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xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

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Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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sayruq · 2 months

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Israel is executing an online influence campaign using hundreds of fake social media accounts to advance "Israeli interests" among progressive western audiences, including US lawmakers, Haaretz reported on 19 March, citing an investigation by Israeli media watchdog group Fake Reporter. The campaign is focused specifically on amplifying reports claiming the involvement of UNRWA workers in the 7 October attack on Israel. As The Cradle has reported previously, Israel provided no evidence for its claims, which were part of a campaign to compel western nations to cut funding to the agency. UNRWA plays a crucial role in delivering aid to Palestinians amid Israel's campaign to impose famine in Gaza.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #unrwa #misinformation #hasbara #israeli propaganda #manufactured consent

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cosmicoryx · 2 years

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i LOVE research and would love to do a PhD someday but the amount of presentations you are expected to do and number of emails you have to send is straight up inhumane

#so many seminars and meetings and progress reports #bro i just wanna do my little experiments in peace :(#i know med will probably have a lot of collaboration as well but i feel much more comfortable with my foundational knowledge of a & p #i feel so out of my depth in lab med...

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victorluvsalice · 2 years

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AU Thursday: A “Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland” Status Update!

Yes, I AM currently working on the seconds part of this massive epic, and I am pleased to report that I am in Chapter Two! :D In case you were wondering, Chapter One covered Alice’s arrival to Downtown, the Sabbat’s attack on her and Nine’s rescue, her walking around Downtown proper and meeting Strauss and the Anarchs (and not particularly liking either) and picking up the “plaguebearers” missions, her reporting to LaCroix, and her taking on the Elizabeth Dane mission. So far, Chapter Two has covered her turning in “Elizabethan Rendezvous” to LaCroix and receiving “Calling Dr. Grout” for later --

And finally, FINALLY catching up with Victor. :D Having just gotten the Skyeline apartment, she’s taken him there and they’re discussing histories. Such as the fact that he once married a corpse bride. XD Dunno how long this one’s gonna go, but we’ll find out -- Alice has to do a BIT of side-questing and work on the plaguebearers before the evening is out. . .

#londerland bloodlines #downtown queensland #progress report #just so you know it is coming :p #but we all know that the chapters in these stories are MASSIVE now #I mean chapter one is 29 pages #I'm surprised it's THAT short given all it covers #but then again this is the first draft #and Alice gets the Easy Route through the Dane thanks to Heinz #so that's something #but it is such a RELIEF to actually have Victor as part of the main story now #I missed him #now we can actually start working toward Valice #and eventual Vemilicia #yaaaay #queued

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month

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Too big to care

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Remember the first time you used Google search? It was like magic. After years of progressively worsening search quality from Altavista and Yahoo, Google was literally stunning, a gateway to the very best things on the internet.

Today, Google has a 90% search market-share. They got it the hard way: they cheated. Google spends tens of billions of dollars on payola in order to ensure that they are the default search engine behind every search box you encounter on every device, every service and every website:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Not coincidentally, Google's search is getting progressively, monotonically worse. It is a cesspool of botshit, spam, scams, and nonsense. Important resources that I never bothered to bookmark because I could find them with a quick Google search no longer show up in the first ten screens of results:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Even after all that payola, Google is still absurdly profitable. They have so much money, they were able to do a $80 billion stock buyback. Just a few months later, Google fired 12,000 skilled technical workers. Essentially, Google is saying that they don't need to spend money on quality, because we're all locked into using Google search. It's cheaper to buy the default search box everywhere in the world than it is to make a product that is so good that even if we tried another search engine, we'd still prefer Google.

This is enshittification. Google is shifting value away from end users (searchers) and business customers (advertisers, publishers and merchants) to itself:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

And here's the thing: there are search engines out there that are so good that if you just try them, you'll get that same feeling you got the first time you tried Google.

When I was in Tucson last month on my book-tour for my new novel The Bezzle, I crashed with my pals Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. I've know them since I was a teenager (Patrick is my editor).

We were sitting in his living room on our laptops – just like old times! – and Patrick asked me if I'd tried Kagi, a new search-engine.

Teresa chimed in, extolling the advanced search features, the "lenses" that surfaced specific kinds of resources on the web.

I hadn't even heard of Kagi, but the Nielsen Haydens are among the most effective researchers I know – both in their professional editorial lives and in their many obsessive hobbies. If it was good enough for them…

I tried it. It was magic.

No, seriously. All those things Google couldn't find anymore? Top of the search pile. Queries that generated pages of spam in Google results? Fucking pristine on Kagi – the right answers, over and over again.

That was before I started playing with Kagi's lenses and other bells and whistles, which elevated the search experience from "magic" to sorcerous.

The catch is that Kagi costs money – after 100 queries, they want you to cough up $10/month ($14 for a couple or $20 for a family with up to six accounts, and some kid-specific features):

https://kagi.com/settings?p=billing_plan&plan=family

I immediately bought a family plan. I've been using it for a month. I've basically stopped using Google search altogether.

Kagi just let me get a lot more done, and I assumed that they were some kind of wildly capitalized startup that was running their own crawl and and their own data-centers. But this morning, I read Jason Koebler's 404 Media report on his own experiences using it:

https://www.404media.co/friendship-ended-with-google-now-kagi-is-my-best-friend/

Koebler's piece contained a key detail that I'd somehow missed:

When you search on Kagi, the service makes a series of “anonymized API calls to traditional search indexes like Google, Yandex, Mojeek, and Brave,” as well as a handful of other specialized search engines, Wikimedia Commons, Flickr, etc. Kagi then combines this with its own web index and news index (for news searches) to build the results pages that you see. So, essentially, you are getting some mix of Google search results combined with results from other indexes.

In other words: Kagi is a heavily customized, anonymized front-end to Google.

The implications of this are stunning. It means that Google's enshittified search-results are a choice. Those ad-strewn, sub-Altavista, spam-drowned search pages are a feature, not a bug. Google prefers those results to Kagi, because Google makes more money out of shit than they would out of delivering a good product:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/4/2/24117976/best-printer-2024-home-use-office-use-labels-school-homework

No wonder Google spends a whole-ass Twitter every year to make sure you never try a rival search engine. Bottom line: they ran the numbers and figured out their most profitable course of action is to enshittify their flagship product and bribe their "competitors" like Apple and Samsung so that you never try another search engine and have another one of those magic moments that sent all those Jeeves-askin' Yahooers to Google a quarter-century ago.

One of my favorite TV comedy bits is Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator; Tomlin would do these pitches for the Bell System and end every ad with "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company":

https://snltranscripts.jt.org/76/76aphonecompany.phtml

Speaking of TV comedy: this week saw FTC chair Lina Khan appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was amazing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

The coverage of Khan's appearance has focused on Stewart's revelation that when he was doing a show on Apple TV, the company prohibited him from interviewing her (presumably because of her hostility to tech monopolies):

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/apple-got-caught-censoring-its-own

But for me, the big moment came when Khan described tech monopolists as "too big to care."

What a phrase!

Since the subprime crisis, we're all familiar with businesses being "too big to fail" and "too big to jail." But "too big to care?" Oof, that got me right in the feels.

Because that's what it feels like to use enshittified Google. That's what it feels like to discover that Kagi – the good search engine – is mostly Google with the weights adjusted to serve users, not shareholders.

Google used to care. They cared because they were worried about competitors and regulators. They cared because their workers made them care:

https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/2019/4/4/18295933/google-cancels-ai-ethics-board

Google doesn't care anymore. They don't have to. They're the search company.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

#pluralistic #john stewart #the daily show #apple #monopoly #lina khan #ftc #too big to fail #too big to jail #monopolism #trustbusting #antitrust #search #enshittification #kagi #google

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nocturnalrat · 11 months

Note

Can I request Earth 42 miles x reader. Reader goes to a nightclub with some friends even after Miles told her not to. She gets shit faced and one of miles friends spot her and tell hims and you take it from there. Please sprinkle some possessive maybe a 🤏🏽 toxic Miles in there, thank you ❤️

Thank you for the prompt! Writing this was so much fun!! I aged the character up since alcohol and clubbing was involved. Enjoy :P

Warnings include: possessiveness, jealousy, toxic behavior, dubcon because reader is under the influence of alcohol... I think that's it

---

You had made it!

You had passed all of your exams and survived this hell of a semester. Your friends from college decided to celebrate your collective accomplishments by going out for the night to one of the clubs downtown.

There was just one problem, and that problem happened to be your boyfriend. You knew he wouldn't be thrilled about your plans.

But you were an honest person, and you didn't want any secrets between the two of you. So, you tried to mention it casually. You weren’t planning on asking for permission, though; you refused to.

He reacted as expected.

"No," he said in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"But -"

"No," he repeated firmly, and you fell silent. "You’re not going anywhere. Understood? Don’t even try to argue with me.”

That was the end of the discussion. (If you could even call your exchange of phrases a ‘discussion’.)

The thing was: You were someone who refused to let your boyfriend dictate the way you lived your life. You were old enough to make your own decisions, and if you wanted to spend an evening with some alcohol, music, and friends, that was your God-given right. He had no say in the matter whatsoever.

The club your friends had chosen was disreputable; the smell of weed, perfume, alcohol, sweat and cigarettes was in the air. It was loud enough that you couldn't have a conversation without yelling.

After the second Long Island Ice Tea (the mix of gin, vodka, tequila, rum, and triple sec was wicked, who had even come up with this?), you were already tipsy.

One guy from your friend group ordered you drink after drink. A Negroni, a Sazerac, a Caribou Lou.

"What grade did you get on your final report?" he asked, and you were drunk enough that it took you a moment to understand him.

"A B-minus," you said with a grin. A B-minus in this class was practically an A-plus. Your professor was a choleric, stern old man with impossible demands. More than 70% of the class had failed.

You weren't stupid. You knew your fellow student had his eye on you, even though he knew you were in a relationship. As long as he kept his hands to himself, you saw no reason as to why that should have been an issue.

The evening took its course, and as you went to the bar to order another cocktail, you felt someone's gaze rest on you.

You glanced around, squinting your eyes (your surroundings were a bit blurry, and this place was dimly lit), but couldn't spot anyone suspicious.

(What you were unaware of, however, was a certain someone sitting not far from you. Someone who had noticed you and had been watching you talk to the boy from your friend group. That someone was one of Miles' friends, and he had taken a snap of you and sent it to your boyfriend, the caption being: u lettin ur girl go to a club n flirt w other guys?? shame on u)

The club was packed, and the dance floor was a chaotic mess of people who, as the night progressed and alcohol flowed, abandoned all sense of decorum and engaged in explicit behavior right there on the dance floor.

Well.

New York nightclubs. That's just the way they were.

As it had gotten quite late, you opted to call an uber and make your way back home. The evening had been enjoyable, filled with plenty of dancing, drinking, and fun moments shared with your friends.

Inhaling the cold night air was a welcome change after you had spent numerous hours in the cramped and stuffy club.

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

After being subjected to the bass and pulsating rhythm of the music for several hours, your ears were left ringing. Your temporary deafness combined with the alcohol in your blood slowed your thinking, and it took you a moment to realize who had grabbed you by the arm and was standing in front of you.

"Miles!" you exclaimed joyfully, wrapping your arms around his neck in a playful embrace.

Damn. You were slurring.

"How much did you drink?" he asked, and even through the fog of delirium you could make out the angry tone of his voice. But there was something else you noticed - concern.

"Not much," you said, but the words lost their credibility as you were having difficulties pronouncing them. "I've only had a few cocktails. A few many." You giggled.

Had you been sober, you would have felt the rage and animosity emanating from him. His eyes reflected cold anger, his jaw was clenched, and his hands were fists.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he snapped at you. "You know what, forget it. You’re not in the right state to have a normal conversation anyway." With a firm grip on your upper arm, he dragged you to his car that was parked on the side of the road.

"Hey, slow down -" But he had already pushed you into the passenger’s seat.

Everything was spinning. You blinked a few times, realizing too late that Miles had already taken off, speeding through the streets of New York at an alarming rate.

"I called an uber," you mumbled.

"Fuck your uber," he cursed. "Do I need to put a fucking collar on you? I can't believe you'd pull such a stupid stunt."

"Whaddaya talkin' 'bout?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you're an insolent little brat," he spat. You had never heard him sound so angry before. His tone sobered you up a little.

He was a hot-tempered person, but his anger was usually not the loud kind; it was rather cold, quiet, and frightening. The fact that he became so coarse and rude now could only mean one thing: He was really pissed.

"Insolent brat? Cuz I was havin' some fun?"

"I'm sure you were having plenty of fun with that guy, mi amor. Just wait till we're home."

Was that a threat?

"You're being overly dramatic. 's not like I broke the law."

"Going against my orders is worse than breaking the law."

"Orders?” You snorted. “I ain’t taking orders from no one.”

He didn’t reply, and his silence was worse than anything else.

“I get the feeling you're mad at me,” you said.

He laughed, but it sounded disdainful. "Oh, you ain't got no clue just how fucking mad I am at you."

He was oddly composed, but he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that you felt fear rise in the pits of your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you said, but he just scoffed.

"Keep your halfhearted apologies to yourself."

Due to a sudden red light, he abruptly slammed on the brakes, causing you to grasp onto the dashboard for stability. "You're driving like a maniac, asshole."

"All the booze be making you too bold." He gave you a cold sideways glance. "Know your place. And don’t call me asshole.”

"I know where my place is." You lifted your chin defiantly. "I won’t let a man decide what I can and can’t say.”

The car came to a stop. "Get out," he instructed, and to your surprise, you realized that you had already arrived home. He must have really raced through the streets like a lunatic.

Once you were in the kitchen, he made you drink a whole glass of water and eat some crackers.

"You smell like weed and alcohol," he complained.

You set down the glass of water. "I just don’t get what you’re so upset about. You know I would never cheat on you."

“That’s not what I’m worried about. You don’t understand what goes on in a man’s mind when he sees you. I mean, look at you.” He almost growled.

You glanced down, but still didn’t understand – your outfit was relatively innocuous, at least compared to others.

“Do you have any idea what kind of guys hang out in clubs like that?”

“How did you even know I was there?”

He pressed his lips together.

You narrowed your eyes, and suddenly everything made sense.

“One of your friends was there, right?” You shook your head. “I felt someone staring at me the entire time.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to learn how to listen.”

He grabbed your chin. "I don't want others staring at you."

"You can't lock me up."

"No. But I can make you pay for your disobedience.”

"Oh yeah? How so?" you asked with feigned innocence. You enjoyed making him mad; you loved it when he showed his jealous side that made you feel wanted and special.

"On your knees."

You couldn't help but grin. "And if I refuse?"

"You can either do it yourself, or I'll make you."

Oh, fucking hell.

It was demeaning in a way, but somehow submitting yourself to him had its appeal, too.

"I guess you'll have to make me."

"You're really insufferable today, you know that?"

He grabbed your hips, lifted you up and carried you into the bedroom.

"Miles, put me down -"

"You're in no position to make demands."

He threw you on the bed and you half-heartedly tried to push him away, but deep down you didn't want him to stop.

What you wanted was for him to fuck you until you forgot your name. You had sobered up a bit by now, and could appreciate the angry gleam in his eyes. He had that hungry look, like a wild animal that had to control itself to not devour you.

He pinned your wrists above your head and kissed you with such fervor that you forgot to breathe for a moment. His grip was rough and way too tight, but it felt good; way too good.

"Who owns you?" His voice was a low whisper against your lips.

"No one," was your answer, because you wanted to agitate him even more.

One of his hands wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the threat was there.

"Who owns you?"

"You," you said, "you alone."

He gave a sigh of contentment. "Was that so hard?"

"Can you touch me?"

The rough way he had handled you, the way he had kissed you – you wanted more of that.

He thought for a moment, then said, "No. You were petulant and defiant tonight. This is your punishment." He let go of you, and immediately you felt the loss of his touch.

"You're really mean."

"And you're drunk off your ass. We'll talk again when you're sober."

Then he disappeared, leaving you a frustrated mess.

Asshole.

You’d make sure to turn him on and leave him dissatisfied next time, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.

#miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #prowler miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader

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arise-if · 4 months

Text

“Arise, take form this new era!”

These are the first words uttered of the fourth age of this world and its influence has been felt in the blondwood galleries of the moneyed to the silver bows of the flightships which now traverse the near sky and yet when the academy first laid eyes on the object of this change they had but one warning.

But that is not your story and that is not your time, play as a homunculi child of the fourth age of alchemy and discover a world bustling with the excitement and the tragedy of new frontiers; play as the child of the partyboy former Cavalry Captain of the 13th Company and Champion Equestrian who has spared no expense in raising you, explore both the gleaming towers and hidden underbelly of Candar, the familiar glades and slopes of your homeland and the striking landscapes of far away lands, dedicate yourself to your studies or aspire to a life beyond the grip of polite society.

The currency of this era is the much prized splinters of newsilver which have enabled so much of its progress and advancement, from the miracle of flight to the industrialisation of the Great Nations and even feats we call foul heresy but even this resource will not last forever. All the world now looks towards the next great find, towards whomever shall herald the fifth age.

That is your story.

Play as male, female or non-binary with options to be straight, gay, asexual or not pursue a romance at all.

Define your player character's demeanour, appearance, personality, history and skills — etiquette, riding, alchemy, artificing, bargaining and much more.

Choose the subject of your 5th year academic theory report and go out into the world to gather data in the field — by underhanded means or otherwise.

Explore the unique landscape and phenomena that proliferate across the land.

Court and pursue various romance options from the brave lancer-in-training, the untalkative classmate, your adroit childhood mate, the ambitious assistant or the unfamiliar guide.

Live in the vast world of Candar which is currently defined by the central discovery of the fourth age of alchemy — newsilver, the rare resource containing the energy which fuels all progress in Candar.

Enjoy this story which is an affectionate ode to my favourite childhood books and stories combining aspects of historical fantasy, steampunk and grimbright lore.

Cade/Cadena Fairfax, C

(m/f, 22) The Lancer-in-Training who also attends your school, the child of the now discredited and proscribed Commander of the Librarian Knights of Gallopavia. Despite this fact they remain boarded at Gallo, their aspirations still intact though know they hope to find the truth or bring their father to justice.

A halfling (human).

Petr/Petra Guy, P

(m/f, 21) The Apprentice to the Lord Artificer of Gallopavia, your childhood best friend has changed much in the years since you last saw them. Perhaps the gruelling work as an apprentice or the weight of their gratitude has pushed them forward but you can't help but notice the youthful spark in their eyes has been replaced by determination.

A halfling (human) of some indeterminate heritage.

Jacquelin/Jacqueline Attica, J

(m/f, 22)

An Archivist of the Grand Alchemical Library and fellow 5th year student at Gallo Academy widely regarded as a prodigy and future professor at least, known to perform their tasks in total silence efficiently if it weren't for their cold demeanour and standoffish personality they'd quickly rise through the ranks of society. However when pushed they make no secret of their feelings about their peers, useless.

A sylph of some halfling (human) heritage.

Euer Ffsonye, E

(m/f, 29) The Assistant Professor of Flight at Gallo Academy, the much lauded junior newsilver researcher has quickly adapted to the position of educator easily stepping into the dangerous politics of alchemy and invention without so much as a stumble. But amongst the disgruntled who they've surpassed and outrank, they ask: what is it they're really gunning for?

An halfling (human) of some aelfe heritage.

Nate/Nata Bors-Sutr, N

(m/f, 19) The Flightship Navigator from the Free States who your father hired to act as your guide, over the years they've acquired enough practical skills to get by and earn their keep and as someone accustomed to the dark corners and avenues of this land beyond the prying eyes of the authorities they know how to find the things that others can't see.

A slyvan of some halfling (human) heritage.

Candar

The fourth age of alchemy will end with man weeping at the denouement, the tragedy of its conclusion is already known yet we can do nothing to fight against it.

Candar is the known world, its are people spread across many nations, banners and beliefs for which they regularly live and fight.

It is currently in the fourth age of alchemy defined primarily by the substance newsilver — the absolute focus of all industrial, alchemical and scientific progress which has rapidly changed the lives of the humanoids which inhabit this world drawing everyone towards it's bustling cities, enabling faster travel via its flightships, dangerous work from it's factories and bloodier wars from the newmuskets they have produced.

Candar remains filled with undiscovered and unexplored corners in which magical meetings still happen but the world is less fantastical, its uncharted territories are darker, further and yet more accessible than they ever have been.

Demo: unreleased (WIP)

References: unreleased (WIP)

Ko-fi: unreleased

Other projects: GGGLU (check it out!)

#arise #arise-if #status: no demo #dashingdon #choicescript #interactive fiction #genre: fantasy #genre: steampunk

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changes · 9 months

Text

Tuesday, August 8th, 2023

🌟 New

On web, the keyboard shortcuts reference guide is now accessed through the keyboard icon floating in the bottom-right corner of the page. This replaces the “Keyboard shortcuts” item in the Account menu.

On web, we’ve added the current Color Palette selection setting as a dropdown in the Dashboard Settings page. You can still use the Shift + P shortcut to change palettes everywhere.

Also on web, if you’re seeing the experimental vertical navigation layout, we’ve removed the Settings sub-menu items in the left sidebar. The Settings nav item now takes you to Account Settings, with the other different setting pages on the right sidebar.

🛠 Fixed

In the post editor on web, we’ve adjusted the spacing around the floating content block icons to fit better on smaller screens and not overlap the placeholder text.

Over the weekend some users couldn’t access their Following or For You feeds, we resolved the issue after a few hours of investigation, and the feeds are loading again.

🚧 Ongoing

We’re still aware that sometimes Spotify embeds are showing a “Not found” error on web, but may work if you try again. We’re still investigating if this is an issue on our side or Spotify’s.

🌱 Upcoming

Nothing to report here today either.

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

#tumblr update

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keystonepublishing · 7 months

Text

The Saga of Hermitcraft on r/Place (1 April 2022 - 4 April 2022)

On the 1st of April 2022, Reddit unveiled a white blank canvas where every user had the ability to place one colored pixel in every 5 minutes. At its height, about 4 million people participated in one of the biggest internet collaborations ever made. The ripple effects reverberated into news reports as far away as Turkey, and the final canvas represents a snapshot of the multiple communities, events, memes, and what was popular around the world at that time.

This is a documentation of the Hermitcraft mural on r/place 2022.

aka.

Remember what I said about my latest ficbind being a distraction? This is what I wanted to be distracted from.

After Reddit's API fiasco of this year and the subsequent controversial event that was r/place 2023, I decided to save as much documentation about the 2022 event as I could. Luckily, I remember how there are already a series of posts by @riacte who documented the progress of the Hermitcraft mural throughout the whole event, from beginning to end. Her blogposts form the bulk of this book (like, 95%!) and I cannot thank her enough for preserving the happenings of the block men mural.

With that said, I quickly realized that someone who's not a Hermitcraft fan - or me if I'm older - might not get the gist of who's who on the mural. The solution? Make several pages dedicated to just listing who's who on the murals! Because of the sheer number of heads, the mural was divided into several pieces for easier labeling. As a bonus, I also threw in another mural nearby which was connected enough to the Hermitcraft community.

For consistency's sake and preserving focus, I decided to not label the peeps from Dream SMP or the MCC secondary mural. Wrangling Microsoft Word to create an infographic was hard enough, let alone 3! If I inadvertently left out a few bits of extra context from this decision, mea culpa.

When it came to typesetting the entire text block, I decided to make some consistent rules. Titles denoting each day or stage of the mural are on their own pages. New sections are titled using the Bahnschrift font and colored blue, while the first paragraph has their beginning lines look Minecraft-coded and topped with a drop cap (aka. those super-large alphabets).

The names of Hermitcraft and Minecraft players in general are bolded when they first appear in the text. Afterwards, they are bolded if they are contextually important to what's being said.

Extra context would be placed in the footnotes section at the bottom of the page. This is also where I dump some background information that would be invaluable for any readers who aren't Minecraft fans, which is why the SpaceX page looked like... uh, that.

My image policy is to go with the flow; I used as many images from riacte's posts as possible, but I also added-in some of my own if more context is needed. Placing them to look smooth with the text was harder - some are small enough to not cause any problems, others are large enough to fill entire pages without any problems, but a few like the Dream SMP mural (hey there! I managed to put you in!) are too wonky to fit perfectly without leaving no empty spaces.

So in that mural's case, I placed them to the side and let the contextual text flow around it. This principle was also used for the Dota2 / Love Live images and in a few other places throughout the book. The biggest case of this are the few images that are just too wide.

Like this one.

Making double-page spreads is not the easiest thing to do in Microsoft Word, and there are a few r/place images that are too wide to fit perfectly in a single page. Confining them to one page would also mean losing all their details, so making them a double-page spread was necessary.

Didn't make it easy though, especially when there are paragraphs of text and other images that needed to be shuffled around. Mess up the double-page images, and they won't meet in the middle. Mess up the text and other pics? There goes the layout and overall flow!

In the end, making this book took a lot longer than I expected, but I am still grateful to have made this as I have now read through many posts from Tumblr, Reddit, and even Youtube - people expressing joy that they have collectively made something together. I can only hope I have made some justice to them by compiling their work and (even if a small sliver) preserving their testaments.

May this r/place be remembered.

#r/place #rplace #Hermitcraft #reddit #MCYT #rplace 2022 #r/place 2022 #bookbinding #fanbinding #documentation #my bookbinds #hermitblr

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candyflossfairy · 1 year

Text

𝑚𝑟. 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 (𝑒.𝑚. 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: Dad!Eddie x Teacher!Reader. It's that time of year for parent-teacher conferences, and you finally meet Ronnie's father, Mr. Munson.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 18+ only, unprotected sex (p in v), slight choking, Jacobs Ladder piercings.

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 3.7k

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠: Eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple . My work for @newlips milestone of love!

Your first year of teaching was going by pretty well. The students were sweet, fun, and for the most part, they listened. Of course, sitting in a classroom all day was tough work for second graders, they got a little restless after lunch. You didn’t mind it, though. There was a lot of gift giving that made it all better. Notes, drawings, coloring book pages, apples, even one gave you a glass apple with the words World’s Best Teacher! on it that you kept on your desk. It was sweet, really. All of them were, in their own ways.

Even the ones that acted out more than others.

Like Lucy Carver who had a knack for acting like a princess and bribing others with lunch money to do classwork for her.

Or her step-brother, Ronnie Munson, who would pick on his sister relentlessly and talk loudly in class for attention. You knew it was for attention, because you saw who picked up Lucy every day and who picked up Ronnie. He was missing out on some motherly love. You hated Chrissy Carver for that. There were days when she did pick him up, but most of the time it was Mr. Munson, or Wayne Munson, Ronnie’s great uncle that would pick him up.

You hugged Ronnie a little tighter than the other kids. You made sure he did his classwork and helped him when he needed it because of it. Not to say you had a favorite, you just knew which kids needed an extra push. It was sad that at such a young age he felt like he wasn’t getting enough love from his mother, even if he didn’t know that’s what he was feeling.

He was a cute kid, too. Looked like a carbon copy of his dad—dark curls and chocolate eyes. It was better that way, you thought. When he was older he wouldn’t look in the mirror and see his mom staring back at him.

It was parent-teacher conference day. You were nervous for your first one, but your colleagues assured you that there wasn’t much to be nervous about. Some parents were dicks when it came to their child’s grades, but for the most part it was manageable. Plus you got a better insight on what parents helped their kids at home, and which ones left them to their devices.

“Lucy is doing great as far as her social skills. She’s developing them very well. She also has a talent for math—on the days she decides to do it.” You explained to Mr. and Mrs. Carver, “I think a little more encouragement from the two of you and she will be on top of her schoolwork more.”

“So you’re saying it’s our fault?” Mr. Carver spat.

“Jason—” Mrs. Carver chastised.

“I’m not saying that at all, Mr. Carver.” You said calmly, giving him a smile, “But I do think restricting the amount of money you give to your child will keep her from paying others to do her schoolwork for her. She’s a very smart girl when she applies herself.” You continued.

“Thank you very much for your time. We will keep that in mind.” Mrs. Carver said, as they stood up. She picked up the progress report and the two of them stepped outside.

You sighed, pressing a hand to your face.

“I feel that way after interacting with them too,”

You shot up straight, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“No, really, they can be pretty awful.” Mr. Munson stepped inside, shutting the classroom door behind him.

“Is… Mrs. Carver not joining us?” You asked, clearing your throat as you shuffled your papers before looking for Ronnie’s.

“Chrissy? Nah, she tries to forget that we both exist as much as she can.” Mr. Munson told you with a playful grin, as he grabbed a chair on the other side of your desk. He turned it around before sitting in it backwards, his legs spread widely and his crotch on display from the wide hole in the back of it.

You kept your eyes on his face, even though it was in your peripheral. Mr. Munson was attractive, covered in tattoos, a labret piercing above his chin, one in his eyebrow. He also had muscles that strained against his shirt from many days working at the mechanic shop in town. You hadn’t been there since you’d moved to Hawkins, but you did know he worked there.

Single mom’s talked about him quite often. He had a little bit of a reputation for fixing problems that they’d had.

Not to mention, he was a bit older than you — not by that much. He was in his late 20s, you were in your mid, it wasn’t bad.

You didn’t know why you were thinking about this. You were having a parent-teacher conference about his son. It had nothing to do with the fact that you hadn’t had sex since you’d moved here. It didn’t have to do with the fact that Mr. Munson was too sexy for his own good.

You swallowed, and looked down at Ronnie’s progress report.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You responded.

“Nah, no biggie. I’m more upset for Ronnie’s sake than my own. She’s been a bitch since she married Carver.” He shrugged.

You snorted a chuckle at that, trying to hide it. You’d seen how snooty she was, too. You couldn’t imagine her ever being any other way.

“It’s true. She used to be a sweet little thing. Loved me and our boy. Carver’s…persuasive. I’m just glad we split up before Ronnie could remember much. He doesn’t remember her like that. I think it makes it hurt less — sorry, didn’t mean to like — spill on you. Anyways, how’s Ronnie doing in class?”

You swallowed back your thoughts. So, you’d been right. Mrs. Carver didn’t care for her son much.

“He needs a little extra pushing from me from time to time. He does like to aggravate Lucy and awful lot and cause disruptions, but he’s been getting better since the school year first started.” You started off, looking over his progress report. You highlighted a few grades and slid the paper over to Mr. Munson.

“These zeros are homework assignments he never turned in. It’s not particularly hurting his overall grade, but if you can get him to do them, I’ll give him seventy-five percent credit for them. I know single parenting is much harder than it looks on the outside, so I’m willing to work with you, and him, to make sure he’s able to move up next year.” You smiled at him kindly.

“We appreciate that.” Mr. Munson nodded, looking at the report, “These aren’t hard assignments either, huh? I guess they just got lost in the fray of things.” He laughed, before his eyes flicked to you, “Though, it’ll be a shame that I don’t get to see your smiling face every morning after he moves up.”

Your cheeks flared pink at that, and you brushed some hair behind your ear. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not, but… God, you hoped he was.

“Well, I’ll still be here next year… so there’s no shame in dropping by to see me.” You smiled at him, folding your hands on your desk.

“No? Wouldn’t be weird if I… came by and saw you without my kid?” He asked, grinning back.

“Definitely not.” You hummed.

Mr. Munson looked at the time, before standing. “Our time slot is up.” He mused, turning the chair back around the right way.

You bit your lip, before standing. “My last one ends at eight.” You said quickly.

“Oh? Did you…want me to come back?” His brows lifted.

You nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harrington. Goodnight.” You shut your door after your final meeting and bellowed a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you leaned back against the door. It had been a long day, and for the most part people hadn’t been awful, but there had been a select few who had been awful.

There was a soft knock on your door, and you opened it back up.

“Oh, Mr. Munson —” You had forgotten, so wrapped up in everything, you had forgotten he was going to come back. Your cheeks flushed again and you stepped aside to let him into your classroom.

He kicked the door shut behind him, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Did you not expect me to come back?” He asked, grinning a bit.

“No—it’s not that.” You laughed, “I just. You know.” You shrugged. “I’m glad you’re back.” You rubbed your arm nervously.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, stepping closer to you, “And why’s that?”

You were almost nose to nose with him. You could feel his breath fanning over your skin. You swallowed, thickly.

“Mr. Munson—”

“You can call me Eddie.” He cut you off.

“Eddie—” You started, “Is Ronnie taken care of for the night?” You had to make sure.

“Took him to his great uncle Wayne’s. He loves it over there. He’s set.” He gently lifted a hand and brushed some of your hair back.

You wet your lips, and his eyes flicked down to them.

“Why don’t we go back to my place?” He suggested, his hand gently resting on your jaw. He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip and you couldn’t ignore the warmth that flooded between your legs at that.

You nodded, numbly, and turned to gather your things. He watched you from afar as you placed all of your paperwork into a binder and shoved it, and your laptop, haphazardly into your school bag.

“Wanna meet me there, or ride with me?” He asked, winking at you.

“Either is fine.” You cleared your throat.

“You like motorcycles?” He chuckled. You raised your brows before nodding.

Fuck, that was hot. He had a motorcycle? He should just breed you now.

You let that thought wash over you as you followed him out of the school, stopping only to put your bag into your car before swallowing thickly as Eddie handed you a helmet.

“Safety first.” He winked at you, pulling his long hair up into a bun at the base of his neck. You tried to not think to hard about him putting his hair up to eat you out, but it wasn’t easy to ignore.

You slipped the helmet on and clipped it into place. He straddled the motorcycle.

“Alright, throw your leg over like I did and hold on tight.” He grinned at you.

“What happened to ‘safety first’?” You asked, raising a brow at the fact that he didn’t have a helmet on.

“For you, sweetheart. Not for me. I like to live dangerously.” He laughed loudly.

You shook your head in amusement as you took his hand, throwing your leg over the back of the bike. Surprisingly, you didn’t fall on your face or stumble, and settled into the seat behind him.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and held on tight.

He was warm, body toned. You couldn’t wait to see what it looked like naked.

He turned on the bike and kicked up the kickstand, revving the engine a few times before he took off out of the parking lot.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in you as he raced down the street. It had been a while since you’d done anything fun. Moving to Hawkins had been a bit of a poison to your social life — sure, you had the other teachers at Hawkins Elementary, but most of them were much older than you and had lived there their entire lives.

He pulled up to the only apartment complex in Hawkins; a newer building you had been told. They looked fairly nice from the outside, and you couldn’t wait to see the inside.

Eddie pulled into a parking spot and kicked the stand back down, shutting the bike off.

He helped you off of the bike and tilted his head towards the stairs in front of you. “Just up those.” He told you.

You followed him up to the second floor and he unlocked the door first door you came to, letting you in.

“Home sweet home. It’s not much, but it’s ours.” Eddie smiled, shrugging his jacket off. He hung it on a chair in the small dining area and stepped into the kitchen.

“You like beer?” He asked.

“Yeah, a beer would be nice.” You nodded as you looked around.

The front area was a decent sized living room, connected to the small dining room that held a small round table with four chairs. The kitchen was connected to that. There was a short hallway right in front of you. You had to assume the bathroom and bedrooms were back that way.

“Here,” Eddie handed you the beer, popping his open before sitting on the couch. “Make yourself comfy.” He said, propping his boots on the edge of a beat up coffee table.

You followed his suit, sitting next to him on the couch. You crossed one leg over the other, popping your beer open.

You took a sip. It was cheap, but it would take the edge off of whatever nerves you were feeling.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just quietly sipping from your beers. It wasn’t awkward persae, it was just… different? You both knew what you were here for, so you weren’t sure why he was playing worlds best host.

You just wanted him to fuck you already.

You downed your beer in the next second, placing it on the coffee table.

“Woah, want another one?” Eddie asked.

“No,” You said, and feeling a spur of confidence, you uncrossed your legs and threw one over his lap, straddling his legs.

He smirked up at you, letting his legs fall from the coffee table.

“Hi,” He said, learning around you to put his beer down.

“Hi,” You responded, smiling down at him.

His hands gently rested on your waist, pinkies on each side pushing up your shirt to feel your skin.

You reached forward, and brushed his hair off of his shoulder.

“Kissing, or no?” You asked, your voice a soft whisper.

“Why wouldn’t I want kissing?” He chuckled.

You shrugged. “Some guys think it’s too intimate.”

His brow furrowed. “Sex is intimate.” He laughed.

You shared a smile with him before leaning in to kiss him. His lips were softer than you had expected, the stubble on his lip scratching your skin softly. You didn’t mind it, really. He was…so fucking hot.

He nipped your lip softly, and you parted them for him, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth. He tasted like beer, and cigarettes. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought. However, maybe it was because it was him.

You brushed the thoughts from your mind, biting at his bottom lip, your teeth lightly clanking against the piercing there.

Tattooed hands pushed up the sides of your shirt, fingers squeezing your sides, pinkies slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You could feel them toying with the edge of your underwear, too.

You broke the kiss for a breath, panting softly as his mouth made its way to your neck.

“No hickies.” You said quickly, “I don’t need the kids asking questions.”

Eddie chuckled against your skin.

“Bedroom?” He asked, nipping softly at your pulsepoint.

You nodded; and up you went. He had lifted you like you were nothing and he carried you down the hallway. He dropped you on the bed and pulled his shirt off, displaying more tattooed skin. He climbed onto the bed, pressing a knee between your legs as his hand cupped the top of your head, his elbow resting near your shoulder as he kissed you, his entire body covering yours.

You moaned into his mouth as his knee rubbed against your mound. You reached between you to press your hand against his half-hard cock in his jeans. He responded with a soft groan.

You stayed like that for a long while, teasing each other, him with his knee and you with your hand, your lips never leaving one anothers.

It had almost became a game. See who would last the longest before they asked to go further.

You were losing. Your hips were guiding themselves up against your will, rubbing your clothed pussy against his thigh. You weren’t getting much friction from this, but what you were getting was making you soaking wet.

You popped the button of his jeans open, and reached past his boxers as a concession. He had won.

You gasped at what you felt in his pants, breaking the kiss.

“What?” He asked, his voice deep and husky as he continued to rub his knee against you.

“You’re—”

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss at your neck again.

He hooked his fingers in your shirt and you lifted up to let him pull it off, still a little in shock at what you felt.

His hands were then working at your pants, unzipping them and dragging them, and your panties off in one fell swoop.

His pants were next to go, and you were both naked, but—

Your eyes met his cock. It was large, the tip red and wet with precum… Your fingers gently brushed across the bottom of the shaft. Nestled there in a row were five bars. He had his cock pierced.

You swallowed thickly, wondering what it felt like for those piercings to be inside you. Especially with how big he was.

“Doesn’t hurt — at least no one’s complained.” He chuckled, “And it’s been fully healed for a few years, so nothing to worry about on my end.”

“You did them all at the same time?” You asked, a little shocked.

“Yeah, hurt like hell. But looks fuckin’ hot, don’t it?” He grinned.

You nodded.

He grasped himself in his hand and slapped it against your pussy, making your insides clench tightly. With his other hand he spread your lips and started tapping again, this time against your clit. Your legs jolted softly with each tap, your lips parted in a soft moan.

“Damn, you’re so fuckin’ wet.” He sighed, rubbing his cock against you. “You on the pill?”

“Yeah,” You nodded.

“Good.”

Neither one of you needed for you to get pregnant right now. That was unsaid between you.

He tapped your pussy a few more times, before lining himself up and pushing in.

Your back arched, a low moan leaving you. Your eyes fluttered and your head tipped back.

“That’s it… that’a’girl…take it.” He sighed into the warm air between you.

“Fuck, Mr. Munson..” You moaned.

He laughed softly. “You like callin’ me that? Alright, honey. We can pretend I’m a lot older than you. Bet you flick that pretty little clit of yours at home thinkin’ bout me and the other dads, hm?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you nodded. There was just something so fucking hot about fathers to you. You wanted to have someone like that in your life. Someone to raise kids with you.

“Say it.” He grunted, as he pressed fully into you.

“Ah—! I touch myself thinking about you!” You gasped, your legs circling tightly around his waist.

That’s not how he wanted it, though. He grabbed you tightly by your thighs and wrenched your legs up until they were on his shoulders. He scooted closer to you so that your hips were angled up.

Now, now he was impossibly deeper.

You moaned helplessly, grasping at the sheets.

“You got a pretty little cunt here for me. Soaking wet and tight, mmm…” He sighed, pulling out and thrusting back in.

He found a medium pace that you both seemed to like for now, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing.

“You like being choked, baby?” He asked breathily, his free hand brushing up your chest.

You nodded, your lips parted. You couldn’t make words come out right now, you were fucking gone.

His fingers circled around your throat, fingers pressing into your pulse point. Your back arched higher, your head tipping back as you moaned out.

“Fuck, you’re a sweet little thing..” He groaned, speeding up his pace.

“Mr. Munson—!” You whined out, his cock pressing over and over into that spongey spot inside of you.

“Yeah, baby. Say it.” He chuckled.

There was something so inherently dirty about this, even though it was all legal. It was probably because you taught his son at school, really. You couldn’t think about it now, not with his cock pressing into your gspot, and his piercings rubbing up against your walls with every thrust.

“Mr. Munson!” You moaned out again, your hips lifting higher with every thrust.

You could feel your orgasm growing, the heat in your belly getting hotter and hotter until the rubber band snapped, your cunt clamping down on his cock and spasming as you cried out helplessly.

He released your throat, his thrusts never stopping. He groaned, and a few moments later he was pulling out and spilling his seed on your belly.

You were both panting heavily as he dropped onto the bed next to you.

You laid there in silence for a long while, your insides burning from overuse. It had been a while since you’d been fucked, especially by such a thick cock.

Fuck if you didn’t feel good, though.

“Here,” Eddie said, leaning over to grab you a few tissues.

“Thanks.” You hummed, sitting up slightly to clean the cum off of your belly. You tossed them into the trashcan nearby as Eddie stepped across the hallway into what you now knew was the bathroom.

You waited for him to finish cleaning up before you went in yourself, relieving your bladder and cleaning up.

When you came back into the room, Eddie had laid out a shirt for you on the bed.

“You can stay over. Wayne is supposed to take Ronnie to school, so he shouldn’t be here in the morning.” He said, smiling.

You nodded, pulling his shirt on before climbing into the bed.

Eddie flicked off the lights before climbing in after you, his arm wrapping around you waist. He pulled you close, your back flush against his chest.

You felt safe that night, and got the best rest you’d had since you moved to Hawkins.

The next morning you were awoken by the front door slamming loudly.

“Daddy!”

Oh, shit.

#newlipsmilestoneoflove #eddie munson x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fanfic #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #reader x eddie munson fanfic #reader x eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #you x eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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bonefall · 3 months

Note

What do you think about the sneak peek of Wind? I saw Breezepelt acting somewhere between "little shit" and "actually concerned" and I lost it he owns my heart

I took a while to distance myself a bit from the preview because I REALLY didn't like it when I first read it. And now after taking some time to think about it, I know for sure that I honestly, truly do not like it or the direction the arc is going in.

This is book 5 and it feels like they've barely made any progress on the character arcs, how are they going to wrap them up in 1 more book? It looks like they're doing the worst possible thing with the Nightsun pairing, playing it without any problems. They've made a bunch of characters guzzle stupid juice so Splashtail could take power. It even seems like they SPITEFULLY wrote the whole society of the Clans turning on Frostpaw for doing a confrontation without the Updated Autopsy Report prepared, because for some reason all of these cats are little lawyers when it comes to moving the plot along

And for fuck's sake! What's the POINT of these super special sacred pilgrimages they send cats on if they're NEVER believed when they come home? This isn't even the first time that we've wasted an entire book on a StarClan Quest for a revelation that could have taken a single chapter. And now we're going to get an agonizing book of filler arguments to convince the Clans that Frostpaw wasn't lying about someone she has no motive to lie about otherwise

(The "motive" that Splashtail suggests is that she, child, is actually delusional about romantic interest in him, adult. She "got the wrong idea" when he got eeextra close to her and was suuuper emotionally invested in her after totally learning Curlfeather was evil when she was whispering her evil plans in her sleep. Im putting this on in the Cringe Compilation next to "A fox scratched Bumble to death after I left and came back 3 times")

They've suddenly introduced a theme OUT OF NOWHERE about how Curlfeather and Splashtail hate god, replying to the previous arc that says "StarClan makes mistakes" with "ATHEISTS BAD!"

I feel like Breezepelt is the carrot I was offered by a granny holding a knife behind her back. Save me Breezepelt. Breezy-P save me

#This is like. Catastrophically bad to me #God I still really feel like this arc started off so strong too u_u #At least breeze is cute though I do have a little nitpick with his cameo too #But it's a nitpick #These things I mentioned are large problems in my eyes #Asc spoilers

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i4bellingham · 1 year

Text

MORE THAN JUST AN INTERLUDE: pedri x reader

SYNOPSIS: in which a relationship thought to be a fleeting moment lasted for more than they'll ever know.

CONTENT: incorporated with a slight social media au! + obsessive hateful fan speaking shit. conversations are in (google translated) spanish and english + gavi being an adorable child + innuendos by pedri :’p / also NOT PROOFREAD please don’t sue me. read part two here

pedri

❤️ 💭 ↗️ 　　　　　 • •

Liked by gavi, alejandrobalde and 1,768,923 others

pedri el más feliz contigo. feliz aniversario mi amor. the happiest with you. happy anniversary my love.

tagged: yourusername

View all 13,901 comments

user1 wait what- one year ???? 😧

user2 y'all been together for one year i-

user3 remembering the days where your fans thought this was just a fling 😭 you guys are celebrating one year with each other now congrats 😭❤️

gavi happy anniversary!

fcbarcelona sending love to you and yourusername ❤️

user4 another month now and you'll break up anyways 😐

user5 shut yo stanky ass

user4 let's bffr here besties they're not gonna last ☺️

user6 user4 and this is why your father left you, your mom hates you, you failed school and you're single meanwhile yourusername is here living the absolute best of life 🤷🏻‍♀️

yourusername

❤️ 💭 ↗️ 　　　　　 • •

Liked by jamalmusiala10, neymar, pedri and 195,986 others

yourusername here's to many more small midnight talks about life with you. happy anniversary bebe ❤️

tagged: pedri

View all 4,679 comments

_rl9 never let the haters ruin such a beautiful relationship!

pedri never

gavi the second picture is when you text him and his focus is not with us anymore :/

yourusername i always tell him to stop texting me when he's out with you guys though ☹️

gavi i know, pedri just doesn't listen because he's annoying like that

yourusername say sorry pedri :/

yourfriend1 happiest anniversary to you both! ❤️❤️

pedri i love you

yourusername i love you more

pedri i love you the most

yourusername i love you more than most

pedri i love you so much that no words could ever describe to which extent

alejandrobalde pedri we get it man 😃 (anyways happy anniversary yourusername)

gavi pedri simp (i don't know if i used that word correct)

Pedri was still high on adrenaline when he was whisked away for an interview just after their game.

His football jersey clung onto his skin in an uncomfortable but familiar hug with grimes and sweat all over his body. If people looked closely, they'd find small specks of dirt on his cheeks from the amount of time he tried intercepting a ball pass from the opposing team. He still looked good nonetheless, not that he needed someone to remind him that as he stood carefree in front of the multiple camera shooting his every angle as he waits for the first question to pop up.

“So... what a game huh?” The reporter chucklesㅡ for what reason, Pedri doesn't know but he simply chuckles alongside him. “How do you think of your performance today Pedri? And how do you think that contributed to the win tonight?”

Pedri scratches his nose bridge, then placing both hands over his waist as he takes a lean back to keep the mic near from his lips.

“I think this is one of the best games that I’ve played entering this season. I think that defensively I’ve gotten a lot of progress and it showed in this game tonightㅡ but I believe there is still room for improvement. I think that I had made a few bad calls during the game as well so I’ll definitely look into that as to not make the same mistakes again but overall, I’m pretty satisfied and happy with how my performance played out tonight and contributed to our team’s win.”

The reporter nods his head behind the camera, seemingly impressed at the response he got from one of Barcelona’s golden boys.

“Any celebrations happening tonight for this big win? For another 3 points on the board?”

Pedri smiles but he shakes his head. “No, the guys will get into that but I will be celebrating something else tonight, this is a special day for me and for my girlfriend after all so I just want to spend this night with her.”

“Speaking of girlfriend...” The reporter trails off, flicking through his card with a teasing glint and smile on his face as he follows through with his statement. “It’s your guys’ anniversary today yes? Made quite a lasting impression on Twitter, this one.”

Pedri nods his head, eyes steering away from the media crew momentarily when his eyes catches a familiar figure walking towards them alongside Gavi.

“Yes, it's our anniversary today so not only do I get to celebrate the win tonight but I also get to celebrate an entire year of love and happiness with my girlfriend.”

Pedri shoots you a smile when you catch his eyes, mouthing ‘wait for me’ as he tends to his media tasks by finishing off the interview with a few more remarks for the game, team improvements and whatnot before he walks over to you and Gavi in brisk steps when he's finally done.

He's a few mere foot away when you immediately open your arms for a hug, not minding that he's still dirtied up from his previous game, all with the sweat and gunk clinging onto him. Pedri immediately falls down into your embrace, and Gavi takes that chance to slip away when he sees the cameras pointing to you both while still airing live.

You plant a kiss each to his cheeks and nose, leaving more than a swift peck to his lips that he returns gratefully and with glee.

“I’m so proud of you, do you know that?” You tell him as he leans his forehead against yours. “You did so well today baby, I’m very very proud of you.”

Pedri wraps both of his arms around your waist, locking you snug against him as you snake your hands around his shoulders.

“You always tell me that, no?” He leans down to whisper in your ear. “But you can always show how proud you are of me yeah?”

You don’t say anything but you do slap his chest when Gavi comes in barreling through your hug, jumping behind your boyfriend while he's got both hands over Pedri’s shoulders.

“Happy Anniversary to the two of you!”

Pedri shakes the younger one off before moving to walk away, pulling you behind him. “Too loud Gavi.”

“But we won! And it's in your anniversary and you guys should all be loud!”

Pedri smiles tight-lipped, another whisper going through your ears before he's leaning back up as if he never just said something to rouse you up.

“Oh you'll definitely be loud tonight, that's for sure.”

Not only did the media capture you lip-locking live with your boyfriend after his post-game interview, the interaction with Gavi and Pedri’s whispered suggestive comments that left you stunned and bothered definitely made it to the trending topics on Twitter for the next days to come.

#☆ i4bellingham writes #☆ pedri #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri fanfic #pedri fanfiction #pedri imagine #pedri imagines #pedri one shot #pedri one shots #pedri

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msbarrybeeson · 2 months

Text

Before You Go - P.6 | Future Donatello & April O’Neil Insight

(Reader Included)

A/N: Any constructive criticism is appreciated. Reader comments and feedback are also welcomed a lot.

I have been gone for a long time. Just occupied with my studies! No fan fiction author curse or anything (yet).

Summary: You’re both adopting-parents of Casey. The story follows the perspective of Donatello and April O’Neil during the Kraang apocalypse. You and Leonardo decided to ask them to watch over thirteen-year-old Casey.

In other words, familial interactions between April, Donnie, and Casey Jr.

Reader: Gender-neutral pronouns are used, except the terms “(Mom / Dad)” are also used. Second POV.

Pairing: Rise! Future! Leonardo X Reader

Warnings: Bittersweet.

Word Count: ~3490

Parts: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / ...

Donnie knew how much of a genius he was.

It was no surprise after all. In his late teens, he improved NASA’s satellites to communicate with planets light centuries away. He cured breast cancer through the use of protons in radiation therapy to target specific cells, rather than affecting the harmless. Hell, he even managed to discover a new type of radioactive particles: mutons. By that point, he—.

“—should have been given a Nobel Prize in Medicine and in Chemistry.” Donnie cursed under his breath. He strolled over to his lab bench, equipping his goggles.

Squeeeak.

April– who was found seated on Donnie’s roughed-up, spinning gaming chair– raised an eyebrow. Her hair had grown out and was left unbounded. Faint wrinkles and eye bags on her features displayed maturity, in contrast to a couple of years ago. However, everyone was well aware that time was not the only factor.

“Whatcha going on about now, Donnie?”

The softshell huffed. “Recall when I wrote a report about my experimental findings with an invention meant to revive a deceased human being?”

“...You mean the one where you thought it was a good idea to open up Curie’s tomb? Even gone as far as to ask for my help?” April grimaced. “Who’d ever forget that.”

She proceeded to massage her temples.

“God. You were in all kinds of messed up for that, Don.”

Lightning-like yellow sparks flickered as Donnie had his robotic hands occupied with a butane torch. His goggles were sealed tight around his eyes as he built a oval-looking device on his lab bench. Titanium outer-layer over a seriously complex circuit-board; appearing as if Samsung marketed grenades.

He scoffed. “Oh please. It wasn’t as if I’d taken long to understand how Marie Curie deserves her rest for her great contributions to radiation. Thus is why–.”

“–You decided to take a poor random husband of an old wife,” April interjected.

“Ahem.” Donnie pronounced. “The poor woman was begging me for her husband to be alive again. I was simply gracious and generous enough to not charge her for the process.” He set aside the butane torch. “At least it progressed well; he stayed alive for an additional two years. It gave his wife psychological comfort, and I was able to submit my paper to the N.S.F..”

He picked up a screwdriver. “Except....”

April could tell her friend’s eye was twitching.

“They rejected my findings, nearly had me detained, and claimed it was far too ‘unethical.’” Donnie raised his volume. “Scoff! As if those researchers weren’t committing the crime themselves! Taking bodies away from families and claiming them as scientific property without permission.

If I could go back in time and shove my documents in their jaws, you bet I would.”

April smirked. “Well, I have my regrets too, Donnie.”

“You sound rather amused, April. Is that so surprising? And here I never thought you would regret your part-time job at Albearto’s. Or the fact you wasted money to switch to journalism in university.”

WHACK!

April threw her bat at Donnie’s head, flying back to her hand like a boomerang.

“Watch your mouth, mister. I may have regretted Albearto’s, but not a single moment in my life did I ever regret my journalism passion.” She stood up.

“Ouch.” The softshell vocalized, squinting his eyes toward her. His robotic clampers paused, setting aside the torch and taking off his goggles.

“Mind yourself, April. Horse-playing is forbidden in the laboratory. I am not consenting to having yet another silver-titanium apparatus get scratched because of you.” Donnie gritted his teeth. “Can you hear the negative connotation?”

“Seriously, Donnie? Where’d that come from? Not only was that years ago but it ain’t anything except a simple accident.”

“‘Simple accident?’” the softshell repeated with dramatic offense. “An accident, like many others in science labs, which could have caused severe damage! Remember the incident when your teacher dumped bleach and vinegar into the trash bin?

You know, if you had paid any attention in your chemistry class, those two would make mustard gas?” Donnie side-eyed his friend. “Simple accidents can have serious consequences, O’Neil.”

A hand crept up the lab bench.

“Uh-huh, and I’m supposed to believe an instance of me knocking over your phone and books would kill somebody?” April crossed her arms. “If anything, the blame’s yours for not organizing your desk when you got drunk on coffee.”

The hand took ahold of the butane torch.

“Donatello? Disorganized? Sounds cheap coming from you, a student majoring in Journalism.”

April pulled up her coat’s sleeves. “Oh boy, you’re about to get it—.”

Squeeeak!

Heads spun and found a 13-year old boy, replacing April’s spot on Donnie’s chair. Casey eyed the torch with a great yet concerning amount of curiosity.

“Yo, what’s this for, Uncle Don?”

At lightning speed, while April ran to move the gaming chair away further from the workbench, Donnie snatched the tool from his hands. “Child. Casey. Young man.” The softshell heaved loudly. “I must inform you this is NOT meant to be handled with such casual ease. How in Hawking did you even—.”

“Don’t your lab have a passcode or something?”

“–Is what I am wondering myself, O’Neil. I refuse to believe this child remembers the beginning thirty numbers of π–.”

“Nope, only us.” April and Donnie lifted their gazes to his lab entrance. You leaned on the frame while a dear red-eared slider stood just behind. A couple of steps inside, and the metallic lab door shut close.

Donnie– strangely– was quick to hide his device-in-progress off to the side.

“You’re back!” April grinned. “Hell, you would not believe the convo Donnie and I were having a minute ago.” She hurried to hug you.

“Figures,” Leo remarked. “We could practically hear you yards off.”

“Sounds like things never get old.” You smiled.

There was a side-eye between Donnie and April, before the Commander proceeded to inquire, coughing: “Anyhow.. care to explain the occasion? You two don’t seem to be in a hurry.”

“The only times you ever visit my laboratory are to prepare for immediate combat engagement, and you look awfully collected.” The softshell furrowed his brows.

“No, no.” You waved your hands, shaking your head. “Thank God no. We came here to ask if you two could take care of our Casey here while we head out.” The other turtle scrunched his in-quote eyebrows. “You— You came here to request us to... babysit him?”

April jabbed him in his plastron.

“You see? Just like I said.” Leo turned to you. “I know my brother, love. Don’s not the kind of guy to take responsibility for a kid. Or anyone, really.”

“Hold on.” Donnie narrowed his eyes. “I never said I refused, Leo.”

“Don’t know, it sounds like it to me.”

“Well, my misinformed brother, contrary to your belief, I am perfectly capable of handling a child.”

You huffed with amusement. Your husband only winked back.

“If you say so, Don.”

“Where are you two heading off for if you needed us to watch over him?” April inquired. “Wondering, ‘cause this never happened even when you two leave for patrol.”

“Just finding some time for ourselves.”

April exclaimed, “As in a honeymoon? Why not just say so? We’ll leave you two alone–.”

“–In this economy and climate?” Donnie interjected. “Has it also not been six years since your yet-to-be-legal marriage?”

“Alright, alright,” Leonardo chuckled. “Cut us some slack, bro. Finding time wasn’t easy when there’s Kraang above our necks.”

“Right, and you’re going on a honeymoon, how?” The softshell crossed his arms. “Simply because you’re the leader does not equate to you making wise decisions, Leo.”

“His ōdachi can teleport anyone to anyplace, we have some hope we can easily teleport to a remote area,” you answered. “One without Kraang infestation. It’ll be hard, but we may as well try.”

“Bonus points if we find clear skies and an ocean.” The red-eared turtle grinned, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

“What’s a honeymoon, (Mom / Dad)?”

Your hand went to caress Casey’s cheek. “Parent quality time. It just means you get to handle yourself like the responsible grown-up you’ll become one day. Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior around Uncle Don and Auntie April?”

“I promise, (Mom / Dad)!”

“Good boy,” Leo laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“You didn’t ask Mikey and Raph to help out too, or?”

“Between you and me, I think you guys are better of making sure Casey doesn’t get into any chaos,” you whispered to April. “Don’t tell them that, though.”

She laughed. “Okay, I see how it is. You both have fun.”

Donnie bit his lip. Right as Leonardo and (Name) turn to exit the laboratory, he extended his arm out to them.

“Leo, (Name).”

You two faced back to him once more.

“Don’t kill yourselves out there.”

Everyone’s eyes widened– April, you, and Leonardo himself. But the brother in blue snickered, holding a smile that reached his eyes. “So you do also care for me, Don. And all this time I thought you were plotting to put me in my grave or something.”

“We won’t.” Leo placed a hand on your shoulder. “You got my word.”

“Bye (Mom / Dad)! Bye Papa!”

“We’ll be back soon, Casey!”

Donnie stood in silence as you finally left, leaving himself with none other than his best friend and his nephew. “I refuse to believe this is the future we have to deal with.”

“Times changed all of us, didn’t they?” April spoke. “One day we wish each other a good one, and the next, we hope we just don’t die. I could’ve been a famous news anchor by now, make my mother happy, fight crime without worrying about dying the next second.

..I wonder if there’s anyone else out there besides the small number of us down here.”

“..I doubt it.”

Donnie pulled himself together and walked back to his workbench, operating his clampers to work once again. He put on his goggles. Casey, being a young teenager of enthusiasm, peeked over.

“Watch yourself, boy,” April warned.

“Don’t worry about me, Auntie. I’m only standing over here.” Casey narrowed his eyes upon the glowing and metal-like ball his uncle had his tools on. “What are you working on, Uncle Don?”

“A sphere.”

“A sphere?”

“You heard correctly.”

“That sounds kind of boring.”

Donnie had to hold himself back from remarking with: ‘That is exactly what every child whose intellect is doomed would say.’

“I’m sure your mother would find it rather moving.”

“(Mom / Dad)? I don’t understand what’s emotional about a ball, though.”

“Hey Casey.” April coughed. “Why not tell us about your mask here? Haven’t taken a good look at it before. Maybe Uncle Don would like to hear it too.”

“You actually want me to talk about my mask?”

“Ain’t a problem, is it?”

“No.” He fidgeted with his fingers a bit. “You don’t have anything else to do?”

“We were just told to watch over you, kid.”

“Yeah, but everyone I know is always busy with the Kraang or supplying weapons. I never really get chances to hang out.”

There was a brief pause in the butane torch’s flame.

April’s expression softened. Her hand came up to brush his black hair. “Things have gotten calmer up there. So you’ve got plenty of time with us now.”

Casey smiled.

“So your mask?”

The boy alternated between covering his face and removing it. “(Mom / Dad) gave it to me. She told me it is based on the one worn by my biological mother. (Mom / Dad) also said that my birth mother was kind of crazy-funny and likes to be loud. She would have a stick to play– what was it– hockey?

I don’t know what kind of game hockey is supposed to be, but I guess it’s nice to know how life was like before all the Kraang.”

A sad smile crept on April’s lips.

“Anyways, I thought the mask looked kind of plain, so I decided to draw red marks on it. See?” Casey showed his mask off, fingers tapping the surface. “Guess who it looks like!”

There were two bold and thick streaks of red. Each one ran through one eye, truly a defining characteristic. The Commander chuckled, already imagining how much pride her friend in blue would feel from the fact a kid– let alone one he had been parenting– looked up to him so much.

“You know, I am seeing someone familiar here.” April hummed as she put on a thoughtful facade. Fingers holding her chin and everything. “Got to be Uncle Don.”

Named turtle paused for a moment and raised a brow.

“Seriously, Auntie April?” On the other hand, Casey gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “You probably want to get your eyes checked out, ‘cause Uncle Don doesn’t have any red stripes.” Off to the side. “And even if he did, he won’t look as cool as Dad.”

April snickered behind her palm as Donnie eyed the boy from behind his goggles.

“You’re right, you’re right. Just messing with you, kid.” Her hand ruffled his hair once more. “Sounds like you really admire your Papa, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Dad has an awesome sword that opens up portals. He always moves so quickly whenever he’s fighting. Bam! And the Kraang’s gone!” The teenager stretched his arm for emphasis. “Even as the leader, Papa knows when to get serious and when to make people laugh. He also cares a lot about me, (Mom / Dad), you guys, and everyone!”

It made even Donnie himself smile.

However, the way Casey’s enthusiasm died down had not gone unnoticed. “I’ve always wanted to help out though.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I want to fight the Kraang right by his and (Mom / Dad)’s side. Except I barely get the chance to, because they keep telling me to stay close to base and hide behind a giant rock.”

April crossed her arms and went quiet. His feelings were nothing new. In fact, she experienced the same thing herself, seeing she had always been a human. It was like that until–.

“Have no hard feelings,” Donnie spoke up, his hands and eyes remained on his spheric gadget. The sparks were flying. “Your parents are merely worried about your well-being.”

“I know, I know. They won’t have to though, if I can have enough training or something.” Casey sighed. “Then again, I also know I’m only a normal sensitive human.

...Why can’t I be a mutant instead?”

“Ahem. You are classified as a human. That is a true statement and one you cannot change.” Donnie hummed. “However, that does not mean you cannot be strong and capable in other ways.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve been in my place before?”

“Perhaps I did. Did you truly think being a soft-shell turtle is easy? I happened to be born as one of the only Testudines species whose outer shell cannot protect.” Donnie remarked. “Casey, your mask.” His hand signaled.

“What about my mask?”

“I merely want to add something.”

Confused, he hopped off the chair and handed the mask over. “Hmm. As long as you don’t mess with the stripes, Uncle Don.”

“Who says I won’t?”

Casey kicked Donnie’s leg.

“‘Ow,’ I say sarcastically without feeling physical pain.”

“Hmph.” He crossed his arms. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“Such as?”

“You say those action verbs, even when you’re already doing them.”

April snorted. “Just his thing, kid. Uncle Don’s got his special quirks.”

“Do you have a quirk?”

“Picking unnecessary fights for one,” Donnie commented.

“You only call them ‘unnecessary,’ because you never want to fix the problem.”

He rolled his eyes. “My solution would’ve been ten times more efficient if you had allowed my technology and I to do the work.”

Casey wondered. “Does your tech ever go haywire, Uncle Don?”

“No.”

“Oh man,” April began, “you should’ve been there for this one time. Your Uncle Don was building some kind of overprotective bed to keep your late Gramps from waking up from his beauty sleep.”

“Gramps likes to sleep?”

“You’d be surprised to hear that he sure does.”

“Then what happened?”

“Uncle Don asked your Dad, Uncle Mikey, and Uncle Raph to try punching, slicing, throwing whatever they could on the bed. They were attacking it like crazy!”

“And then?”

“And the bed was even more insane, ‘cause there were actual missiles shooting out! They went straight for his brothers. At some point, it got overboard, so Uncle Don tried to command it to stop.”

“I’m hearing a ‘but’ coming.”

“But it malfunctioned and thought Uncle Don was the enemy!”

“However!” Donnie pointed his finger up, interrupting the story-telling. “It did not take long for my creation to recognize his master.”

“Still went haywire in my book,” April remarked.

“Ignoring that.” His robotic hand tapped the edge of his workbench, grabbing Casey’s attention. “Come here, young man.” He slid back the mask, except in his hands, it felt as if the frame had thicken.

“It looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same?”

“Try wearing it over your face.”

The boy did as told. All of a sudden, a bunch of green rectangles and words appeared in his vision. He gasped in awe. He spun around slowly, watching the rectangle focus on a figure through the wall.

“Yes yes, I know. I am well aware of how amazing I am.” Donnie huffed in pride. “I have opted to construct an interface with your mask. I cannot see why you shouldn’t have something to defend yourself with,” he reasoned. “I have other updates in mind later on. As of now, however, your mask will help you detect life forms across other rooms or through other objects.”

“That’s so cool!” The boy hesitated though. “But I don’t want to break it or anything.”

“Hey.” April rested her hand on Casey’s shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. “Our resources are already scarce. Using then losing them is better than nothing. You better make the most of our tech. Understood, soldier?”

Casey grinned underneath his mask. He fixed his posture up and saluted. “Gotcha–! Understood, Commander!”

He faced the inventor, whose hands were already back to being occupied with the “sphere.” “Thanks so much, Uncle Don!” Casey exclaimed, leaping towards the turtle to give a tight hug. “You’re the best!”

Upon contact, Donnie stiffened up, but his lack of experience with physical touch did not prevent a smile forming on his face. He extended a robotic arm, patting Casey’s back.

The boy then scanned around curiously with his mask. “Hey! Think I spot Uncle Mikey and Uncle Raph two floors down! They’re holding hands over a table or something. Why are so many people circling around them?”

April rolled her eyes. “Sounds like another arm-wrestling match between the our youngest and oldest brother.”

Just like that, Casey booked it out of the laboratory so quickly, it reminded her of a certain red-eared slider. “What the–! Casey!” April groaned. “And here I thought we don’t have to deal with runaway kids. I better catch up to him.”

“Would not worry about him too much,” Donnie commented.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Considering we will not always be alive to protect him... the sooner we leave him to himself, the easier it will be for him to survive alone.”

“Hey. Come on now.” April walked to her best friend’s side. “Don’t you say things like that. We’re all going to survive this together–.”

“April.” Slight pain wavered in his voice. “You know as well as I do how our current reality is. It is only a matter of time before the Kraang finds everyone.”

“Yet you’re still here trying.”

No response.

“It’s all because of the kid, isn’t it?” April affirmed. “He ain’t any genius prodigy you were expecting long ago. But he gave you a reason to try– he became someone worth fighting for.”

“I would not put it as simply as that.”

She shrugged. “That’s how I’d say it. You know you’re not the only one whose life changed because of Casey.”

Donnie paused his work, turning off the butane torch and finally pulling his goggles off his eyes again. “...Casey reminds me of when we were young, being rash and immature teenagers like any other. I hate admitting to such thing, but I was one too. And I hate admitting much more how much I missed those times.

The child has known nothing of the trouble we’ve experienced outside, April: when Cassandra was killed, when Draxum was torn apart, when Dad decided to sacrifice himself despite the slim odds.” His hands clenched into fists.

“Do not expect me to have any false hope for our future, but do not assume I would want Casey to feel the same way. For as long as he can, I want him to hold onto that false hope.”

“...” April had her arms crossed. Her eyes slowly came to linger on the workbench. “Is that ‘sphere’ his false hope?”

“..No. Not his.” Donnie traced his thumb over his contraption. “It’s for (Name).”

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