional shock? Considering the situation he found you in, he has a lot of personal data to gather.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He reveals his face, analyzing your reactions. “And I’m this dimension’s Spider-Man.”

No flicker of recognition—another version of you who has never met him.

“Noted.” You repeat his name to yourself, pronouncing it slowly. “Thanks for telling me.”

It sounds almost foreign in your voice. And now that he is looking closely, is your lipstick a darker shade?

When you face him, your lips are drawn in a shy smile. “I’m ______, by the way.”

You use your maiden name, not O’Hara.

“I know.”

7. ______ doesn’t understand Spanish.

It was easier to communicate with his wife.

Intimacy aside, she’d learned Spanish for her Miguel. She rarely spoke it, but she clearly understood his bilingual conversations with Gabriella.

Their daughter didn’t know your language. As a matter of fact, she always seemed more connected to Miguel’s roots than yours. The most she’d learned was a few phrases and the names of your favorite food.

It made sense. Among your Variants, his wife was the most disconnected from her family and, consequently, her community. With less opportunities to use your language, she’d forgotten most of it and found no practical benefit in teaching it to Gabriella.

Or maybe it was to establish more barriers between her old and new family. To keep her daughter deaf to the former’s criticisms.

Regardless, your language constituted her chats with old friends, her wistful stories of the past, the expressions which eluded translation. It took a while for Miguel to learn her speech patterns and replicate her husband’s responses.

On his first day in their dimension, he looked through his Variant’s belongings and found a Spanish textbook. There were two sets of handwriting in the margins, yours and his.

It must’ve held special memories. He could enviously imagine his wife’s earnest efforts, her Miguel’s amused guidance, the expansion of her capacity to understand him.

It wasn’t the only thing exclusive to the happiest versions of yourselves.

A first meeting which occurred under a <0.001% probability. Dates spent bonding over the expectations of their families and Nueva York. The happy family they created together.

His Variant called her mi sol. It was a fitting nickname.

To this day, Miguel wonders if it sounded different in his voice.

22. Fluent in mother tongue, more connected to her cultural heritage.

23. Dislikes direct confrontation, tends to hide her feelings and vent in private. More creative with insults.

You do surpass his wife in other categories.

You’re more organized. Your cooking tastes better. You are a good listener, a competent secretary, and the last person to give Miguel a headache.

You have a stronger cultural identity, despite coming from an equally prejudiced version of New York—or is it because of that? In a world which treats you like an outsider, perhaps that is why you’ve latched onto your heritage for an easier sense of belonging.

It explains why you put up with your family’s values, no matter how biased.

It means that you can speak your language fluently, with none of his wife’s guilty errors and pauses. Only then do you act more confident than her, less regretful.

And it manifests in your speech patterns, in the moments when you aren’t adjusting your manner of speaking for someone else.

In your personal notes, you mix English and your mother tongue. It’s the same for your conversations with the Spider-Men who know your language.

You speak in a localized variety of English with its own vocabulary, pronunciations, and untranslatable terms. Your version sounds nicer, more articulated.

You are more vocal in your language since less people understand it. It’s your default tongue for swear words and sarcastic comments.

Once, you were given extra work due to an MIA Spider-Man. Before contacting him, you opened a blank file to type paragraphs of profanities and insults in every language you spoke. Then you promptly deleted it and sent him a polite, if not passive aggressive, message.

LYLA had picked the perfect time to hack into your device. She saved a copy for Miguel, who felt less stressed after reading it.

He might have quoted a few lines when he confronted the same agent.

53. Handwriting: More legible, heavier pressure, prefers the same color of ink. ______ writes less often, only for short notes.

Securing a handwriting sample is easier than expected.

In the futuristic dimensions, digital text is the go-to medium for communication. But like his wife, you write physical notes every so often; his research links it to a mutual memory.

Your personal reminders are handwritten. Your old laptop has scanned documents with your signature and written information. Whenever you prepare packed lunches for Miguel, you include little notes for him.

Good luck. Take care of yourself. Call me when the mission is over.

His wife rarely wrote notes for him, so that is another exclusive perk.

Her handwriting was more aesthetic, according to Miguel’s memories and a folded note he’d kept. The latter’s contents are nothing special, just a to-do list with four unchecked tasks, but it is sufficient for comparisons.

You grip your pen differently, too. Your writer’s callus is lighter, and its location is off by exactly one millimeter. Still, he likes the feeling of your hand in his.

꒰♡꒱

“How many times are you going to read that?”

LYLA checks the food container. It is Miguel’s favorite snack this time, with a purple Post-It taped to the lid.

“Tell me if I should adjust the recipe. Might be too sweet. -______”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, setting aside the note.

“If you say so,” she trills. “At this rate, you’ll need a hammerspace for her notes.”

“A text would’ve been more efficient.”

Then again, it can’t be compared to reading your written words. Maybe it’s due to the specific medium, the interplay of visual and tactile sensations, a past version of you preserved in letters and imaginary voices. It isn’t the same as watching a video of you.

There is also his own perspective as a Nueva Yorker. Digital and handwritten text are vastly dissimilar. One is consistent, formattable, and widely-used while the other demands to be deciphered. And your letters always change depending on your mood or health.

Miguel traces the back of the Post-It. The indentations are less heavy. Were you in a hurry when you wrote the message? Focused on something else? Or is it an issue with your pen?

LYLA is still smiling. “Someone is growing soft.”

He glares at her this time. “Do you always have to call me out?”

99. More friendly with the Spider-Men who know her language.

100. Hobie Brown asked ______ to teach him a bit of her language. He specifically asked for swear words and the term for “close friends.”

You don’t know that Miguel can understand you.

Nueva York has a vast selection of translation devices, but the technology is insufficient. AI fails to interpret the tone of your voice, your personal vocabulary, and how those factors alter the meanings of certain words.

It can’t decode his wife’s speech patterns. There was a history to her endearments, a context for every word. But Miguel could only play along and take what she said at face value, even after learning your language.

He keeps it a secret from you, in case it becomes useful.

But hiding that skill comes with its own cons. The ______ who limits herself to English is different from the ______ who expresses herself in mixed languages.

It’s apparent in your chats with Miguel versus other Spider-Men. Foreign nicknames, inside jokes, secrets exchanged in your shared language—they are privy to another version of you, one whom he can only access through hacked texts and CCTV recordings.

It is only in those speech patterns that he can find you in your entirety.

꒰♡꒱

You’re talking to your friends again.

Miguel switches to a closer CCTV and raises the volume.

Great, it’s Hobie and your dimension’s Spider-Man.

Despite their increase in missions, they’ve still found time to visit you in HQ. This time, Hobie is learning a few phrases from your language. His accent keeps messing up his pronunciation, but you’re a patient teacher.

At the same time, your Spider-Man is informing you of recent events in your old home. Miguel makes a mental note to do more research on Earth-███ slang.

You check your personal messages, and Miguel opens another holographic screen. The spyware shows a group chat with your close coworkers.

They are planning a film marathon—in HQ, so that you can join them. It takes a few backspaces for you to accept their invitation.

“LYLA.”

“Huh?” She appears in front of Miguel, fresh out of Sleep Mode.

“Assign Spider-Punk and Spider-Man ███ to the Anomaly in Earth-94. Then put…” Miguel opens the Nicknames tab of the chat. “...Peter G, Patrick, Julia, and Felicia in charge of next Friday’s missions. Any dimension will do.”

“Seriously?” LYLA gives him a knowing look. “Ben hasn’t called for backup. And should I remind you of last Sunday, 12:31:46 p.m., when ______ friendzoned Patrick? I have the video in three CCTV angles, max volume.”

“Just do it.” He lightly swats her, only for LYLA to flicker out of his grasp.

Through the CCTVs, Miguel watches her speak to your friends. They activate a portal and say goodbye to you. After they leave, you reread the group chat, smiling.

“She’ll be disappointed, you know,” LYLA informs him. “You better make it up to her during your movie night.”

“Send me her personal schedule.”

Miguel scrolls up the group chat for the movie titles. Nueva York’s versions are usually darker in terms of storyline; both of you would prefer that.

The next agent to approach you is Spider-Cat. He loafs on your desk, to which you eagerly take photos and mimic his meows.

“Should I do something?” LYLA asks sarcastically.

“Don’t mind him. He is her Sector’s emotional support animal.”

150. “Pretty” is also an important term in ______’s vocabulary.

If there is one word which sounds the same in your voice, it is “pretty.”

It was his wife’s best compliment, frequently said without explanation. It must’ve been a nice change from her job, where magazine layouts required professional critiques.

Everything was pretty—butterflies, fashion collections, the Banksy-esque glitches which appeared in her dimension prior to its collapse.

Gabriella, especially. She was always “pretty,” even in her regular outfits and soccer uniforms. That was something which Miguel could always agree with.

It’s similar with you, though you’re less vocal about it. There are only so many praises you can give to Nueva York’s fashion scene or your coworkers’ spiderwebs.

Unlike his wife, however, you don’t call yourself pretty.

There are zero records of you using that term to describe yourself. The most you will say is that you look pretty in an outfit, never thanks to your natural features. It is a distinct crack in your self-image, another deviation from her.

Hence, your weakness to flattery—one which Miguel has guiltily exploited through the rare compliment or responses to LYLA’s calculated remarks.

There is another key difference in how you and his wife use that term.

His Variant’s wife had never called Spider-Man 2099’s webs pretty.

But you do.

꒰♡꒱

“Careful, don’t break it!”

“Are we seriously having this conversation again?” Miguel gives you an exasperated look, claws raised. “It’s just a web.”

“But still…!” You pull your hand away from his, the motion illuminated in red. “I’d like to preserve the design.”

“Which would be fine,” he counters, “if it were actually removable.”

Sentimental. Just like her.

In the dim light of his room, your stubborn expression is eclipsed by his webs. The laser red threads are still stuck to your wrists, but they’ve been woven into a glovelike pattern over your left hand. The design lacks the coherence of your string figures.

Seriously, you were only left alone for five minutes. The last thing Miguel expected was to come back to you like this, staring at his webs with a weak smile, your admiration undeterred by every ugly purpose they have served.

You shouldn’t be so calm right now.

The alternative would be easier to grasp. Any other ______—his Variant’s wife, especially—would have cursed him, fought back once the venom wore off, resisted to the very end, and he would’ve accepted all of her hatred. He deserves it after everything he has done.

But you defied his predictions. What happened instead was your breakdown. Your shift from fearful resistance to broken submission. Reciprocated touches. Soft moans and heartfelt whispers. Desperate pleas for him to keep talking, to tell you everything he loves about you, that you can handle one more round…

And more crying. Lots of happy tears, so unlike those from your first meeting. Neither can he attribute them to acute emotional shock.

You make different sounds in bed, but the circumstances allow that.

This is between you and him, after all. Your first time together, neither of you pretending.

He hears a defeated sigh.

“Fine.” Reluctantly, you hold out your hand. “I’ll just save this image in my memory. But can you untangle the webs instead?”

It’s the least he can do for you. “Where do I start?”

You point at the base of your ring finger. “Here.”

The final knot is a ribbon bow, tied in the same spot as her wedding ring. 

With a shake of his head, Miguel retracts his claws and takes your hand. The knots are easy to unravel, and are quickly reduced to a handful of loose threads in your palm.

“Happy now?” he asks you.

You close your hand, a small smile on your face. “I’ll keep it somewhere safe.”

He lets go of your wrist. “Do whatever you want with it. I don’t mind.”

Pulse is normal. The friction burns should heal in a few days.

An awkward silence falls. Now would be a good time to clean you up; but before he can suggest it, your bath is delayed once more by a glance at the mirror.

“Skies.” You visibly recoil and cover your face with a new pillow. Your muffled curses and self-criticisms are easy to decode. “I look like a mess.”

Miguel observes your reflection. You don’t look that bad…minus the love bites, the twin dots on your neck, and the other traces of his touch. Most severe are the claw marks on your thigh, hidden beneath a layer of bandages.

It isn’t deep enough to scar. But that doesn’t make the memory any less painful.

“It’s nothing to cry about,” he says drily, eyeing his own marks.

Now you are glaring at him. “Says the person at fault.”

In his peripheral vision, he notices your hand on your stomach. Your fingertips barely graze the skin, shaky and hesitant…of course. The aftermath must be on your mind.

Note to self: Tell LYLA to monitor your vitals until a pregnancy test can be taken.

“I hope this one looks like you,” he mumbles.

“What?” Just as quickly as he says it, your eyes widen with renewed disbelief. “Is this about…what the hell did you just say?!”

He puts his hand on top of yours, pressing it to your stomach.

“We won’t know until our kid is born,” he says lightly, “but I’ve run a few simulations. Among the DNA combinations, over half are in favor of your physical traits.”

So many possibilities, so many variations of their family.

The explanation does little to comfort you. “But what about your traits? Or a mix of both! I mean…think of Gabriella! She’s adorable, very pretty, all thanks to your genes…”

Your voice trails off. When you continue, you speak in a soft whisper.

“Even if the chances are small, wouldn’t you prefer a kid who looks like her?”

“No.” His answer is immediate, spoken with zero hesitation.

Even if the physical possibility exists, his daughter is exclusive to a dead memory. And how could he handle a replica of the child he failed to protect?

His grip on your hand tightens. “Like you said earlier, it requires specific cells. And before you ask, I don’t have the time to genetically edit their appearance.”

“Oh, okay.” There is a deep breath, a comfortable silence. “That makes perfect sense.”

What else? There’s also Miguel’s Spider DNA, your parenting styles, and many other factors which could never recreate Gabriella. What will your kid’s name be? Will they learn your language alongside English and Spanish? Will they be encouraged to take up soccer or a different hobby?

Is a happy family possible for the two of you?

It’s hard to say. But it’s still a fresh start, for which he can set aside logic.

“Besides,” he adds. He holds your gaze, committing those bright eyes to memory. “I can’t imagine a prettier face for our kid to inherit.”

…

¿Diablos, are you crying again?

153. ______ dislikes being called “mi sol.”

He understands.

It was her nickname, after all.

And there must be a reason why his Variant chose it over other pet names. Maybe it was because he liked the sound of it, or the imagery suited his wife, or it came from a personal memory which the two of you could never replicate.

With that being said, old habits die hard.

Once or twice, Miguel accidentally calls you mi sol, and it is difficult to recover from that. Your demeanor stiffens, he mentally curses himself, then he or LYLA must awkwardly continue the conversation. It’s impossible to forget her, really.

To some extent, he will always be haunted by his lost family. But it’s better now that he has one to call his own.

As it turns out, picking the right endearment takes time. There aren’t enough words in Spanish, English, or any other language to encapsulate Miguel’s feelings for you.

So far, he has gone through a few terms—mi luz, mi vida, and so on—with little variation in reception. They don’t do justice to the subtleties he has fallen in love with, all of which belong to his own version of ______.

He likes the color of your lipstick. The darker shade suits your aesthetic, your shy smiles, the movements of your lips, the occasional kiss marks left on his skin.

He likes hearing your personal stories. It’s your way of opening up to him, of telling him every aspect of your life which deviated from hers and brought you to him.

He likes your speech patterns. The languages you speak, your rudimentary Spanish, even a simple “Welcome home” can become poetry in your voice.

His own name, especially. It has never sounded more intimate, spoken with a wider range of emotions. Shyness, confusion, fear, anger, resignation, affection, happiness…it is a manner of speaking reserved for him, your Miguel.

You don’t sound like her at all. But nowadays, he doesn’t mind.

If anything, he has begun to prefer your voice.

167. ______ changed my nickname in her Contacts.

“You have a text from ______!”

The update prompts both Spider-Men to face LYLA. Miguel glances at his coworker, but their mask hides their expression.

A smile flickers on LYLA’s face. “No further Anomalies, by the way. The Canon remains intact.”

Thank god.

His attention returns to the Anomaly—Earth-26496’s Vulture, more tech-savvy than his Renaissance-Era counterpart, an equally shocking mess to deal with.

“Peter, bring him back to HQ. And try not to cause any more commotion.”

“Sure, boss!” With that, his coworker picks up the unconscious Vulture and swings back to HQ, avoiding the damaged Nueva York buildings.

Of all places, it had to appear in his dimension.

Left alone, Miguel checks his phone and opens a holographic screen.

Office desktop, webcam view. The CCTV shows you in the middle of work, examining video records and analytics. Five screens are in simultaneous use.

You look pretty, perfectly polished, your love bites and dark eye circles concealed with makeup. Maybe a bit anxious due to the news alert of the Anomaly.

He reads your texts, sends a reply, and watches the CCTV. Your eyes light up at first sight of the notification, and you immediately pick up your phone.

-

______: Are you okay?

Miguel ♡: the anomaly is being brought to hq

Miguel ♡: stay in your sector until it’s detained

______: Congratulations on saving another universe! &lt;3

______: Did you get any injuries?

Miguel ♡: i’m fine. you can stop worrying

______: That’s good to know. But a checkup wouldn’t hurt.

______: Are we still going out later?

Miguel ♡: an anomaly literally just showed up in earth-928

Miguel ♡: right outside the cinema we were supposed to be at

______: Which you just captured!!

______: And before you say anything, we have zero records of Anomalies getting sent to the same place in a dimension.

______: Have you forgotten the Doc Ock who appeared in the lobby of HQ?

Miguel ♡: we can always reschedule our date

______: Can’t we go to another cinema?

______: It’s been a month since I’ve last gone out.

______: And no, working in HQ doesn’t count.

Miguel ♡: it’s safer to have our movie night at home

______: All right -_-

______: What do you want for dinner later?

Miguel ♡: anything is fine

-

Your expressions match your words. Relief followed by disappointment, the conflicted awareness in your gaze, a resigned shake of your head.

LYLA flickers in front of the screen. “The CCTV is a bit much if you ask me. Be honest, are you really checking if she’s being genuine or do you just want to see her?”

His gaze shifts to his phone. “First answer.”

She hums, unconvinced. “I’ll download the digital version of the movie. But don’t get too excited, Miguel—you’re missing out on her date outfit.”

“You can always show me the CCTV records.”

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Three dots, a full minute. What exactly are you typing?

Miguel faces the CCTV. You’re still on your phone, an indecisive look on your face, so he opens another holographic screen.

And that is when he sees it.

On your phone screen is a short, unsent message.

A mere second after he rereads it, you delete the text and type the same phrase in Spanish. Only to replace it with your mother tongue’s version. Then in English again.

“LYLA, turn on the volume.”

“Sure thing!”

From the CCTV, you mutter the message to yourself, trying out all three variations. Your tone is soft, uncertain, hopeful and uneasy in equal parts. Your thumb hovers above your phone screen, close to the Send button…

Then you hit backspace and respond with “See you later” instead.

“Too bad,” says LYLA. She shoots him a mischievous look. “Better luck next time. Why don’t you say it first more often?” 

“We’ll see,” he mumbles, viewing the text on his phone. “I can hardly say it right now.”

“Sure you can! I bet she’ll be happy to have it saved on her device.”

Instead, Miguel opens another holographic screen, a personal file this time. He types in the password, scrolls to the last line, and adds a new observation.

168. ______ is still figuring out how to say “I love you.”

♡

Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Miguel’s Darling Files

*gasp wheeze* First Mary Howitt, now Franz Kafka……..istg if another author inspires me to write smth for Miguel O’Hara, I’m losing it.

This is officially my most difficult fic to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Your feedback means a lot to me, so pls don’t feel shy to share your thoughts and comments >:’3

Once again, thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! My Miguel O’Hara fics wouldn’t be the same without your assistance and tolerance for my brainrot, and I truly appreciate it (´-ω-`)

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @yandere-romanticaa @bweoo @kocherry @oofasleep @h2o2-and-baking-soda @yandere-wishes @hisachuu @weebsinstash @letskidaddle @handsomeunderwear-art @literaree @pumpkin-toffee @miggyyyyohara @qiaipia @abyssalrot @miguelswifey04 @skeleton-on-wheels0 @dilfartist @spiderscavenger @saharadesertaj @iamfakeu @angelplummie @obsessedwithromance @robindere

[jackmercerenthuiast]

☆Number - Jack Mercer x Reader

☆ idc Jack Mercer doesn’t have enough fanfics so I’m here to serve justice.

☆Would recommend listening to ‘You Can Be The Boss’ by Lana Del Rey

Content: Mentions of drugs alcohol, suggestive language, mentions of gang violence

~و✧…彡☆ - btw pretend Jack survived x

彡☆ 2005          19:36PM

‘This job is honestly ass’  I said to my most common customer, and closest friend, Sofi. It was true, I hated my job, it was a fucking shithole, I mean it was a dingy bar in the rough parts of Detroit, a little girl’s dream clearly.

‘Aye (name) don’t be so silly, it pays the bills, and plus, you get a lot of guys working here.’ She wasn’t wrong, I mean it did pay the bills after all but the amount of guys that I didn’t want? Uncountable.

‘I know Sof’, but they’re all ugly most of the time, plus, when they’re that pissed out of their minds, ‘no’ doesn’t compute easy, they got determination I’ll say that. Gets me a few tips I suppose.’ I laughed, cleaning the nearby table where Sofi sat. ‘Speaking of guys, can’t believe you’re seeing that Angel Mercer again!’ I asked, sitting next to her and nudging her shoulder.

‘I don’t like the way you said ‘Again’ but at least I have a man. Though, how old are you now?’ She asked, smiling at the ground when she answered about Angel, absolutely smitten, is the only words I could describe her.

‘Twentyyy... one?’ I questioned myself as I pulled out my ID, just double checking I was actually 21. 

‘You really think that checking your ID is going to help? How many fake IDs did you have when you were 17 to get cigarettes?’ Me and Sofi go back to when I was 17 and freshly moved to America, she lived in the apartment next to me and we’d been best friends since she welcomed me into the new apartment.

‘Shut up girl, this is a real one, and I am right I’m 21.’ I laughed, smacking my ID on the table.

‘Okay okay, anywho, Angel has a brother, Jack who’s the same age as you, and he got shot recently, he’s getting out of hospital today and a little birdie told me him and his brothers are coming here in an hour or so to celebrate.’ She suggested, walking over to the bar.

‘Oh yeah? Well from what you’ve told me the birdie is actually quite big.’ I smirk as I pour myself a pint from the tap, Sofi hit me on my arm, telling me to shut up in Spanish. I love Sofi but she loves to overshare about her sex life, but it’s fun to mess with her about it. 

…彡☆      19:54PM

A few moments passed, as me and Sofi just talked about random things, about how crazy it was that Victor Sweet had finally been killed, what Sofi wanted to do career wise etc. When all of a sudden, a bunch of loud men burst through the door, as I recognise a very familiar face.

‘Jerry!’

‘(Name)! What’s goin’ on baby?’ He said as he approached the bar, politely shaking my hand, Jerry was like a big brother to me, always nice and fair.

‘Nothin’ much, your wife know you here? I can call her right now if she don’t.’

‘Nah she knows, I’m truthful to my lady, and seeing as I’m so truthful, can we get a few rounds free?’

I laughed and nodded saying as long as I got tipped I’d give them whatever.

‘Bullshit Jerry, we all keep secrets here.’ A bloke in leather, with a goatee sort of thing going on says, laughing and hitting his back.

‘Man shut the fuck up before I woop yo’ white ass. (Name), these are my brothers Bobby, Jack and Angel, I guess you’re already acquainted with Angel here.’

‘Yeah man, it’s hard not to know who Angel is when all I hear in my apartment is those two getting it on.’ I say, lighting a cigarette whilst directioning my hand to Sofi and Angel.

Then I looked at Jack, and all I thought was ‘Damn he’s fine’.

‘So you lovely ladies want tables or are you gonna keep me company and sit at the bar?’

‘I think the guys are alright with sitting at the bar, right guys?’ Jerry said, asking his brothers, they all nodded and agreed as they took seats at the bar.

‘Can I get a beer?’ The one who I assumed was Bobby, asked.

‘Can you be specific, Guiness? Heineken? A pint? Half-pint? And I don’t know maybe a please?’ I chuckled, directioning to the amount of beers there were to choose from

‘She had you on that one Bobby, she’s very passionate about her alcohol.’ Angel said. 

‘And why’s that, you an alcoholic or somethin?’

‘No, I don’t know if you can tell from the accent but it’s just from being English really.’ I could see Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, he was really cute.

‘Ah, I don’t know man just give me a bottle of Guiness.’

‘Please?’

‘Please.’

…彡☆           20:20PM

About half an hour passed before I finally talked to Jack, I slid down the bar, making my way to where he sat, leaving the rest of the brothers and Sofi to do whatever.

‘You’re Jack I take it?’

‘Yeah and you’re.. (name)?’

‘Indeed it is, what drink you want Jackie?’

‘I don’t mind really, can I get a cigarette? The hospital wouldn’t let me bring ‘em in.’ He laughed, god damn his laugh. I’ve known this boy for 45 minutes and I’m whipped

‘Yeah sure and I’m sorry to hear that you got shot by the way, you ‘re lucky you survived love.’ I could see him the try to hide the fact me calling him love got a reaction out of him, it’s not particularly uncommon for me to call customers love, but it’s usually older customers, just out of respect, though for him? I just said it to get a reaction.

‘Thanks, how long you been working at the bar?’

‘Not long really, few months? I’ve only been in America for a couple of years, I think four years.’ Passing him a cigarette and a lighter whilst taking a puff of my own.

‘Ah cool, how come you moved?’

‘I don’t know really, I suppose to just be with my mum, seeing as she wanted to just get away.’

‘Your parents split?’

‘Yeah but it was probably the best choice they collectively made.’ I laughed, pouring him a drink.

‘Fair enough, you do anything else other than be the only good-looking bar tender in Detroit?’ Um sir? 

‘Don’t flatter me Jackie, but yeah actually, I play the bass here and there.’

…彡☆ Jack POV  …彡☆

‘Don’t flatter me Jackie...’ Man, I haven’t even known her that long and I can’t help but want to take her out. 

‘Ah bass? That’s cool man, I play the guitar, before I moved back to Detroit I was actually in a band, believe it or not.’ Flicking my cigarette ash in the nearby ashtray, when I had an idea. I asked her for a pen and she handed me the one in her shirt pocket.

‘I certainly believe it, but anywho I can’t concentrate on your pretty face all night, I’ll serve some other customers and I’ll be back soon.’ She said winking at me, I felt my face go so warm, Sofi definitely knew I was going red, and to my misfortune, so did Bobby.

‘Woah Jackie, did the bullet knock the fairy out of you or what?!’

‘Shut up man, you probably haven’t been flirted with in the last 10 years.’

‘Sure fairy whatever you say.’

…彡☆    22:17PM     your pov

‘Okay boys we’re gonna leave now, because for some reason I got designated driver duty so come on! You too Sofi vámanos!’ Jerry yelled, dragging Sofi and Angel by the collars of their shirts, I laughed to myself as all of the brothers continued to leave in a drunken mess, the night was full of brotherly love, teasing and intense flirting between me and Jack, as he had more drinks he got more bold with how he spoke.

I was absolutely whipped, and as Jack left, he gave me a cigarette and said, 

‘Don’t light it right away.’ with a drunken but genuine smile, I responded, ‘Don’t worry Jackie I won’t, see you soon.’ and I pecked him on the cheek as I left for the room where I kept my coat to close up my shift, taking the cigarette with me.

Later in the night I was certain there was something I had forgotten to do, and then it hit me, I probably was meant to look at the cigarette or something, and then I thought, ‘Where’s the cigarette?’, and I trudged to my sofa and grabbed my coat, luckily the cig was still in my pocket.

I twizzled it in my fingers, when I saw numbers written on one side, and a note saying, ‘Call me - Jackie’ with a heart next to it on the other, that smooth motherfucker. I unravelled the cigarette, putting the nicotine in a spare pouch and attached the note to my fridge with a magnet with the intentions to call him in the morning.

…彡☆     The End!

Please let me know if you liked this, if so I might write a part 2 to it or just continue to write Jack mercer fics seeing as there just aren’t enough! Love ya x