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leatherfaceologist · 2 months ago

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To Feed the Flame

Remmick x Vampire Wife

Part 1 of 2. 18+ only.

Why does Remmick wear a golden band on his wedding finger? How was Remmick turned, so many ages ago, into the immortal beast he's become? Was he alone in his transformation? Love, memory, blood, and lust coalesce in this swamp-set gothic tale.

Themes & Warnings: vampirism, southern gothic, explicit sexual content, blood drinking, telepathy/hivemind, canon typical violence, love, romance, blood kink, worship kink, trauma, slight angst, brief origin story, singing

words: 4,705

notes: Remmick x OC. I poured a lot of love into this, and I hope some of y'all enjoy it. there's smut in this part, and will be even more in part 2. likes, comments, reblogs + any and all feedback is very appreciated! <3

Irish Words: an tine: meaning 'the fire'. Éirinn: Ireland. sidhe: the term for both a mound and a type of supernatural being. bean sidhe: translates as 'fairy woman'; a death omen; the original spelling of 'banshee'. Seaghdha: what is most likely the original name that was then anglicized into 'Shaylene'.

part 2 coming soon.

Part 1: O Death

“…the reason for living, was to get ready to stay dead a long time.” -Faulkner

Bones - heavy, hollow, and ancient. Weighted down with centuries of memory, coursing like blood through the marrow of a god-like creature. An archaic patchwork of recollection lay knitted there, the mobile grave of countless ages. Though the surrounding muscles rarely felt the ache of human fatigue, another pain was nestled deep within the unyielding bone.

An tine…

A longing for the flame, a furnace licking at his heart from beneath. Like a frog in a pot, the heat had been slowly rising up within the undead fragment of Remmick’s soul for near 3 years. The longest stretch without his fire.

It’s been a while, darlin’… Is tonight the night I’ll see yer smilin’ face?

All around, the swamp was singing its nocturnal lullaby. Cicadas chirped, a blip to the human ear but waves of buzzing pleasure to the amplified senses of the undead. Their nighttime blessing lulled him, soundwaves pulsing like the comfort of a mother’s arms against Remmick’s sweat-tinged skin.

Here, beneath the lazing cypress, nestled under the twinkling lanterns in the darksome blanket of sky - Remmick could slip into his waking dream. In this place - in their place - the chorus of cricket frogs and Fowler’s toads could lull him back to any era, sinking deep into the pyre of his remembrance. Here, he could burn.

The whisper of a voice beneath the chorus of the swamp - a quick caress at the base of his skull. Like wind through magnolia trees, perfumed and murmuring above the drone of nocturnal song and subtle mist of voices of his night children.

What was that, darlin’? Coulda swore ya said somethin’.

The gentle, buttery teasing of his mind-voice, softly focused upon the secret place at the back of his brain. The night children - his immortal offspring - couldn’t touch that spot. It was the pocket room, reserved only for him and an tine. Like two eager parents, exchanging quiet flirtations as they passed each other in the hallway before putting the babies to bed. A special corner of the cosmos, his own little universe with her.

…sing…

The word was felt more than heard, a sensual brush against the outer realms of his secret galaxy with Shay. It had been so long since she’d answered him - or did it only feel like an aeon to Remmick? Sure, he’d felt her across the miles listening in to his poetry recitations and attempts at luring tunes. At times he swore he could see a flash of her crooked smirk - the snippet of dangerous canines, white and clean and unblooded when he’d send a playful string of sentences her way through their bond. Perhaps it was only his yearning, or the distance between them for the better part of 3 years, that only made it seem her words were few and far between.

…sing for me, Remmy.

The immortal’s eyes flew open, crimson lanterns softly burning in the dark. Remmick remained where he was on his back, the impish curl at his mouth moving upward. There was no doubt - she was speaking to him. Ever-coaxing, her desires the eternal siren song of his heart. Whatever he need do to stoke the fire - he would.

“O Death.

O Death, won’t ya spare me o’er til another year?

Well what is this, that I can’t see

With ice cold hands takin’ over me…”

Undeniable now, the twin of his own thoughts as he felt her smirk and what could only be the familiar shaking of Shaylene’s head. The sensations were thicker, more tangible - she must be closer than she’d been before. Amusement colored her mind-voice as the thought was carried to Remmick’s head between the song’s mournful verse.

…morbid man. Always have been.

Remmick’s gaze remained fixed upon the sky’s twinkling lamp lights, knowing she could see the same stars as he. In all their countless years, through all their shared memories of the world’s different eras - the stars would always stay the same. Just like him and Shay.

“Well I am Death, none can excel.

I’ll open the door to heaven or hell

Woah Death, someone would pray

Could you wait to call me another day?”

Remmick’s voice continued, resonant waves of song brushing up against the other night creatures’ timbre. He sang for her, an tine, the everlasting kindling to her distant passions. The loathsome sky became as a scrying mirror, the veins of Remmick’s memory coursing with both pleasure and pain…

Before Remmick’s eyes swam images of an age near-forgotten, before the Long Death and Eternal Night. A time when life still coursed through his veins, and the veins of his bride. Outside the humble place of dwelling spanned miles of emerald, tucked beneath a sky of softly weeping grey. Éirinn was her own still then - the Isle belonged only to herself, though like any nation its grasses watered with the blood of human conflict.

The hut overlooked a sidhe - one of the mounds, dwelling place of Those Most Fair. It had always made him uneasy, but Shay’s reassurances that her alliance to the People of the Mound would keep them safe brought an ounce of comfort. And asides - the presence of Na Sidhe or not, it was his father’s land. To tend the mounds was a job of great honor - though thankless still, and his beloved wife’s skills of seership would always garner suspicion.

Back then, she was still Seaghdha. His wife had been blessed with a gift - and with it, a number of curses. Folk came to her for their troubles, or to beg the gods for succor. Only the brave implored Remmick’s wife to pact with the Good Neighbors on their behalf - the brave or the stupid. All who came to the hut left with hope, and while the gifts of the gods and ungods were not always what they seemed, none could deny that they’d been given exactly what they’d asked for.

When an tine had shared with Remmick that she was with child, a streak of fear had slit his guts beneath the fires of joy. What if Na Sidhe took their child? It was known - the People of the Mounds loved the little ones. Coveted them, and stole them away. Sometimes a changeling was left behind - an improper exchange of old or sickly fae with the human baby.

‘They’ll no’ take ‘er, Remmy. I’ve a bargain with the Neighbors. Ye know that.”

At the age of 4 their daughter - who had practically run before she could walk, inheritor of the same flaming locks as her mother - began to tell them of her dreams. Red milk on the mound, smoke from a large fire that covered up the sky. Shaylene had remained stark silent, and despite the way her eyes had glazed over like a mist upon the sidhe - Remmick knew. Even he, devoid of his wife and child’s prophetic night wanderings - could feel something terrible was coming.

On the eve of invasion, to the sound of distant drumbeats and the haunting horns of war - Remmick and his family had climbed down to the mound together. A fire was lit, tendrils of smoke curling up into the sky, darkened with the balefires of their neighbors’ burning homes. Remmick pulled their child close to him, watching with widened eyes and hammering heart as Shay ran a dagger down the pale, calloused flesh of her palm. The gash blossomed, igniting the flames as blushing liquid dripped into the licking embers. Shay was calling to Them, reciting every name and pleading title that might please Those Most Fair. Remmick knew the dangers of giving the Good Neighbors blood that did not emerge from swine nor steer - but when would a family ever be more desperate, than when certain death was just over yonder hill?

Just when Remmick was about to grasp his wife’s hand and tell her they must flee - that the Good Folk weren’t going to help them - time lurched to a standstill. The sounds of distant violence, clashing of swords and screaming of innocents… was silenced. The blooded flames seemed to be suspended, the air around Remmick and his family thickening. He’d only felt it twice before - the unmistakable presence of Them. Remmick’s hair stood on end, a cold sweat breaking out upon the nape of his neck. The air itself was closing in upon him - heavy and choking in his lungs.

“What wish ye, mortal?”

The lining of Remmick’s innards felt hollow, the thrumming of his heart sped to what felt like a fatal beat. The cold, sensual, ancient voice that had curled around him and his family chilled him blood to bone. He had never heard one of Them speak.

Shaylene, her voice strange and faraway in the pocket reality they stood within, was imploring the Otherworldly being for aid. Remmick could only bring himself to glance at the creature - pallid as the dead, with a strange lunar glow that seemed to illuminate from within its humanoid shape. Man or woman? To Remmick’s eyes, it seemed to be a man - the most beautiful, terrifying man he’d ever laid eyes upon. Stark against the creature’s pallor was a gaze as black as night, with no trace of snowy white to distinguish its eyes as human. For despite the deceptions of its general shape, a palatable dread had filled the air - this being was not a child of Adam.

“I’ve need o’ the strongest o’ magics. Give tae me, O Fair One. In exchange, ye’ll have me service in the next life.”

Remmick had chanced to gaze upon the creature’s face, unable to contain his stare as the luminous monster studied his wife. The being’s body was still as a corpse, its rib cage unmoving. Remmick realized with a shudder: it had no need of breath.

“Grant us the power tae fight off Éirinn’s enemies… ‘n keep our child safe.”

Remmick had watched, his heart sinking as the Fair One’s pitch-dark gaze had slowly moved from Shaylene… down to their child. Sweaty arms clutched his offspring tighter to him, the chill of terror nearly buckling Remmick’s legs. He didn’t know that his body could take much more of the icy dread spiking his muscles - until the creature’s cruel mouth slowly curled to an insidious smile. Endless rows of pearly, sharpened teeth emerged - the uncanny nightmare froze the very blood in Remmick’s veins.

“We have an accord.”

What happened next had become a blur in Remmick’s mind. Over myriad years, he’d sat and concentrated with pinpoint precision, straining to remember finer details. After a time, the immortal came to understand that his mind had blackened some specifics in order to protect whatever glimmer of sanity Remmick still grasped. What he did remember was pain, terror… and what felt to him as wading through an endless sea of blood.

Faster than light, the Pale One was on him. Knocked clean to the hungry ground, it happened so quickly Remmick didn’t have time to grasp for their child. The shrill cry of Shaylene’s voice was ringing in his ear, a bean sidhe’s wailing for what was soon to be a dead husband. The creature’s body, though lithe and wiry in shape, had Remmick pinned to the soil with ease. Rows upon rows of razors were sunk into the carotid artery, hot streams of life force spraying from the wreckage of his throat to splash upon the dirts of Éirinn. Had the creature driven in any further with its lethal bite, Remmick’s head would’ve severed from his neck.

Time no longer held meaning. Every moment leading up to Remmick’s inevitable death was happening all at once before his eyes, to the dirge of his wife’s screaming and involuntary gurgles that rippled from his opened throat.

Life was fading swiftly from his body. All control upon his muscles had been given up unto the Pale One - Remmick himself the bloody altar upon the earthen burial shroud of his ancestors. Empty… so hollow. The feeling of his life’s blood draining into the creature’s mouth and dripping to the Isle would remain the queerest sensation Remmick would ever experience. Before the warm and roving black of surrender took him, there was only the round face of innocence staring up as she watched her father die.

When Remmick woke, his body burned. A disintegrating pain that would soon pass into memory, replaced by flame of power in his blood. The sacrificial fire had been extinguished, but the light still burned his eyes somehow. He slowly moved his aching neck, craning to peer up at the heavens. A canopy of stars, glimpsed through a blanket of smoke, was pulsing fast with stellar light. Hypnotic and dancing, Remmick realized through the fog of his rebirth that the lamplights of the night were hurting his eyes.

Wincing as he peered back down to the earth, a small cry choked forth from out his throat at the sight of Shaylene’s body sprawled upon the soil. A pool of shining crimson was leaking from her prone form, flaming strands of hair soaked and covering her face. Remmick’s horror was blessedly short lived - as though his cry had stirred her, a shudder ran through Shaylene’s form. Just as he, she began to move - the sickly crunch of bones moving back into their place, emphasized by the groans of pain in transformation.

Husband and wife had steadied shaking limbs, emerging from the ground to stumble into one another’s arms. Remmick could remember the haunting glow, pinpoints of murderous light peering out at him from Shaylene’s face. Wreathed in blood, the couple embraced - bonded in their newly aching hunger. It was Shay first who glanced beside them - her crimson burning eyes widening at the sight that Remmick dazedly followed.

The Fair One, stained with the vitality of Remmick and his bride, held their daughter’s hand. The child looked, for all intents and purposes, unscathed - a haunted look in her faraway eyes, wet and shining in the dark. The grip of fear tightened its claws in Remmick’s chest - but the fear was not his own.

Ye gods…. No!

Remmick startled to hear his wife’s voice within his head, echoing off the walls of his skull with shocking resonance. A shaken glance was stolen to his wife, her newly taloned fingers covering her blood-speckled mouth with horror. Realization dawned, pale and cold as a winter’s sunrise in the fresh immortal’s heart.

Another faded recollection, Remmick holding Shaylene as she near collapsed into his arms… her frail body wracked with sobs. The Fair One’s voice seemed to sing across the landscape, echoing through timelines both known and not yet unveiled. The being was already turning aside, gently leading their only child into a growing swath of light.

“Ye requested she be kept safe… and so she shall. Away from earthly sorrows.”

“Oh the young, the rich or poor

Hunger like me you know

No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold

Nothing satisfies me but your soul.

O Death,

O Death.”

Remmick’s eyes fluttered closed, lips covering fang at the final tremor of his song. He savored the feeling of Shaylene’s attentions, her focus on him in the ether of their bonded thoughts sweet as a lover’s caress. No doubt she’d glimpsed the bitter memories that had threshed across his mind during the song’s recitation. It remained unspoken - they’d recounted their tragedy in every form of lamentation from thought to song too many times to count. Between them it passed now, thick as summer in the Delta - but unspoken like the breeze.

I miss ya, darlin’.

Remmick shifted restlessly, pressing a new memory into the shared acreage of his universe with Shay. The last time they’d been in each other’s presence - the last time they’d made love. Remmick brushed against the memory, moving it toward his wife as gently as a paper boat upon the Mississippi. The feel of her marbled, tender flesh beneath his calloused fingers - the honeyed scent of her arousal, drawing him in and down to the burning core of her temple. There, he had worshipped… there, he had sinned.

How bad ya miss me, sugar?

Shay’s drawl was low and liquid, like wine spilling over his cup. The caress of her witchcraft, licking at his mind and soul like the nails of a lover down Remmick’s back. The building tease between them, secret and sensuous beneath the starlit night, was his favorite part about their thought-bond. How he loved to sense the rush of blood within her veins, the heat between her legs building from afar. The stars would soon collide, to sate his need and quench the fire - it was so close, he could taste it.

Remmick groaned, the echo of Shaylene’s purr in his thoughts and the vision of their lustrous fornication making heat rush to his groin. The immortal reached down to palm his growing erection, squeezing through the cotton slacks as he whispered back to his wife through their cosmic connection.

My body’s achin’ for ya. ‘n it’s nothin’ to say for the hurt that’s in my heart.

He could feel her smirk returning - he knew she loved it when he begged.

Can’t ya feel it? I need ya so bad, darlin’. Been near 3 years now. Feels like forever.

He could feel her giggle at that - the low, vibrating heat of subtle laughter like music to their shared thoughts. Remmick’s mouth opened in a slight sneer - self satisfied, razored canines flashing in the swampy dark. He squeezed himself tighter, the hardness pressing to his trousers twitching slightly at the laughter of his wife.

Forever is a real long time.

Remmicked groaned once more, moving his fingers to the button of his trousers - the mind-voice of his wife was louder now, visceral and thick as though she stood beside him. He’d ask her now to talk him through it, plead like a dying beggar if she wanted him to. If he couldn’t touch the fire, at least he could hear its song…

“So… this party by invite only? Cuz I'd sure love to join."

Remmick startled from his reverie, excitement candied and pouring through his muscles like a flood. The scent of blood was in the air - some of it dead, and some still alive - but on from that was the cloying, lurid scent of his beloved wife. Cold violets, burning cloves, and flowering vine.

In the darkened glade he saw her form - a shadow beneath the cypress, curved against the tree’s thick trunk. A pallid arm moved up, raising the clove to patient lips. The cherry burned, a pinpoint of sunset in the dark as Shay inhaled - framed beneath the burning coals of red in her eyes.

A vital body’s heart would’ve rushed into a frantic thrum, but Remmick’s lay dead within his chest. Instead the blood began to move more quickly in his deadened veins - and a spark like fire being made passed between him and Shay. The red of blood, of love, of eyes shining in the dark - arose like a wave dashing on the rocks within his soul.

“Hey there handsome.” The roughage of the clove’s hot smoke passed over Shay’s low voice, a grind that made Remmick’s cock jump in his pants. He’d stood at lightning fast speed, stance poised by instinct for danger - or for the hunt.

“An tine… ain’t you a site for sore eyes.” Remmick’s clawed digits twitched at his side, excitement buzzing through his form like the flutter of a lightning bug. “Like heaven in a day dress.”

A grey cloud of smoke sheened in the starlight, dissipating as Shay chuckled low beneath her breath. “Charmin’ as ever… I just couldn’t stay away no more.” The redhead swiftly stuck the clove’s burning point out on her palm, the scent of singeing flesh rushing into Remmick’s nose with a hiss. “I just need my lovin’ man… so, so bad.”

Shaylene’s words were thick with honey, and though she dolloped them like cream upon her husband, the sincerity of her longing was like a cool caress within the bondage of their thoughts. He knew she loved to tease… but cushioned beneath their games was an endless font of love.

Dizzy now with want, Remmick dropped down to his knees with a thud. He leaned forward slowly, palms touching the earthen floor as he moved his body towards her. Shaylene watched, and a flicker of heat passed between them like a flashing bulb. Remmick knew his wife loved to see him like this - and more than that, he loved to please her. To worship at the sacred fount of her cunt, to drink her lips and taste the venomous blood upon his tongue. Shay’s eyes, wet and shimmering in shadow, fixed upon her husband as the pink of her tongue darted out to brush her lip. The sight of Remmick’s sharp, toothy, deviant grin was seen from her eyes as he crawled, stalking as a bobcat in the swamp.

A short length from the mud-ridden bare feet of his wife, Remmick paused as still as straw when he heard a whimper from behind the Cypress. The smell of pulsing, living blood seemed to hit him full force, his cock getting thicker with the ambrosial scent upon the air. “Ya brought company?”

Shaylene’s crooked grin revealed a double pair of fangs, twinned to Remmick’s and slick with saliva. Her body pushed away from the tree, reaching back and down behind the cypress. “Nah… I brought ya a present.”

Faster than a bullet, the man-shaped meat sack hit the ground just beside Remmick, a pale sliver of moonlight illuminating the injured human shape. Blood spurted out a wound in the man’s leg - the splintered bone of a fractured tibia, temporarily crippling the pitiable creature. Remmick felt the spit build up inside his mouth, swallowing once before his mouth hung open in hunger. “Oh sweetheart… ya shouldn’t have.”

The urge to rush upon the sobbing man and feast upon his fear was high - but Remmick was far too old to forget his manners. Burning gaze tore from the injured man, the vampire’s body slinking back towards his wife once more. Shaylene stood before him, looking down with love and voracity upon her beloved. Reverent fingers left the soil, placed upon Shay’s hips before squeezing the supple flesh beneath her thin cotton dress. The smell of fresh blood and the tender meat of Shaylene’s body beneath his fingers was a frenzy not easy to fend off. Remmick fondled at her thighs, the cotton creasing beneath his dirty hands. Let’s share ‘im.

The frantic movements of his hands increased the pulse of energy between them, Shaylene’s lips parting to utter a lustful sigh. Remmick’s thought-words caused her head to fall back, taloned fingers carding through his dusky locks. The touch of her hands, sharpened nails raking across his scalp made Remmick loose a moan. A thick stream of drool beaded at the edge of his lips before trailing down and off his chin.

The neck is yours, handsome.

Remmick flew from his wife’s doting fingers, latching with a lethal bite to the injured man’s tender throat. Hot, vital, flowing liquid burst into his mouth immediately, leaking out the sides to chase the drool from his jawline. The man’s mournful cries turned to wailing, though the sound was quickly stifled by the gurgle of blood that filled his ravaged throat. A momentary clawing at Remmick was abruptly finished when Shay lunged upon him with a hiss. Her claws made quick work to secure the man’s hands at his sides before sinking her ravenous dentition to the flesh of his shoulder. A seizing twitch shook his body once, before all the fight leaked out with his fluids.

From out the dizzying mania of his bloodlust, Remmick felt the wire of his bond to Shay undulate. He let his mind touch hers, relishing the savor of blood that rushed into her undead form, coalesced with the sensations of his own feeding. His cock was painfully hard now, and he thrust against the dirt to get some friction. He couldn’t help but moan, a gush of blood erupting out the side of his mouth with the sound.

Remmick squirmed at the beastial growl let loose from Shaylene’s throat - as the thrust of his pleasure rippled through her mind. Death had nearly claimed their prize, the fluid of his vital force painting the immortals before flowing to the dirt. At the final breath, his wife disengaged with a humid gasp. Remmick swiftly followed, a passel of blood roiling in his mouth. Above the drained man, the dripping mouths of the vampires met, open in a frenzied kiss. The savored blood poured from Remmick’s tongue onto Shay’s, passing the final drops to her in frantic gratitude and love. A moan swept between them, fangs clashing as they devoured one another’s mouths. Three years of waiting, of wanting, of lust for the body and blood of their respective companions poured into each other like sweetest wine. Hands sharp and slick with blood were frantically running over Shay’s body as she clutched the sides of Remmick’s face to draw him closer.

Sunlight and starshine constellated in their veins, the glowing force of vitality dancing between their bodies & minds. Remmick clambered over the nameless husk, intoxicated with the blood and lusting for his wife. Their lips barely separated, only when Remmick pressed his stained mouth to Shaylene’s throat, her jaw, her grasping fingers. Love ye. Need ye. An tine.

Shay was spread beneath him now, her parted thighs a bewitching invitation. Remmick’s cock engorged with his need, pulsed and straining against his pants with blood. The smell of his wife’s arousal hit his senses, sumptuous and sticky in his throat. Remmick growled, thrusting up against her heated core.

Remmy, please. Love… Want ya so bad. Please!

“Ya have me, darlin’. I’m yours. I’m yours.” His guttural affections passed from out his lips, the echoes of Shaylene’s mind-pleadings shooting heat unto his groin. I’ll kiss yer pussy raw.

A bead of sweat dropped from Remmick’s forehead, landing upon the newly-exposed flesh of Shaylene’s chest. Her husband had ripped the front of her dress open, a single claw tearing cotton down the front with a violent sound. Droplets of red fell to the pink and budded nipple, beading from the drooling point of Remmick’s chin. He set to licking, sucking, and moaning down into her breast - bloodied tongue circling the pebbled rosebud as Shaylene arched her back. The razored tips of Remmick’s claws circled the other breast, wishing not to neglect any mound of tender, willing flesh. A drawn out sigh emerged from out her lips, sweet and sumptuous as any swell of songbird’s tune.

I love you. I love you. Kiss me, Remmick…

“I got ya, sweet thing.” He was kissing the line of her collarbone, relishing the sweetness of her flesh painted down with liquid life. No better combination, in this world or the next - that much he was sure of. ‘n I ain’t never lettin’ go…

Remmick pressed his cock against Shay’s thigh, purposely avoiding the spot they both were aching for. To draw things out, to worship at the altar of a woman’s flesh and bones, was to carry her to heaven’s gate. No matter how long it took, he’d wing her to that sacred, flooding ecstasy.

Panting breaths escaped Shay’s lips, moans becoming more frantic as her husband kissed his way to the curve of silky hips. The hem of her dress was pushed up past the pallid skin of her legs, bunched in haste above her navel.

Remmick snarled at the sight of her pussy, open and exposed with nothing to cover his wife beneath the slip of a dress. A blood-spattered grin eased across his face as he lay belly-down into the dirt, inching eager lips to Shay’s waiting slit. The tips of needled talons pricked into the silken flesh of his wife’s thighs, the smallest beads of red forming there to trail down her leg, and into the pink folds that were already slick for him.

“My turn to make ya sing, darlin’.”

In the next installment: earthbound gods collide to shake the earth with their lovemaking + a vampire’s lullaby.

#remmick #sinners #remmick sinners #remmick smut #sinners movie #sinners remmick #remmick x oc #jack o'connell #vampires #to feed the flame #my fanfics #horror #horror fanfiction

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miajooz · 3 months ago

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☼ᨒ mia’s works ⋆˚✿˖°

smut ❀ fluff ✮ angst ꩜ - key !

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s-ainty · 1 month ago

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Lock and key

Karasu Tabito x AFAB!Reader | Word Count 1.4K

content warnings: anal, gaping, established relationship, unprotected sex, pain kink, tabito calls reader good girl once

All things considered, Karasu Tabito is the ideal boyfriend. He opens doors for you, pulls out your chairs, gives you his coat when you’ve left yours at home and he catches the way your arms cradle the last bit of warmth towards yourself. He’s a little cocky and doesn’t think before he speaks most times; but you’ve learned to love his bluntness.

Karasu doesn’t keep secrets and is annoyingly good at prying your darkest ones out of you. Picks at the seams until your patchwork is torn down. While he may be the one to pick and prod and break; he’s always there to fix them, properly this time. Sweet words and soft kisses begin to heal parts of you that you weren’t even aware were bruised. It’s good— great even. You really, really, like Tabito (perhaps even love) and you’re almost entirely certain he feels the same.

But (there always a but, isn’t there), you can’t help the feeling there’s something more he wants from you— something he hides deep in his chest under lock and key.

You don’t notice it the first time you have sex. And honestly, why would you? While sex isn’t new to the two of you, sex together is. The shrouded insecurity gets quickly swept away when you’re underneath him though; when he runs his filthy, filthy mouth in the best way possible. When his hands grip and squeeze and his chest rumbles with deep groans when he pushes past the tight ring of your pussy for the first time. When he whispers in your ear how you were made for him, made to take his cock.

After the first time, it gets easier. You both become more vocal about your likes and dislikes. You’re content. That’s when the realization dawns on you; that you’ve become docile prey resting in the maw of a wolf shrouded in lust.

“C’mon, pretty,” Karasu coos in your ear, “won’t ya let me?”

His fingers circle your clit, your body already shaking from the orgasms previously pulled from you. His finger dips down, circling the tight ring of your ass before pushing in, just so.

“It’ll feel so good, angel,” he promises, teeth nipping, tongue soothing, “Have I ever lied to ya before?”

And well, no, he hasn’t. Karasu is a generous lover, always putting your needs before his own, never asking for more than he knows you can handle.

“Don’t be shy,” his spit slicked finger pushes in further, thumb reaching to dip into your pussy as he speaks, “I know ya like it, baby. Remember last time I ate your pussy? When you let me fuck your little hole open with my fingers while my tongue ate this tight pussy.”

It’s hard to argue when he makes you feel this good. And it’s not that you don’t want it, you know if you said stop now he would. It’s just so…

“Dirty,” you finally whine, fingers clawing at his back as he pushes a second finger past the tight ring of your ass, “T-Tabito, ‘s dirty.”

Karasu laughs, smirk glinting in the moonlight as he coos down at you.

“Dirty? But ya like it. What does that make you then, huh?”

You hate the effect he has on you, eyes rolling back as his fingers speed their pace, his thumb circling your pussy.

“Such a dirty girl, aren’t ya? You like when I play with your ass, baby?”

“Please,” you finally break, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point, “please, Tabito.”

But Karasu knows, he always does. Knows you like the back of his hand, plays your body like a finely tuned instrument.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers as he slides over your body, slots himself between your legs, “I’ll make it so good, baby.”

You’re nodding and whining and—

“Tabito,” you cry, fingers fisting his hair as his tongue circles the rim of your ass, his chuckles reverberating through your body as his tongue splits you open.

Large hands push your legs up to press against your chest, and you hold them there like the good girl he always says you are. Your hands are maneuvered quickly, his own covering them as he leads them to spread yourself for him.

“Just like that, angel,” he groans, before spitting harshly onto the rim, “spread yourself for me, be good.”

You’re hot all over, from embarrassment or lust you’re not quite sure; perhaps it’s just Karasu. The hold he has over you.

He moans as you spread yourself further for him, his free hand falling to fist at his leaking cock as he eats your ass.

“You gonna cum like this? Dirty little thing,” he chides.

You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed anymore, not when his own moans fill your ears, when the wet sound of his leaking cock fills the sounds of his mouth prepping you for it.

You whine when he pulls back, tears falling as you’re ripped from the edge of your climax.

“Wanna feel you cum while I’m fucking you open,” he moans, “breathe in for me baby, c’mon. Relax for me.”

Karasu tries not to let his desperation take over, he’d never want you to hurt, especially because of him. But the way you’re whining and crying and clawing at him; the way your unused hole clenches with a need to be filled… he finds himself pressing the leaking tip of his cock into you faster then he should.

You gasp in pain; teary eyes looking up at him.

“Hurts… hurts, Tabito.”

“I know,” he soothes, “but I’ll make it feel so good. You trust me, don’t you, pretty girl?”

His fingers fall to your clit as you nod, pressing deeper before pulling back just so as he circles the sensitive bud.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, cock twitching as your pussy, so wet from his earlier treatment leaks down onto him, “you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to fuck you into the shape of my cock.”

You cry out at that, hips bucking so harshly he’s pushed into the hilt. Cries of pleasure fall from the both of you, and Karasu has to will himself not to finish when cum gushes out of your pussy; squirting as he fucks your ass open.

“Holy fuck,” Karasu moans through gritted teeth, “you like that, baby? You like when it hurts?”

“Yes!” You cry out, hands clawing at his chest as his hips snap harshly into yours. Your legs over his shoulders, his hands intertwined behind your neck to make you watch how he fucks you open. Makes you take it.

“I’m— fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”

Karasu’s hips snap harsher, faster, deeper if even possible. Using you to chase his own high. Your walls squeeze him so tight, nearly forcing him out as another high washes over you; one so visceral no sound can even escape you.

“Just like that,” he encourages, “just like that, baby. Fuck— take it, take it, take it.”

He presses as deep as he can one last time before he’s pulling out, hand fisting quickly over his cock as he looks where you were once connected.

“L-look at you,” his hand digs into the fat of your ass spreading you open more, “gaping for me baby, gonna cum in you. Breed this ass; make it mine.”

You beg for it, cry and weep for his cum; and Karasu’s tightly wound string snaps, hips bucking into his hand as he cums in your ass, on your pussy.

He collapses onto you as his high dwindles, cradling you gently in his arms.

“So good,” he soothes, “you did so good for me, baby. Such a good girl.”

He pops his head from the crook of your neck to look at you, nipping at your jaw when you pout up at him.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Only the good kind,” you say with a shy smile.

He kisses you gently, hands massaging at sore muscles.

“Can’t believe you squirt just from—

“Stop! You’re done, we’re never doing that again.”

#writing.bllk #tabito karasu x reader #karasu tabito x reader #karasu x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #saint.writes

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onyourowndaisymae · 2 years ago

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don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel (you are here) // belphie -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader

beelzebub, who doesn't have the capacity to get to know you in the way he should. it seems that every season of his life comes with heartbreaking turmoil, and he just has to get used to that feeling of emptiness in his stomach. first, with the celestial war, he lost lilith. now, as the exchange program began, he had to say goodbye to his twin brother for an entire year. he hopes you don't take it personally-- he just can't spare the mental or emotional energy to embrace your arrival like he should.

beelzebub, who can't thank you enough for the way you've repaired his family. he never would have suspected that you had been forming the pacts with his brothers to release belphie from the attic. a small, nervous part of him wonders if you had been nice to him just to get his pact, that you didn't mean all those things you said-- but he knows you. even if you had been lying, you did it for the right reasons. and after all, everything worked out, right? you're here, belphie's back, and the months since his twin's return have been nothing but happy. you have single-handedly stitched his patchwork family back together. beel can't find a way to show how important all you've done for his family really means, but he'll keep trying anyways.

beelzebub, who likes you a lot, actually. he's never been too keen romance. most of his interactions had been spurred on by the other party. he's been attracted to people who are kind yet self-assured, seeking him out first. all of his experiences in crushes, in romance, in bed, have all been a game of follow the leader-- not due to a lack of interest on his part, but because of trauma-ridden aloofness that caused him to focus on the things he still had. romance never topped the priority list... at least, not until it came to you. beel saw you as a member of the family for a long time, longer than he maybe should have. but there's something special about you. something about you that makes him love you differently than he does his brothers. he just wants to have you around, always, sharing meals and movies and glances across the dinner table that make his brothers squirm. he's finally found someone special in his life-- someone he's going to give romance a try for.

beelzebub, who has never been good at controlling his appetite. it hits him at the worst of times, constantly, gnawing at his insides until he can't ignore it. that was why he is stuck in this position. a hunger brews in him, all adrenaline from the latter half of the fangol game and lust, and-- fuck, he needs relief. water beats loudly against the tiles, disguising the deep growl in his throat as he tugs impatiently at his aching cock once, twice, listening hard to make sure no one else was still in the locker room. he listens until he couldn't anymore, until his hand began to move impatiently on its own, another growl rumbling in his chest before he relents and begins pleasuring himself. his mind wanders to you, on the railing of the bleachers, screaming your lungs out in support of his team, feet pounding against the metal steps as you jumped about. you were there for him, cheering for him, watching his every move. he imagines you creeping in to reward him after everyone else left, perched on your knees on the locker room floor, wide eyes watching him with so much love as you swallow his cock, plush lips wrapped around his shaft as you take him as far as you can. just the thought makes his cock throb in his hand. he didn't have long to finish himself off and head out, but his mind couldn't help but linger on the image a bit longer...

beelzebub, whose date night just got a whole lot better. the two of you had spent the evening at hell's kitchen eating your fill (or in beel's case, eating them out of stock) then coming back to the house of lamentation for a movie. but your hand began to wander during the movie-- not towards the snacks, which he offered you several times as your gaze began to wander, but to his upper thigh. your fingers creep in further, until you're brushing against the seam of his pants. he hardens at your touch, your gaze, the steady sound of your breathing next to him. he shoots you a curious look. he quietly warns you that yours fingers are touching him in a particular place-- surely you know that already? you nod. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. his view of the screen may be obstructed, but it's obvious that the movie has fallen to the wayside for now. it's him that takes the initiative to guide your hips into a steady grind against his own, little gasps escaping yours lips as he watches you more intently than he ever did the screen. grinding turns to kissing and kissing turns to grabbing, his big hands grabbing at your sides, your ass, your thighs, spreading you open for him. his fingers slip past the waistline of your pants and begin to toy with your sex through your underwear. you begin to tug at his sweatpants, desperately reaching for his cock while rutting into his hand. his cock springs free-- fuck, he's massive-- and you whine for it. you tugged your pants off in a few hurried movements. he tries to warn you about needing more prep, but his words die in his throat as you whimper for it, tell him how much you need him. his eyes and mind both glaze over with lust as gathers your juices and scissors them inside of your entrance, reaching deeper and deeper as you grip his broad shoulders and moan. when you're ready, he lines you up over his cock and lets your sink onto his length. you're so tight and soft and his head is spinning. fuck. the drag of his cock through your insides makes him groan. he doesn't even realize he's pinned your back against the couch until you look up at him with wide eyes and murmur his name. he starts to pull back, but you repeat his name-- your tone is laced with lust, hands reaching for him to come closer, and he does. he hovers close enough to brush his lips against your ear and apologize. you're a strong human, right? you can handle a little roughness? his hips pull back then thrust roughly into you, making your vision blur for just a moment, before he begins a truly sinful pace. a new sort of appetite brews within him-- and you know he's never been good at resisting his gluttonous urges.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om nb #obey me smut #otome #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel smut #obey me beelzebub smut

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creampie-capital · 3 months ago

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║ꜰʀᴀɴᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴇɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ║

↳「ʙᴀʙʏ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ」║ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ➠ 18+

ɴᴀᴍᴇ║Franken Stein

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║Soul Eater

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║7,083

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇɴ."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"You have to work with me, (Y/n)."

Refusing to even look at him, you set your gaze on your nails. Your legs were crossed over each other as you leaned back against the couch in the Patchwork Lab.

"If you want our relationship to grow stronge,r then you're going to have to let it go."

Disregarding Stein's words and not even giving him a glance, you stood to your feet and kicked your heels back on. "I'm going back to staying at Spirit's for a while. Send a message if you need me." You informed, tiredly reaching for your purse only for his hands to seize your wrist.

This ultimately gained your attention. Your (e/c) optics connected with his fern-hued ones. The stare-off was so intense that the air seemed thicker in the room.

"You're not going to leave just because you're a little upset. That's childish, (Y/n)." The man stated, smoke wafting from his lit cigarette.

"No." You blew out the cancer stick and yanked his hold off your wrist. "Us breaking up doesn't warrant you to go and sleep with Marie who you almost got pregnant! I mean-"

You slapped his chest with your purse, permitting a loud grunt to echo from his throat. "We broke up because you didn't want kids and I did!" You snapped before bearing a deep breath to calm yourself.

The exceedingly tall 6'10 (208 cm) male gazed down at you with an ardent stare. "You're becoming extremely emotional about this, you're not going to be able to think clearly."

"Stein." You called his last name in a warning tone. "I'm not even mad that you slept with her, we broke up, on a break. I'm mad because you don't understand how important having a family is to me, and how I want it to be with you. Almost getting her pregnant before we got back together reveals your blatant disregard for my feelings. It shows you rather put your test, questions, and experiments above everyone, above me."

It was difficult to be upset with him about these things. Stein is different than everybody else who saw anything in the world as an experiment.

He lacks the ability to understand complex emotions and most of his actions were shallow, only to benefit his dormant madness and twisted mind.

Knowing the scientist for as long as you have, you believed there was a bond the two of you shared. Something that was entirely real and something even Stein didn't understand but welcomed with great interest.

But nothing was ever enough for the mad scientist, apparently. You believed that after the death of Asura, when the madness subsided, so would his drastic lust for experimenting.

Sighing, you shook your head in defeat and strode to his zig-zag-styled doors. You halted once you arrived and flexed your fingers.

"Listen, I'm not giving up on this relationship unless that's what you want. But you have to start showing that you actually care. I know it's hard for you, but you have to work on understanding people deeper than just what's on the surface. When you're ready to show me that, come get me and I'll be happy to come home. Until then, I'll see you at work."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Yawning aloud and waving a hand in front of your face, the bell rang and dismissed your students. They dispersed like a rushing current, all dashing past each other to get to their lunch table first.

You weren't particularly hungry, maybe because there was still a lot on your mind that the thought of even eating made your stomach churn.

There was still quite a bit of time before your next class starts so maybe you'll use this opportunity to rest. Stepping down from your platform, your heels clicked softly as you reached for the light switch.

However, to your surprise, the door to your classroom was opened, and peeking in was none other than your boyfriend and childhood lover. He gave you a jovial smile.

"(Y/n)." He expressed your name in a quiet voice and fully stepped into your classroom. His hands found their way into the pocket of his doctor's lab coat as he quirked a grin at you.

Your lips pulled into a thin-lipped expression with arms crossing underneath your chest. "What do you want, Stein?" You asked, tone uncaring and agitated.

The silver-grey-haired male rose a hand to the large screw-in-bolt in his head and turned it a few times to collect his thoughts.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you." He inquired, a glimmer arising in his round glasses permitting you to raise an eyebrow and cock your head to the side.

"That's suspicious. That's weird." The man rolled his fern-colored orbs at your response.

"It's weird that I want to see my significant other?" He questioned, shutting the door behind him. You nodded your head immediately with no hesitation.

Stein's left eye twitched slightly. "I did just want to see you." He announced. "I also wanted to do something with you."

Your brows rose as you scratched at the back of your neck. "Can't be good. If you want to dissect me then you're gonna have to wait till I die."

The handsome man laughed in his throat and your shoulders couldn't help but deflate. You wondered if his effort were fake, just one of his automatic responses or a genuine reaction.

You weren't sure and you didn't know if you knew him as well as you thought anymore.

"No, I'll save that for later." You rolled your (e/c) eyes. "I wanted to try soul resonance."

A bit taken aback, you felt your mouth slip agape. "Why do you want to do something like that now? We're not even in combat?" You questioned.

Stein nodded his head before bearing slow almost intimidating steps to your frame. His long limbs left him no trouble arriving in front of you quickly.

"You know-" He let one of his fingers caress your lower jaw, his face tilting down closer to yours. "it's not only for combat. It's also a way two souls can bond and communicate telepathically."

It took you a second to understand where things were going but as soon as you realized you had to shake your head. It was a bit clever that Stein would like to convey his thoughts to you through his mind rather than his lips.

What you wanted was for him to work on himself, to be able to express his thoughts freely. But, you guess you'll humor him for now.

"Fine." You accepted and stepped back, holding out a hand for him to take. His lips quirked into a grin as he gladly accepted your hand.

His head dipped as his lips delicately touched the back of your hand, placing a smooch on it that you still could feel even when he pulled away.

He held them in a secure hold before drawing your body to his and placing his free hand on the small of his back. Your breath hitched as the warmth of his body wafted onto your skin through your clothes.

It had been a while since the two of you touched each other and you hope he works on himself soon. You miss his touch.

Gradually you let your eyes wander back up to his face and met his gaze. Ah, those beautiful fern eyes that you fell in love with when you were only kids and still manage to fall even more in love with as adults.

"Do you remember how to dance?" He teased lightly, referring to your absentmindedness.

His words shook you from your thoughts, you blinked a few times before quickly looking anywhere but his face. "Shut it, I'm the one that taught you to dance in the first place."

He hummed in response as you brought your hand up to his shoulder and held your clasped arms outwards. Something special the two of you shared was how the tempo of your beating hearts thumped rhythmically, matching each other.

It allowed the two of you to dance with no music, resonating with the sound of living hearts that corresponded concurrently.

The movement was muscle memory, striding off with a sharp, precise step before being spun around into the next corresponding move.

Heels clicked with the tiled ground as each connecting movement only lasted for a second as the next move commenced. Your heart swelled at the feeling, your mind dizzy from the swaying but also from the nostalgia.

Your eyes found their way up to his face again, connecting with his eyes and once again falling in love with his intense gaze. The sound of your heartbeats drummed in your ears, matching with every step.

The hate, the anger, it all washed away at that moment. You'll have to cuss Stein out later, he knew what he was doing. You hate how smart he is.

Humming, you let your eyes flutter shut and perform every dancing step with excellent precision until your body began to illuminate a white glow.

Your grip on each other's hands grew tight before you morphed into your weapon form. Unlike his previous demon weapon partners who were a scythe, a hammer, and a demon lamp, you were a reverse grip dagger.

The blades were silver, extending alongside his arms and stopping just below his elbow. The matching daggers were connected together by a gold chain at the hilt that grew when he needed it to.

Now that you were was transformed, the hypnotic intimate dance came to a halt as he stared down at your weapon in his hands.

"Ah." He crooned. "It's been a while since I've held you like this."

You snorted, shaking your head within your weapon form. "No, it's been a while since you've held me in human form."

Your childhood lover performed a few attacks at an invisible enemy before chuckling to himself. "How about you transform back and I'll make you remember how my touch in that human form? We still have... say thirty minutes left. Should be enough, right?" He mused.

"Franken Stein!" You hissed. "You're just trying to use cheap tricks to get me to come home!"

The handsome man shrugged his shoulders. "Worth a try."

"Idiot. Either soul resonates with me or get out of my classroom." You shot back.

He whispered 'fine' before inhaling a deep breath and readying his stance. You swallowed the saliva in your mouth before steadying your breathing.

Focus took over your minds as the connection between the two of you grew stronger. Your lips parted, ready to call out soul resonance until a loud commotion distracted you both.

The door to your classroom was slammed open, Spirit's figure sweeping inside as he shouted. "Hey Stein, Marie is asking for your help."

It became awfully still in the classroom as you heard the woman's name. Your heart lurched in your throat as a burning fury coursed through your veins.

It disrupted your melodic heartbeats and broke the rhythm the two of you were sharing.

You weren't even mad at Marie, no; it was just that hearing her name was a reminder of how she almost got what you wanted, how Stein's curiosity meant more to him than you.

These feelings—the hate, the pain—began to make your souls incompatible. The handle of your blades began to seethe with heat until it was like molten Lava.

The Meister had to release your form, dropping you down as you quickly shifted back to your original appearance. "Looks like you're busy." Your words were callous as you turned around to collect your jacket from the coat rack. "Turn off the lights when you leave."

You didn't wait to hear any responses, no excuse at all. Brushing past the Albarn male, your heels clicked down the hall, leaving the former partners in your old classroom.

"Spirit," Stein called.

The said male turned back to face the mad scientist only for his jaw to slacken. Stein's soul began to project forward, his strength infusing with the air and making sweat drip down the back of Spirit's neck.

"I'm going to dissect you fully now."

A loud scream echoed through the halls as the Death Scythe ran for his life with the Elite Meister following behind.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

So, Plan A of 'Getting my future wife back' did not pan out how the mad scientist wanted.

But that's alright, he had another plan in mind in case Plan A didn't work out as he needed it to. With the power of persuasion, he managed to get you to agree to a date.

The first part consisted of dinner at a grandiloquent restaurant. Spirit and Marie decided to dress up in disguise so they could watch your date and assist Stein since he tended to lack common sense sometimes.

They sat a few tables down, peeking over their menus to observe your interactions. And it didn't look like things were going well.

Your arms were crossed under your chest, and you kept your gaze away from your significant other. This may have been petty, but it only fueled the growing turmoil inside.

When the waiter made his round to your table and asked what your meals would be, Stein confidently said a dish that had you gagging at even hearing the name.

How did he not remember you hated that? And how could he forget your favorite meal?

It was not looking good for the Elite Meister who could be seen visibly sweating. The date had just started and he was already f*cking up.

"So um, how has your class been doing?" He questioned, attempting small talk.

You glanced up from your phone before returning your gaze back to the cellular device. "Fine."

An awkward silence surrounded the two of you as Stein struggled to come up with the right words and you struggled to find any patience to stay.

The usually cool, level-headed man was at his wit's end at the moment. He didn't know how to give you what you wanted, he didn't know the correct words to say.

A genius, a prodigy, and he struggled to convey his emotions. You were the only one that could make him feel so weak. The only one that he couldn't stump or trick. The only one that had him so nervous, not even twisting the screw-in-bolt could help him focus.

This was going to be a long date.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Plan B ended horribly and made things considerably worse! He must be on his last life at this point with you.

There was only one more thing he could do, and there was no guarantee that it would work.

You let out a breath as you turned the key into the Patchwork Lab and unlocked the door. The first thing you saw was utter darkness.

"Stein, even if I am not here, I told you to keep the curtains open! My plants need what little light they can get!" You shouted down the hall before setting your purse on a stand and nearing the windows.

With exasperated movements, you slid open the dark curtains and tied them with ribbons to keep them open. By the time you finished, there was still no response, causing you to exhale audibly.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you made your way to the living room, hoping the male was by one of his computers.

However, once you entered, you saw nobody around. The only thing that indicated anybody was there was the small lamp turned on by the couch.

Stepping towards it, you noticed a small, worn-down book atop a folded blanket. It was one of your favorites, and the one the mad scientist had gotten you for your birthday a few years ago.

The sight before you was suspicious, it had you pucker your lips from the sketchiness. But it was obvious what this was for, he wanted you to read it.

Exhaling a breath, you scooted over the objects before taking their place and unraveled the blankets so they could cover your lower body.

Analyzing the outsides of the book, you could tell it was rather old, and whoever had it before had clearly used it a lot.

Its spine was creased all over, the once smooth leather now crinkled and ridged. What you assumed used to be creme white pages looked to have met water with how the bottom of the pages curved and some tinted a dimmer hue.

How odd.

Turning the book back to the front, you slowly opened the hardcover and saw long paragraphs.

This wasn't just a book, it was a journal. And it belonged to Franken Stein.

You did a quick skim, flipping through some pages to see that the dates started years ago, when the man was just a kid, newly enrolled in the DWMA, and continued until a few days ago.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

◆𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘌𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A smile graced your lips at the memory of your childhood, back when the two of you were new students at the Death Weapon Meister Academy.

He was such an outcast, beating up other students and threatening to kill or dissect them. You even found him fascinating.

It was intriguing to read his thoughts and how he truly felt, and you couldn't help but want to read more. And so you did.

Every entry you read thoroughly, remember how the events happened for you, and you compared them to how Stein perceived them.

What you've come to realize is that the mad scientist wasn't void of intense human emotions; he was clearly experiencing them; he just didn't know how to explain them.

There was another journal entry from your teenage years that caught your attention because of its simple title.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

◆𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵, (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 '𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘯𝘪𝘤'. (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵-𝘩𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴.

𝘐 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬.

𝘈𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴?" 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦.

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘧/𝘤)," 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 ��𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 (𝘧/𝘤) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 (𝘧/𝘤). 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. "𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴!"

"𝘎𝘰 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥," 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦.

"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯!" 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦.

(𝘠/𝘯)'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥.

𝘈 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 (𝘠/𝘯)'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳-𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴? 𝘖𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘤? 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦... 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Your face felt wet and it wasn't until a droplet of water spread across the pages did you notice you were crying.

Sniffling aloud, you dabbed the tears away with the sleeve of your top. You had to take a few deep breaths to stop a sob that wanted to arise.

This was something you never knew. He's never voiced his thoughts or emotions like this to you. It was just always assuming and guessing with him.

But this was everything you wanted to know. It made him appear so human, so real, capable of feeling complex emotions.

There were a bit more pages left, so you decided to finish the rest. Like the entry that you had just read, the observations leading up to you asking him to be in a relationship were similar to each other.

Feelings he didn't recognize, he wrote it all down and attempted to make sense of it, but failed. You never realized, well you couldn't tell how much you were on his mind.

He cared for you more than you ever thought and it only made the tears cascade down your face continuously.

There was one last written page in the journal, it was recent.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳(𝐘/𝐧)

◆𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦.

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸.

𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

"𝘞𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 ��𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦."

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸-𝘪𝘯-𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦? 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘞𝘔𝘈, 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰.

𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵,

𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

"𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 ��𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦."

𝘖𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬-𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥: "𝘎𝘰 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥."

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺.

𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪��𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You didn't even realize your arms were shaking until someone grasped them to calm you down. The touch was familiar and so was the warmth.

Stein's hands slowly released yours, allowing you to close the book and place it on the stand next to the couch.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your face free of tears and trained your gaze up to face the man. He wore an unreadable expression but you could see the strain in his fern-colored optics.

At the moment, you didn't know what to say. All the information you had absorbed was exhausting. You were feeling so much, and it was overwhelming to finally understand and see how he truly felt.

But you didn't realize how much you needed to know it.

"I struggle with a lot of things..." Stein's voice was quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "I don't know how to express myself correctly, and my emotions are poorly developed, but I have never once doubted how much I care about you."

He kneeled down so his height was less intimidating and reached for your hands that you slowly clasped your fingers with.

"What I did was wrong, I know. I... am sorry."

It was rare to receive an apology from Stein, even rarer if he vocalized it. You knew he really meant it and it wasn't just to please you.

"Well, it looks like you're forgiven." You mused, sniffling at the end. The mad scientist shielded his fern orbs with his eyelids as he inhaled deeply.

"I don't know how much longer I could have gone without you." He breathed while leaning forward so his forehead could press against yours.

A grin etched its way to your face. "According to your journal, I was the air you needed to breathe and without me, you would suffocate."

He pulled back slightly and removed his round glasses. "Hey, that was young adult me. I was rather poetic back then." He stated.

You puckered your lips before releasing his hands so you could wrap them around his neck. "Then let's go more recent. You wrote that I was someone for whom you would commit a selfless act. Who you would put even above yourself."

Stein didn't say anything, instead, his large hands removed the blanket from your legs so he could wrap them around your waist and heave you up in the air.

You squeaked slightly from the surprise and tightened your hold around his neck. "Stein, what are you-"

"I've missed you." He interjected, stepping out of the living room and down the hall to his laboratory.

Humming softly, you leaned forward so your face hid in the crook of his neck. While blowing air against his throat, you felt him shiver and another one arise when you kissed his skin tenderly.

"(Y/n)."

You sighed dreamily at hearing your name leave his mouth breathlessly. "I've missed you so much."

Arriving at his lab, the male set you down on the examining table and pulled back to gaze upon your features. His hands squeezed and caressed your thighs while breathing softly.

"If you would allow-" He leaned forward, letting his lips graze the shell of your ear lightly. "-I'd like to show you how much I missed you."

The insinuating tone to his voice had your tummy tingle and your throat swallow thickly. "I'm all yours."

Stein never made empty promises or turned back on his words. If he said he was going to show you how much he missed, he was going to give it his all.

He had leaned down from his tall stature and captured your lips with his. He was impatient, almost needy as his lips moved against yours.

You could taste him, that unforgettable tang from his tongue. Coffee and most importantly tobacco. You hated smoking or anything to do with cigarettes but when the taste came from his own mouth you desired more.

Your fingers played with his silver-grey locks, lightly tugging before entangling your fingers in them. The man pushed himself against you, desiring to feel your warmth and to feel your body against his.

A hand left your thigh only to creep up to your stomach and snake underneath the clothing item. He caressed your bare skin, dragging his calloused fingertips along your tummy.

The man was touched starved, deprived of any sort of contact for far too long. The sensation of touching your own skin drove him to a hunger he never knew he had.

Wasting no time he pulled back only so your top could be removed but once the appeal no longer shielded your bare body from the man's view his lips were back on yours.

The moment was feverish but also intimate, the two of you felt closer than ever. The information of Stein's true thoughts and feelings made the moment so much more special.

And since you now know what he always kept hidden, he didn't feel like he needed to hold anything back.

His hands removed the bra that supported your breast and replaced the garments with the rough texture of his palms.

The mad man was growing madder. A hunger that formed in the pit of his stomach grew, the longing to be as close to you as can be was overtaking his hazy mind.

Your childhood lover pulled back, the two of you panting, desperate for air but frantic for more. Stein removed his lab coat which was quickly followed by his stitched shirt.

His pale chest was all there for you to view. You soaked in the sight of the firm abbs that flexed when he sucked in a breath deeply.

Lightly you traced the long stitched mark that was wrapping around his left shoulder, down across his pectoral and ribs before reaching down to waistline by crossing over his lower abdomen.

You could feel his body shudder and see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. No matter how many times the two of you have seen each other's bodies, it felt like you were seeing them for the first time.

Always the both of you found something new on each other, something that you made sure to engrave into your minds.

Stein leaned down to kiss the middle of your throat, trailing wet kisses as he carefully removed your bottom and undergarment.

There was no shame, nothing to hide. He's known your body, every nook, and cranny since you were teens.

His lips trailed from your neck, down the valley of your breast, following the middle of your tummy until he reached between your legs.

Franken Stein was a starving man and you were the never-ending buffet he kept coming back to. He ravished your body, devouring your taste, your smell in an absolute bid of madness.

His name echoed from your lips, reverberating off your chest and ringing in his ears. Your regular voice just calling his name was enough to make his knees buckle.

But when you moaned it, wailing it out in submissions of pleads made everything in him weak. More, he had to give you more.

His fingers aided his mouth in his desire to express his longing for you. The other hand gripped onto a thigh as if attempting to mold the two of you together.

Bruises formed underneath his fingers tips, decorating your skin in markings of his unhinged eros. His hair was being pulled and tugged as his name rasped from your throat.

One time wasn't enough, it didn't satisfy his point of making you see how much he missed you. He brought you to the edge multiple stints, hearing your cries grow louder when he had your entire lower body quivering beneath him.

By the time he was satisfied with the number of your climaxes, you were already a mumbling mess. Sweat coated your skin, shimmering in the laboratory light.

Your breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling unrhythmically. Oh, how he drank in the sight of his lover in such a state.

The feelings, the sensations, all of it has never been as strong as it is when he is with you. And he wanted you to feel that.

The Meister didn't waste any time removing the remainder of his clothing so he was just as bare as you, just as vulnerable.

He held your face in his large hands, meeting your swollen lips with his again, tasting yourself as well as him.

This time it was slower but just as profound. In between every kiss he whispered your name breathlessly and relayed every bit of information that he loved about you.

Your eyes, your smile, your scent, your warmth. The list went on until your eyes glazed with tears.

I love you—and I love you so much—was repeated from your mouth like a broken record. Just saying it didn't feel like enough. No matter how many times you sounded it, you wanted to express it more.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing him closer to you and eagerly begging for him to finally connect his body with yours.

His response was licking the smooth skin of your throat and decorating it in contusions, creating colorful blemishes on display for anyone to see.

When he had his fill, his hands intimately held onto your waist, his face inching down to your tummy where he placed wet kisses along with it.

All the while he enters himself inside, he hears the ragged gasp of amazement and content leave your lips.

Your lover reached deep, grazing against sensitive areas that had you jolt and quiver beneath. Just as desperate as he was when he ravished your body was just as frantic as his longing to bring you to another climax.

He rolled himself out, letting you feel every inch fade only for you to greedily devour him when he entered back in.

Not only could you hear his grunts and groans, but you feel those exhales along your tummy. It tickled you lightly, adding to the stimulation of his already sensual thrust.

Pleads and cries for more seemed to be the only thing you could say. Even though he was already so deep, kissing your body intimately, you wanted more like you wanted to be a part of him completely.

Your love for him held no bounds, it only grew like a lush forest left untouched. And the same for you could be said about the man who was unraveling above you.

His strong grips formed bruises underneath just as his mouth did on your abdomen. He wanted to swallow your moans down his throat just as much as he wanted to hear them.

Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his shoulders, creating crescent-shaped blemishes the closer you came to breaking the skin.

His groans grew louder, throatier when you reached your high. Singing his name like a melodic hymn, praising him like a divine god.

When it came time for his own high, he usually pulled out if he wore no contraceptive. But this time he made no indication of doing so.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you so tightly you could hear his heartbeat. When ecstasy filled his veins, he released inside.

And one point even whispered some words into your ear that were quick to rejuvenate you of your exhaustion.

"We're not stopping until I know you're pregnant."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Hey, Stein."

The male hummed as he kept his gaze on your leg, massaging your tense muscles and smoothing out any knots.

He was kneeling in front of your frame that rested on the couch, playing with the ends of a small envelope.

"I received this newsletter in the mail the other day. Want to hear it?"

"Sure."

You used your nail to undo the glue and pulled out a few sheets of paper. Quickly skimming over the paragraphs, you nodded your head. "Hmm, well it says here... Oh my!"

The male's gaze flew to your face only to see you give him an ecstatic smile. Turning the paper around to face him, you spoke in a dainty voice.

"You're going to be a father."

His heart skipped a beat.

Stein had accepted the idea of having a child with you, just thinking of it as another part of his life. But as soon as he heard those words his throat closed.

He felt it—that joy that only you could give him surged through his veins. He felt enlightened, as if the world had opened a door to the universe's secret and allowed him to retain information no one else had ever done.

You leaned forward to place a soft smooch on his nose to gain his attention that had clearly wandered off. "Are you going to write about this in your journal?" You sought.

The man observed your frame for a second before shaking his head of silver-grey hair. "No." He murmured under his breath.

His hands rose from your leg to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. He neared his face to yours and basked in the sight of your twinkling eyes.

"I don't need the journal to understand how much I love you. I know that I am thankful and that I am elated."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

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sugar-coat-it · 1 year ago

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Body piercer! Matty

Part 2 , Part 3

May I present my pride and joy (and first AU), body piercer Matty <3, based on the 2020 NOACF mohawk era

Fem! reader

****CW! Needles, pain****

Contains: Matty piercing reader’s nipples*, lustful fantasies, praise, Matty has a tongue piercing, HELLA tension and pining, Matty being a sweetheart through the whole thing

*note, I don’t have nipple piercings lol, apologies if any of this is inaccurate.

Word count: 5313

—------------------------------------------

PART ONE- Fate lands you in Matty Healy’s capable hands when looking to get your nipples pierced. Tension ensues.

—-----------------------------------------

The thought of getting your nipples pierced had been in the back of your mind for what felt like years. It nagged at you every time you saw a pretty girl with barbells poking out under her tank top, you wanted to be her. You’d done all the research, article after article on the healing period, the pain level, and the kinds of jewelry you can get. You also knew fairly well how they enhance sexual encounters, which had a whole draw of its own. You’d done everything except actually make the appointment. That is, up until a few days ago. Fresh off of a breakup and tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d called your local tattoo parlor and scheduled a slot with a body piercer named Maddie, then hung up feeling rather pleased with yourself for finally getting it done. The anticipation of the leadup to the appointment had you biting your lips raw. You’d gotten other piercings before, but never in a place so intimate. Never one that required taking your top off, that’s for certain. But friends had been encouraging you nonstop, telling you what a “hot girl” move it was, and who were you to argue?

Finally, the day comes, and you’re swinging open the parlor door a little too hard, evidently very tense. The bell that jangles when the door opens clanks against the wall, making the man behind the counter startle. Wide-eyed and wincing, you shoot him an apologetic look, embarrassed that you’d practically ripped their front door off the hinge. Great start!

Slowly, after making sure the door is safely shut, you approach the counter, absentmindedly toying with the rings that adorn your fingers, twisting them between your thumb and your forefinger. The man at the counter is exactly who you’d expect to be working at a tattoo and piercing parlor, but an even more stunning rendition if you were being honest. His slightly sleepy-looking eyes brighten a little at the sight of you, a fluffy mohawk of chocolatey waves sitting atop his head. He’s adorned with inked patterns along his skin, a patchwork of symbols across his arms that you restrict yourself to only glancing at for a moment. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he greets you with a warm smile, offering a little wave before you start to explain why you’re here, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

“Hi, I’ve got a 1:00 appointment?” you explain before providing your name, trying your hardest to stop fidgeting.

Your mind is in about 20 places, and it doesn’t help that your heart just fluttered at the eye contact he’s holding with you. The man nods at you, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he picks up the scheduling book, sifting through the pages with black polished nails. When he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of the single silver hoop earring that he’s sporting quite well. Curiosity creeps up like a slinking cat, making you wonder what other modifications he might have. His narrowed eyes scan the book, toffee-colored irises flicking over names until he finds yours penciled in, jabbing his nail against the page.

“Yeah I see you, you’re with me then. And, you did your paperwork and payment stuff, it looks like,” he says, snapping the schedule closed definitively.

“Oh, no I don’t think…” you start to correct, tilting your head at him with confusion until you trail off into quiet.

That’s when it catches your eye, the nametag on his white tank top reads “Matty”. Then it clicks. Matty. Not Maddie. You’d scheduled your appointment to get your tits pierced with a guy. A very attractive guy that was now going to watch you squirm like a child. Your jaw drops slightly, a sinking feeling in your gut starting to fester as you realize your mistake.

“Everything alright there? Second thoughts, perhaps?” Matty prompts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

“No… no second thoughts. To be honest, I thought I had an appointment with a female piercer,” you answer, preemptively grimacing before you’d even finished your sentence.

“Oh, shit. Well, that’s not ideal. Listen, we can get you in here another day then, no problem. Tell me what works for you,” he says, already scrambling for a pencil to put your name elsewhere in the book.

“Actually, I think it’s fine. I’m already here, right?” you offer, shrugging to try and appear more nonchalant about the whole thing (your palms are sweating).

“Are you sure? Seriously, I don’t want you uncomfortable on my watch. It’s not a big deal to get you a different appointment,” he frowns, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers.

His eyes are strangely soft for someone with such an intimidating job, you can only describe the feeling they give you as melting. You can’t quite place why, but his presence alone is somehow quelling your nerves, even if it’s just a bit. Your hands start to still, dropping to rest at your sides as you decide to let him do it anyway. He looks trustworthy, right?

“Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, truly,” you say, a soft smile pulling at your lips at how keen he seems on making you comfortable.

Matty nods slowly, rising from the chair while eyeing you like he’s not sure if you’re going to turn on your heel and run out the door if he looks away. He asks you to follow him to the back, you’re trailing close behind as he pulls his baggy camo pants further up his hips by his belt. The room he leads you to is small and fairly chilly, but only in temperature. The space itself feels homey, plastered with stickers and posters of various punk bands, it doesn’t feel like some sterile hospital room.

“Stay standin’ for me, just need to get some things,” he instructs, turning to reach for his supplies, including the jewelry you’d selected over the phone, “and, whenever you’re ready you can take your top off, okay?”

Without the pressure of his eyes on you, it takes a moment before you slowly ease your shirt up and over your shoulders, setting it beside you. You take a slightly uneven breath as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra, suddenly forgetting the muscle memory from doing it for so many years. The moment it’s off, the rush of cold air instantly sends a shiver licking up your spine. You lean back against the counter, trying to appear as casual as you can as you eye the piercer. Your eyebrows slope with admiration, softening your expression as you realize that he’s now aimlessly fishing through a drawer, trying to give you time to ease into undressing while he’s still turned around. He stays with his back to you until you clear your throat, signaling that you’ve finished. His expression is unphased as he turns around on the heels of his platformed lace-up boots. God, he really is beyond cool, isn’t he?

“Right, I’m gonna put these on, and then I’ll mark the placement,” Matty explains, holding up a pair of latex gloves.

Matty pulls the gloves over his sizeable hands, the bulging veins catching your eye as he flexes his fingers to test that they’re taught. He’s taking a few steps closer to you, now only about an arm's length away as he explains that he’s not going to touch you without the gloves, though of course, your first unfiltered thought is that you wish he would. His eyes hadn’t strayed from your face for even a second this whole time, being remarkably neutral despite the fact that you were topless. Though, you suppose that sort of thing must not phase him since he’s probably pierced tons of nipples. That doesn’t stop the odd tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even glanced at your body. You swallow the feeling like it’s bile, knowing that it’s totally unreasonable to want him to gaze at you with anything but professionalism.

“Is it okay if I put my hands on you? Need to clean the area,” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, it’s making you slightly weak in the knees, he’s just so fucking gentle.

You nod, rolling your shoulders back in preparation for him to touch you while he pours solvent on a cotton pad. His disciplined, gloved hands reach out, and only now does he allow his gaze to dip down to your chest. You could swear his breath hitches just a little, the quiet room allowing for the smallest sounds to be heard. Maybe he is just a man after all. The thought makes pride simmer in your chest, but you’re not dwelling on it for long, your mind going blank the moment he starts to swiftly swipe the pad along your nipples, sanitizing your skin and also effectively making them harden from the stimulation. You tense up, standing straighter than before as you bite back any semblance of a reaction. Matty throws you a glance to assess your discomfort, soft brown irises following the slopes of your features. He places the sanitizing supplies to the side, now uncapping a purple skin marker. This was going to be a long process if he kept looking at you that way.

“Nothing's happening yet, okay? Just gonna draw on where they’re gonna go,” he says, holding it up while raising his eyebrows as if to say “Look, it’s harmless”.

Matty leans in again, his eyes narrowing with concentration, gloved knuckles brushing the side of your breast as he marks a dot on the side of your nipple. Watching Matty stare at your tits with such laser focus has your cheeks flushing just slightly, heat prickling at the bridge of your nose. He runs the tip of the marker from one side of the hardened bud to the other, marking a symmetrical dot. Tingles spread under your skin like wildfire, he’s barely touched you and yet you can feel yourself buzzing at the slightest sensations. His pretty brown eyes meet yours and he just smiles at you sympathetically, knowing how hyperfocused on his every movement you must be.

“You’re not breathing,” he whispers, playfully jabbing the capped end of the pen against your arm.

Your eyes widen as you realize that he’s absolutely right, you’d been holding your breath this whole time. You release your bated breath, your chest heaving slightly as Matty keeps looking down at you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You swear the eye contact while being inches away from him is making you more lightheaded than the lack of oxygen. With a satisfied nod, he resumes, repeating the same process of drawing the dots at the peak of your other breast. Then, he takes a step back, biting the cap of the marker between his canines while he evaluates his work. This allows you another moment to admire him as he eyeballs the symmetricalness of his markings. Your mind is wandering, perhaps trying to distract you from how intently this man is studying your breasts. You’re wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t so gentle with you. What if he touched you instead with greed, the need to satiate himself? In your head, you imagine the warm, honey tones of his eyes darkening like tinted glass as he drinks you in not as his client, but as something to desire, to want to feel flush beneath his calloused fingertips. This version of Matty doesn’t try to limit every graze of his working hands, he’s starving; groping, and mapping every part of your skin that he can reach. You’re jumping the gun now, the image flashes through your mind like a ricocheting bullet: Matty’s got you pressed up against the wall, his hands are mean as he grabs a handful of one of your tits, his thigh is hitched between your legs, keeping your thighs parted. His head dips down, his shaggy mohawk tickling at your neck as he tugs on the silver barbell through your nipple with his teeth, pain melding with pleasure till they’re impossible to separate. And, oh, fuck, does he have a tongue piercing? Your eyes flick down to his mouth now, mind reeling as you spot the silver stud on his tongue revealed by the way he’s chewing on the cap of the marker. You are losing yourself, and fast, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, looks just about even. Would you go ahead and lie down there, darlin’?” he asks, cocking his head towards the reclined padded chair next to him.

Now is where the nerves are starting to kick in, it’s all fun and fantasizing about your body piercer until you actually have to sit in the chair. You were hardly able to mentally fawn over the pet name as you took unsure strides to situate yourself in the cold, plastic parlor recliner. Matty busies himself with preparing various metal objects while you stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the fluorescent lights and wondering why you wanted your tits pierced so badly in the first place. Then, his unreasonably darling face is in your field of vision, peering down at you with a consoling smile.

“Comfy?” he prompts, a needle in one hand and a small pair of forceps in the other.

It’s not a comforting sight, no matter how lovely the man holding them is.

“Sorta. I’m actually kind of a chicken about these things,” you admit with a wobbly smile in return.

“No… really?” he grins boyishly, clearly being sarcastic with you.

You shoot him a look for that, but it melts away into a little laugh, you can’t seem to even fake a cold stare around him, it’s sort of pitiful. Standing over you, Matty raises the forceps close to your breasts but doesn’t touch you with them just yet. You bite your lip, lifting your head to get a better look at what’s happening, even though you’re not entirely sure you even want to watch.

“Now, this is just going to feel like a little pinch, shouldn’t hurt,” he says, his voice lowering a little before he slips in a: “You’re doing really good.”

The praise tears your gaze away from his hands and onto his face, blinking in disbelief at the way he’d caused a fizzling pang of desire inside you so effortlessly. That feeling doesn’t get any weaker the moment you feel the cool metal clamp around your nipple, your lips parting with a soft gasp, hands tensing with the urge to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Matty’s pierced tongue darts out past his lips in concentration, soothing over his bottom lip as he lines the needle up next to the hardened bud. You jolt at the sharp tip of the object against your sensitive skin, your hand shooting out to grab onto Matty’s bicep in a moment of pure reaction. Both of you seem equally shocked that you’d suddenly clutched his arm, your nails slightly biting into his skin amongst the spattering of pretty freckles that mark him. There’s a moment of the loudest silence you’ve ever heard, his stare feels like it’s searing you. You’re about to rush into apologizing, but then he’s placing his tools back down onto his tray of supplies, tentatively reaching to rest his larger hand over yours, enveloping it in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m just lining up my shot. I’m gonna tell you when it’s time, okay? Just breathe with me for a moment,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing tenderly over the back of your hand.

He takes an exaggerated breath, encouraging you to do the same, his chest rising beneath his white tank top. You mirror Matty, taking a deep breath in of, well… him. He smells like a dizzying combination of Marlboros and woody aftershave because of course, he does.

“That’s it, much better. It’ll be a whole fuckin’ ordeal if you pass out on me, so stay with me here. Can you do that?” he questions, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah… yeah, I can. Thank you,” you say softly, trying to disregard the sparks radiating under Matty’s palm.

You stay like this for a few breaths longer, Matty doesn’t look away from you and you’re not so sure that it’s only because he doesn’t want you to conk out. His gloved hand gives yours an encouraging squeeze before letting go slowly. The heat still lingers as he retrieves his tools a second time, the flexing of his bicep under your grasp reminds you that you should probably let go of him now. But, the moment you start to retract your hand, he glances at you and speaks in that silky tone of his.

“You don’t have to let go, s’okay. You can use me like a stress toy, or something. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, winking at you.

You just nod dumbly, your eyes going a little wider as you settle your hand over his bare arm again, right over the top of his Newcastle United seahorse tattoo. You’d like to use him in other ways too, but that’s not very appropriate, now is it?

You let out a sigh as you come to the same point in the process again, Matty lining up the needle diligently while keeping your nipple clamped with the metal forceps, but this time, you get to cling to his arm. You don’t want to distract him, because it would be your loss in the end, but there is a sense of satisfaction when you feel his bicep flex slightly as you trace your thumb along the symbol inked on his skin, following the curve of the seahorses mane with your nail.

“Okay, love. Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to do it on three, and when I say three, I need you to take a sharp breath in for me, like this,” he instructs, then shows you what he means with a harsh inhale through his nose.

You breathe out a weak “okay”, already gripping his arm harder from the anticipation building up to a high. You decide it’s best not to watch, especially since you’d promised you wouldn’t pass out. You let your head rest back against the chair, your nose scrunching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Matty begins to count down, increasing the pressure of the clamp. 1. 2. 3. You inhale sharply through your nose at the same time that an unprecedented amount of burning pain reverberates through your chest, your eyes snapping open. You’re clawing at his arm, a cry ripping past your lips while tears well up and blur your vision. It’s a feeling so intense that it’s seeping through you to your stomach, crawling like the meanest sunburn. Of all the piercings you’ve gotten, you can say without a doubt that this takes first prize for the most painful.

“Oh, fuck!” you sob, the sound being embarrassingly close to a full-bodied moan.

Matty slides the jewelry through while swiftly retracting the needle, trying to stifle the way the sound you’d made was affecting him, echoing in his skull in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He doesn’t even flinch despite the way your nails are leaving angry, red crescents marred on his skin. He quickly screws the barbell together before completely retracting his hands from you, taking one more glance at his handiwork before consoling you, his heart seemingly aching for the pretty girl in his chair.

“I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, but you’re halfway done. Doing so good, you’re alright,” he murmurs, reaching the gloved back of his hand to your face to wipe some of the stray tears on your cheeks.

You just whine, the radiating pain only now starting to subside as you keep your hold on his arm, now smoothing over the marks you’d left with your fingertips as if you’re kissing them better. His thumb grazes along your cheek for a little too long for it to be accidental. Matty’s praise while he wipes away your tears is making your mind fuzzy, it’s like he’s numbing the pain; the sweetest morphine.

Your gasps for breath are slowing, the pain like a dull pulse, easing its grip on you. Mortification is starting to sink in now that you’re not reeling from shooting pain. One of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen just watched you in one of your most vulnerable moments, and there’s still one piercing to go, much to your dismay.

“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” you admit with a breathy laugh at your own expense.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. You could’ve done much worse, probably,” he says, looking amused as he shakes his head at you.

“Like what?” “I dunno… like, socked me in the face as a fight or flight response.”

You laugh at that, a bright sound filling the room that makes Matty’s smile grow fonder as he gazes down at you with those pretty, sparkly eyes. The moment lingers on for a few beats, tension blooming between you that almost makes you forget about the throbbing ache of your left breast (almost).

“You do know I have to do the other one right? Unless you’re a bit odd and like the one-piercing look,” he reminds cautiously over the clinking metallic sound of him picking up his tools.

“I know,” you sigh, “can you do it fast?”

“Erm… I’ll do it as quickly as I can without making it cockeyed, but I reckon you’ll be fine. Besides, the second one’s always easier from what I’ve seen.”

He doesn’t seem like the type that would elude you for the sake of false security, so you take his word as gospel, settling in to prepare yourself for what’s hopefully a more tolerable experience. His next words have your heart thrumming against your ribs.

“Can you handle it?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

You nod at him quietly, absentmindedly drawing little feather-light swirls on his bicep. The incentive of his praise is becoming all too tempting. You want to handle it, you want to show him that you can do it. There’s a new, honeyed kind of heat seeping into your bones.

“Good girl. You’re a strong one, love,” he praises, sensing just how eager you are.

The next pulse you feel doesn’t come from your chest. Good girl? He has to be fucking with you. Jesus, does he talk to all of his customers like this? Does he wipe all of their tears too? Something in you wants to believe he doesn’t. He watches as your lips part slowly, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. You have to know.

“Do you call all your customers that?” you whisper, blinking up at him coyly.

“Not really, no. Only the pretty ones who deserve it.”

Your breath comes out as a shudder, it’s unfair how easily he leaves you stunned. He clicks his tongue casually before getting back to work, all too pleased by the look on your face. You know the routine by now, Matty makes quick work of clamping your nipple and arranging the prodding tip of the needle just so. You’re still clinging to his arm, or your personal stress toy, something you’ve grown very familiar to the feel of throughout your time here. The countdown starts, he’s not giving you as much time to prepare. 1. 2. 3. What was more like a shriek from earlier comes out as a whine this time, a high-pitched, whimpery noise spilling from you. You don’t curse or practically maul his arm this time, but it’s still painful, you can’t say you’re fond of how vividly you can feel the needle go in and out amidst the burning sting.

“Beautiful, atta girl,” he whispers, screwing the end of the barbell on before leaning back to admire his work, his eyes unabashedly glued to how the jewelry sits prettily on your breasts.

You have no clue if he’s talking about you, your tits, or the job he’d done, but it makes your skin warm all the same.

Finally, you allow yourself to look at your chest, gently sliding your hand off of his bicep to prop yourself up on your arms and get a good look at the two new adornments. Shit, they look good on you, better than you’d hoped, and perfectly symmetrical thanks to him. He smirks when he notices the way you’re gawking at the piercings, knowing that the pain is barely a thought in your mind now, too distracted by how newly desirable you must feel. Matty likes knowing that one, he’s good at his job, and two, that he’s just helped you feel sexier. He’s really enjoying watching you admire yourself and in turn, his work. There’s a slight stir beneath his baggy pants, which he knows should never happen while he’s with a client, but you might just be the sweetest thing that’s ever been in his chair. He’s allowing himself a pass.

“Shit, Matty, they’re really nice,” you gape, your stomach swooping when you glance up to see the smug look playing on his lips.

“Yeah, they came out mint. Suit you nicely, don’t they?” he says, daring to dance along the line of being unprofessional as he then glances down at your tits and whistles.

What a boy.

“Thank you… for everything I mean.”

“Don’t mention it, you were great,” Matty smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he waves off your gushing.

Butterflies are rampaging in your stomach, god, why does he have to be so lovely? He looks like he has something he wants to say, but it goes unspoken, rattling around in his head instead. His expression is hard to read, but would you be deluding yourself to say there’s a tinge of longing? A few beats of quiet tick by, and you’re now becoming acutely aware of the fact that you no longer have a reason to be topless, awkwardly crossing your arms. Always so attentive, Matty suddenly straightens up and reaches over your body, his chain dangling in front of your face as he grabs your shirt and bra from the counter. He places them on your lap and politely turns away as if he’s never seen you undressed, clearing his throat like that will clear the thick tension in the air.

You wince as soon as the cups of your bra meet your immensely tender breasts, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as you power through clasping it. The sensitivity is something you’d been warned about, and now you get to joyfully experience it firsthand for the next however many weeks. Your eyes are on Matty’s back as you slip your shirt over your head, taking note of how rigid he seems as he gathers the after-piercing care papers for you. But maybe it’s in your head. You haven’t known him very long at all, it’s a dangerous game to assume any of the tension of this afternoon was real when you were freaking out for more than half of it.

“Right, any questions for me?” he asks, striding over to hand you the pages.

Are you single?Can we go out?Should we make out right now?How are you real?

“No, I think I’m alright.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not woozy, you can go ahead and stand up when you’re ready,” he says, clasping his hands together as if he’s wrapping up his job well done.

With the care pamphlet in one hand, you start to slowly swing your legs over to the side, noticing the way Matty stands at attention like he’s ready to catch you if your legs give out. But they don’t, you’re able to stand with minimal wobbles, shaking out your hands to try and relax your poor, recovering body.

The walk back to the front of the parlor is quiet, the both of you trying to grapple with the tension you couldn’t quite leave behind in the chair. There’s not much else to say, is there? You’re both standing next to the door now, and Matty retracts one of his hands from within his pockets to hold it out to you. Nothing says “I just blurred the lines of professionality while piercing your tits and now this is goodbye” like a good old handshake, does it? You try to keep your expression neutral even though this all feels quite bittersweet, grasping his hand with a firm shake. It’s the first time you’ve felt his hand without the latex glove between you, they’re soft, but you can tell he works with his hands, the callouses on his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Lovely to meet you, sorry I wasn’t a chick,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you too. And don’t worry about that, I’m glad it was you,” you reply, perhaps being a little too sincere, but it feels right to say.

“... well, listen, get home safe, alright? Take care of yourself, call if you have any problems,” he says, once again seeming like he’s biting his tongue, keeping himself from saying something to you.

You reach for the handle of the door, but you don’t open it. You look back at him like you’re giving him one more chance to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, but he doesn’t, he just offers a nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Heartache.

“See you, Matty,” you nod in return, opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You evaluate your situation on the walk back to your car. You’ve rid yourself of the urge to get your tits pierced, and they look fantastic, but your new problem is that you have a massive crush on your body piercer that you’re likely never going to see again unless you get another piercing. It’d be a rather expensive hobby to get a piercing just to see his face, so scratch that. Your only option is to be reminded of him every time you take your shirt off, how miserable is that?

Little do you know, the moment the shop door closed behind you, Matty groaned with his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not asking you out, or at least getting your number. Sure, you were a client, he had to be careful, but shit, you weren’t just any client, now were you? What was wrong with him? Something about you left the body piercer stiff and tongue-tied, replaying every moment of your encounter back in his mind. Never in his life had Matty Healy felt anything for a customer.

—---One month later—----

After a hellish month of healing, scabbing, and getting your piercings caught on things, you’ve decided that there’s no real point in having nipple piercings if no one gets to see them but you. You’d like to tell yourself that you don’t think about Matty as much anymore, but that would be laughably dishonest. Dating apps are just about one of the most aggravating wastes of time ever, and you’ve had no luck meeting people naturally, so here comes the next best thing: blind dates. Your close friend fancies herself to be somewhat of a matchmaker, she’s been talking up this guy to you for days now, telling you how funny and totally your type he is, and nothing could possibly go wrong if she set you up. You have your doubts, but still, you find yourself in a cafe waiting for your mystery man to sweep you off your feet with his supposed punchy one-liners. What you don’t expect, however, is to watch a very familiar mohawked man stride into the place, the eyes that have patronized your dreams every night scanning across the cafe until they lock onto you.

—----------------------------------------------

Don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging with just tension, ofc there’s going to be a smutty part two <3

Thank you very much for reading, I hope it wasn’t underwhelming! And thank you to any other writers that I reached out to to consult about my ideas, ily, mwah!

#oh god I’m nervous about this one #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #body piercer!Matty

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politemenacephd · 1 year ago

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Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can’t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again.

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

��I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

Link to next part!

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