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corpsebasil · 1 year

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Karma Part 4 aka the FINALE

with his life in your hands, it’s up to you to be with the masked killer you’ve grown to love

He held onto you, glaring with a ferocity you’d never seen before at Detective Bailey and Quinn.

Quinn, who was back from the dead, and Bailey, who was… You glanced up at Ethan’s face, examining his features for any resemblance. Ethan’s father. Ethan stood between you and the others, Sam and Tara both armed with bricks. They’d been stunned to realize Ethan was a Ghostface—more so when they realized you knew. But in your hurried explanations, that he’d defended you, hadn’t killed anyone else, their hate turned into uncomfortable apprehension.

“That bitch,” Quinn was saying, pointing her knife at you. “should’ve been my kill. I had her, E. Where the hell do you get off attacking me?”

“I told you to leave her alone.” He argued, still keeping one arm around you as he glared at his sister. He hadn’t worn the costume; he’d burned it, actually, right after the two of you had… “She’s mine. You can’t take her away from me. Not this one, one thing in my life that’s worth a damn.”

“She’s a girl, Ethan.” Quinn growled, still glaring at you. “What did that little slut do to change your mind? Did she spread her—”

“Shut up, Quinn.” Ethan’s tone was lethal. “You want her, you can go through me.”

Tara was backing away, passing a brick into your hand as you stood stock still, watching the two siblings trade verbal blows. You had goosebumps across your skin; Quinn, the girl you’d done makeup with before school, the girl with whom you’d had a Dunkin tradition on Sunday mornings, had tried to kill you? You two weren’t extremely close, but you thought that she’d liked you, at a minimum.

“Why Quinn?” You asked, voice raw as you stared at the ginger. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You were never supposed to be involved.” Detective Bailey cut his daughter off, casting his steely gaze to your own. You shrank underneath the weight of his stare. “Here’s the deal, young lady. Get out now, leave Ethan to us, and you can live. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

Your eyes cut to Ethan’s. His gaze was pained as he looked at you; when he slowly nodded his head, you balked.

“They can do whatever they want to me.” He murmured, brown eyes scanning your face. “As long as you’re safe.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes widening. “no, E, I’m not gonna—”

“Let them have him.” Sam ordered you, and you glanced over, horror filling your expression. “He deserves it. Get out of here, Y/N.”

“I won’t.” You snapped, staring at your friend. “How could you ask me that? What if I asked you to leave Danny?” You spun to Tara, her own expression twisted. “Or Chad?”

“Chad is dead.” She said, voice tight.

“We don’t both have to lose people today.” You pleaded, looping your arms tighter around Ethan. “You can fuck yourself.” You told Quinn, and her expression promised violence. “And you.” You looked to Bailey, glaring harder. “You’re the most pathetic excuse for a father I’ve ever met.”

“You had your chance.” Bailey said, and nodded to Quinn, who lunged.

Sam and Tara swung with their bricks as Ethan hauled you away, your breath hitching as he tugged you back, back, back, your heart rate spiking to a dangerous level. And then Quinn, god knows how, was there, having had escaped Sam and Tara, and shouted a curse at the two of you.

“Join your bitch in hell.” Quinn snarled and slashed out.

Your world shrank to pinpoint.

You screamed, screamed, as the blade tore through Ethan’s abdomen. He staggered backwards, choking on a gasp, and dropped to the floor. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe as the boy you were in love with clutched as his middle, blood seeping rapidly out of the wound.

“Fuck you.” Quinn said, pointing her knife at you.

“Fuck you.” You spat back, and swung your brick.

You barely felt the impact.

She fell to the ground, teeth knocked out, but you didn’t stop. You felt insane—utterly insane as you slammed the makeshift weapon home over and over and over. You didn’t realize you were keening, tears running hot down your face, until someone grabbed your collar and yanked you away.

“No!” You gasped, the brick falling from your bloodied fingers, and Sam smacked you across the face so fast and violent your teeth cut into your cheek.

“Calm down.” She ordered, shaking you by the shoulders when she faced you. “Calm the fuck down. She’s dead. Christ.”

“Ethan—” You choked out, pointing, and Sam’s concerned stare turned hateful as she looked at him. “Sam please.” You begged, fighting her grasp so you could move towards him. He was laying flat on his back now, face screwed up with pain, his hand trembling against his wound. “Please please. I won’t ask you for anything else. Just help me.” She followed your eyes to the closest exit. If you could just get him to the hallway, maybe you could somehow break out. “Please I cant live without—”

“God, fine.” She snapped, letting go of you to help lift him. You had no idea where Bailey or Tara was but, based on the fact that you’d just bashed his daughter’s skull in with a brick and his son had betrayed him, you weren’t sure if he was going to stick around.

The two of you moved to Ethan, lifting him by the shoulders and tugging him towards the hall. A moan of pain left his lips and you choked back a sob, tears filling your eyes as you looked down at him. You were muttering reassurances, trying to convince the both of you it was okay, when Sam left to find her sister.

You kept him tucked in the corner of the hall, as far away from the fight as you could manage, as you slowly peeled up his shirt. You almost gagged. Short of his guts hanging out the wound was devastating, and you saw the tears in his eyes as he trembled.

“Baby,” you touched his face, his sleepy eyes moving to your own. “baby what do I do? I don’t know how to—”

“Duct tape.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “My backpack. Use the—the duct tape.”

You dove for his backpack, rummaging through it until you found the desired material. You yanked off a strip and began taping his abdomen shut, trying not to retch when his cries of pain met your ears. You were crying steadily now, your hands shaking, when there was finally nothing left to tape up.

“Can you—” Ethan swallowed, his speech slurring as he panted. “Just, stay with me? I just…want to be with you when..”

“No.” You shook your head, sliding onto the ground beside him and looping an arm over his chest. You pressed your face against his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m not leaving you. I cant.”

“You know I love you, Y/N.” He murmured, and you choked back a sob, your lips pressing kisses against his neck and shoulder. And then you tensed, hearing the click of a gun, and turned.

“Isn’t this a pretty picture.” Detective Bailey mused, gun at his side. “A real Romeo and Juliet story.” He pointed the gun at Ethan and you practically snarled at the man, shielding his body the best you could with your own. “You threw it all away on some girl.” He sneered, glaring at his son, who gripped your arm as hard as he could.

“Y/N, go.” Ethan breathed, wincing as he fought to prop himself up.

“You wanna kill him?” You asked, glaring at his father. How such an amazing boy came out of him, you had no idea. “Shoot me first.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He replied, aiming for your head, and you stared with defiance as Ethan gasped, your ears vaguely picking up his begging protests.

The gunshot went off.

Bailey lurched to the side, dropping to the ground, as Sam stood before you, a gun of her own pointed at the bastard’s head. You were panting, heart racing, sure you were seconds away from following your boyfriend into death.

“He talks too much.” Sam muttered, and looked to you, concern filling her eyes. “Y/N, get up.”

“No.”

“Y/N, he’s not going to make it we need to—”

You felt feral. Absolutely wild as you glared at her, your grip on his hand, the hand that had reached out to hold yours during your execution, tightening.

“Help him. Help him and I’ll come with you.” You felt miserable as you laid your head back on his shoulder, your mouth quivering as you held him as tight as you dared with his injuries. “Ethan, come on. Stay awake for me.”

He grunted in response, turning his head to kiss your own, and Sam made a sound of both annoyance and defeat.

“Seriously? We need to—”

Doors burst open somewhere and you tensed, watching as officers entered the room led by Danny. You could’ve sobbed in relief as you saw medics entering, Sam immediately directing them your way. You murmured the updates to Ethan, whose eyes were closed, before you stilled. He was completely cold.

“E?” You whispered, sitting up. Without your presence his head lolled to the side; Ethan’s skin had gone pale and, when you picked up his hand, it felt limp in your own. “Ethan?” Your vision went white.

You were vaguely aware of the medics moving around you as you stared, ears ringing, at the boy that you loved. The boy that was dead.

“Sweetheart?” Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked slowly. “Sweetheart, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

You pointed at Ethan—no, tried to point, because your body refused to move. You just stared. Stared and stared, as hands gripped you under the arms and lifted you. And then Danny was scooping you up, your eyes never leaving Ethan as the medic closest to him pressed her fingers to his neck, another examining the duct tape.

You turned away.

It had been four months since the theater attack.

Four months since you’d had to fight for anything—since you’d needed to fight. But now you stood in your apartment, breathing deeply, the weapon at your side clenched tight in your hand.

Your enemy stood hardly ten feet away, glaring back at you with just as much ferocity. His dark eyes never left your own as you spoke, forcing as much bravado as you could into your tone.

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire.”

The boy snorted, his eyes lighting up with wry amusement.

“Your new empire?”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Y/N, my allegiance is to the Republic. To Democracy!

You clicked the button on your battery-operated lightsaber at the same time as Ethan, and tried not to laugh.

“If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” He snapped back, taking a step forward. “I will do what I must—”

“AHHH!” You shrieked, charging, before Ethan had hardly gotten the last word out. He yelped as you tossed away your lightsaber and jumped on him, toppling the both of you to the ground.

“Hey, hey!” He protested, rolling you onto the living-room floor. He pinned your arms with his hands and shook his head, staring at you with disbelief. “You had another line. One more line. You always do that.”

“Next time I’ll be Obi-Wan.” You giggled, squirming around in his grasp.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” He asked, rolling his eyes, and moved off. “Can we watch the trilogy next? I wanna see Kylo Ren.”

“Ugh.” You groaned, reluctantly moving to your feet as he went to make popcorn in your kitchen. “Can we watch something else? What about a Barbie movie?”

“Absolutely not.” Ethan scoffed, turning to give you a comically disturbed look. “You tortured me last week with that marathon.”

“It was only, like, the best ones.”

“It was seven hours. Seven hours of singing and dresses and—”

“Ethaaan.” You whined, dashing over to wrap your arms around his waist. “Don’t you love me?”

“Obviously.”

“Then what’s one more Barbie movie?”

“Dear God.” He rubbed his eyes as you hugged him tighter, turning your head to press kisses to his chest. “Fine. Fine. But I’m picking it out.”

“You always give in.”

“I cant resist you.”

You smiled as he ran his hand over your cheek and kissed you, his other hand slipping into your hair to tug your head back. You let out a sigh as you sank into him, your fingers moving to run along his waist, then under his shirt and— You stiffened and he moved back.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked a few times. Then you lifted the material of his shirt up, eyes running across the long, slightly raised scar on his abdomen. You ran a hand over your mouth and dropped his shirt, avoiding his eyes when he tugged you straight back into his arms.

“I’m fine, now. Remember?” He jostled you a tiny bit, a calm smile still on his face. “I’m fine, Y/N.”

It had taken weeks of therapy. Many, many times where you forced yourself to hang out with your friends. And way too many nights sleeping in a hospital chair, waiting for Ethan to recover.

The doctors said that it was a miracle he’d survived. That he must’ve been holding on to something—that he was a fighter. And now that he was healed physically, the both of you were doing your best to heal mentally, as well.

“Y/N?” Ethan cupped your face and looked at you, eyes scanning your own. “Together, remember? We get through this together?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed, ignoring the tightness in your chest. “Always.”

“Then let’s go watch a damn princess movie.” He smirked at you as you let out a trembling laugh, then you squeaked as he planted aggressive kisses all over your face, not freeing you until you were wiggling away from him. “Love you.” Ethan said, pulling you close, and kissed you again.

HELLOOO THE END AND THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT STUCK AROUND

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mandosaur · 11 months

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New Rules (Miguel O'Hara / Reader)

Fandom: Across the Spider-Verse

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara / Reader

Word Count: 11,320

Estimated Reading Time: 40:58

Summary:

“No.”

Her voice is firm and she jabs a finger at your chest.

“Do not do that. Hit ignore. Block him. Toss the thing at the wall. Do not answer.”

Lyla calls again and sends an alert that Miguel is trying to contact you.

“Hit ignore! Don’t do it!” Gia reaches out for your watch.

You stand abruptly. It’s a stupid, stupid choice. You know it is. Gia is right, you should just chuck the thing in a garbage bag.

But you still fish your phone out of Gia’s purse and toss some cash at the bar.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

Your on and off again friends with benefits arrangement with Miguel comes to a close, but you just can’t seem to let him go.

Loosely based off “New Rules” by Dua Lipa.

“One: Don't pick up the phone You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone Two: Don't let him in You'll have to kick him out again Three: Don't be his friend You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him.” “New Rules” by Dua Lipa.

—————

The outfit you’ve picked out for yourself tonight looks great. It’s a red little number that’s been in your closet for ages aching to be worn. You weren’t sure when you bought it how it would look like on you, but it makes you feel great when you catch a sight of yourself in the mirror. You look attractive, hot, and it steels some of your resolve as you head down to where you and your friend agreed to meet.

If you were being honest, you’ve really needed a confidence boost these past few days. The heart ache nestled deep in your chest wouldn’t go away and simply touring New York looking for villains of the week to fight wasn’t cutting it.

A sigh leaves your lips as you find yourself in a bar downtown. Gia, your roommate, has selected a bar for you both to have dinner at. It’s relatively quiet tonight with only a handful of people, yet it still offers plenty of distraction. You may not have been enthusiastic about going out, but you can appreciate having something else to put your mind to.

Although you can’t tell Gia the truth about your recent stint with heartbreak, she knows the details. She knows you had a little fling going on with a guy who checked all your boxes but just wasn’t willing to commit. He’d take you into his bed then leave before the sun rose. It was a never ending push and pull.

Gia didn’t understand why you couldn’t just block the guy and be done with it. She had already chastised you for your “lack of self control” and “frustrating addiction” to pain.

Of course, she didn’t know Miguel.

Miguel. The man who had come into your universe and invited you into his elite little Spider-Man task force to hunt for anomalies. The man who seemed to understand what loss was better than anyone and made you feel seen. Perhaps the only person who knew you better than you.

Gia didn’t get the song and dance you had around him because she didn’t know what it was like to exist as a masked vigilante losing everyone around you. She didn’t know how lonely it was or how sometimes you couldn’t tell who was under the mask. Or if there even was a part of you left that wasn’t just tied to your responsibilities as a hero.

Miguel was the only one who got you. The two of you had clicked like puzzle pieces after meeting. He favored you over the others and had moments where he seemed like he loved you back. Being with him was like finally finding a piece of yourself that you hadn’t realized was missing.

When the two of you had started sleeping together, you had been hopeful. Perhaps the little arrangement between you both would lead to something new. Hell, there had been plenty of moments where he had seemed softer outside of the bedroom and quite a few times you’d catch him staring with a look of affection-

But then everything would go wrong. The moment the two of you got close outside of a biblical sense, he’d pull back. Close you out and end things with you. You’d go days without speaking to each other feeling miserable and heart broken only to be suddenly called back by him.

He’d pull you back in like a magnet and sleep with you over and over again until the next time you ventured too close and he shoved you aside once more.

It was a very painful back and forth, yet you couldn’t find it in you to end things permanently. Not when he took up a large part of your heart, and not when he was your boss of all things.

Currently, you were on the outs again. He’d called it off a few days ago after a bad mission. He’d come back to HQ in a horrible mood and everyone else had suffered for it. When you’d walked up to his office to check in on him, he had snapped at you to leave. His words had been harsh and cold. He had ordered you to stop acting like his girlfriend, constantly checking in and taking care of him like a child, and reminded you that nothing existed between you other than two adults satisfying some urges.

His words had been a blow to your heart and you had left HQ suppressing tears. Gwen and Hobie had watched you go with sympathy, and Jess had mercifully delayed your missions for a while to give you time to recover. Either that or Miguel had ordered her to keep you away from him.

So, naturally, your best friend had suggested you go out for some drinks. Gia didn’t know about your alter ego or quite who Miguel was, but she knew enough to declare him undeserving of you and promised you’d find someone else.

You look up briefly when Gia arrives. She looks stunning in the neon dress she’s wearing and has done her hair in an elaborate style. There’s a happy grin on her face as she slides in the booth opposite of you and you envy her joy.

She calls your name and hugs you over the table.

“You look hot today!” She remarks.

You offer her your best smile which isn’t much. Already, you can feel some of your earlier apprehension return. You have no energy to be out and about with people. Tonight would have been so much better had you been able to curl up in bed with a box of tissues and some ice cream.

“Meet any cute people?” Gia asks. She rummages through the fries you’ve ordered while scanning the bar.

There’s a group of guys in one corner who eye her with appreciation. You think you catch one looking at you too, but you turn away uninterested. The guy seems handsome, but his eyes aren’t red and he doesn’t have two sets of fangs. He’s not the one you desperately want.

“I’m not feeling too social today,” you admit. You twirl your straw wrapper pensively.

Gia gives you a look with a deadpan expression. You know what she’s thinking. She finds it frustrating you can’t just let Miguel go. She doesn’t get why you’re so hung up on him.

But you are. You genuinely have fallen for him in your time working together. He’s showed you parts of him he’s never showed others. He’s told you about Gaby and how he raised her as a single father in her dimension for months before losing her. He’s told you about how he got his powers and the doubts that come with it. He’s shared his canon events with you and opened up to you about the stress he’s in with holding up the entire multiverse.

He’s let you in where he’s shut others out. You know he feels something for you, are sure of it deep in your bones, but he’s just not willing to admit it to himself. That’s what makes it all so frustrating. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is torture, but loving someone who does yet won’t allow it for themselves is a death sentence.

Gia sighs and the sound rouses you out of your thoughts. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes tightly.

“You have really got to get back out there, babe. He’s not the only man in the world. He’s not adding to your life,” she shakes her head.

You look down at your hands.

“You know I can’t,” you murmur.

A part of you wishes you could. If you could flick a switch and let him go, you’d do it. You’d be better off forgetting all about him. It would save you so much heart ache, but your feelings run deep. He’s captured you completely, tangled you up in his web, and you can’t let him go.

Gia thrusts a hand out at you with a look of impatience. She wiggles her fingers and waits expectantly.

“Gia-“

“Ah, ah, you know the drill. Phone.”

You give her a glare but pass your phone over. Gia has insisted on confiscating it since your last break up. She doesn’t want you to be tempted to call Miguel. Of course, your watch is the only real way to connect with him because of the differences in universes, but you’re certainly not going to tell her that.

Instead, you purse your lips when she slides your phone into her purse and watch as she leans forward. She has a gleam in her eye when she surveys the bar. She’s watching every person carefully trying to assess who’s worth your time.

Eventually, she zeroes in on the guy from before. He’s broken off with his friends and is now sitting alone at the bar. Nursing a glass of something amber, he catches Gia’s eye as he throws another look your way.

You don’t even have time to react before Gia is yanking you up by your hand. She’s pitching you forward before you can even blink. You half wonder if she’s the one with superpowers and not you when you suddenly find yourself in front of the guy.

Gia waves the bartender forward and not so subtly shoves you towards the guy. You catch yourself on his chair with a hiss of her name.

“You alright?” The stranger blinks up at you in surprise.

“I am so sorry,” you hold your hands up, “My friend is drunk-“

Gia swoops in and tosses an arm around your shoulder. She has the same mischievous grin she wore back in college every time she had some idea terrible she was cooking up. It’s gotten you into some trouble before and scares you now.

“Hey, you look like you could use some company. My friend here just left her asshole ex. Why don’t you two catch up while I get us some drinks?” She pats your shoulder and is gone in a whirlwind of energy.

You could melt into the floor out of humiliation.

“OhgodGia,” you groan. You don’t even want to look at the stranger out of sheer embarrassment.

The stranger coughs lightly in surprise before offering you a smile. He blinks in Gia’s wake before offering his hand.

“Oh wow,” he remarks with his own blush, “Well that was subtle. But, please, sit. I-My name is Tyler.”

Knowing that Gia will kill you if you don’t at least try, you slide into the stool next to him slowly. Maybe if you entertain him for a few minutes you can satisfy Gia and convince her to take you home. Then you can proceed to strangle her in a dark alleyway away from witnesses for putting you in this situation.

“I am really sorry about her-again. She means well she’s just a lot,” you run a hand down your face and introduce yourself with your name.

The stranger, Tyler, seems friendly at least. He grins easily at you with his own embarrassment. You can tell Gia has put him on the spot too. At least the two of you have that in common.

“Well, at least she broke the ice for me. I saw you a while ago and thought you were really pretty. My own friends were teasing me too,” he offers.

You wave down the bartender and place an order. You definitely won’t get through Hurricane Gia without a drink.

“So, a break up?” Tyler offers a sympathetic smile, “Been there. I just broke up with my fiancée a few months ago. I think I spent an entire month living off of frozen pizza rolls and watching terrible documentaries just to take the edge off. I definitely know how awful it feels.”

His words put you at ease some. You swirl the ice around your glass.

“Breakup is maybe not the right word. We weren’t really together. I wanted more and he didn’t.”

It hurts to say it out loud. It sounds so pathetic when you put it that way, but you can’t help it. The truth is a brutal knife to the ribs.

Tyler makes a noise of sympathy.

“Well, he didn’t know what he missed out on. It’s his loss,” he lifts his glass to you.

You glance away and see Gia staring from your old table. She mouths for you to keep going. You flip her off when Tyler turns around.

“I’m really sorry about my friend. She’s determined that the way to get over heartache is to find someone else. I’m not really interested in that,” you admit. Better to lay your cards out now.

Tyler leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“Don’t worry, I’m not either. My friends dragged me here tonight too. The one in the gray suit is getting married next month and wanted a chill night out. I’m not here to meet someone. It’s too soon, but maybe we can be friends? Breakup buddies and all that.”

He offers you his cellphone and asks for your number. You bite your lip but decide to take the plunge. Why not? It’s not like you owe any loyalty to anyone.

Once you’ve exchanged information, Tyler’s friends call him over. They’ve decided to move on to another bar across town. Tyler has no choice but to go.

He gets up and gives you a friendly wave.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he turns around then hesitates and turns back to you, “And, for the record, that ex of yours is an idiot. I wouldn’t have let someone like you go.”

Once he’s gone and you’re feeling bashful again, Gia slides into the seat he just occupied. She’s munching on fries like she didn’t just humiliate you. You aim a hard kick to her shin and feel better when she shrieks.

“Never do that to me again,” you warn.

She doesn’t promise you that. Instead, she presses you for info on Tyler.

“You two going on a date soon?” She urges.

“He just got out of a breakup too. He’s not interested either. I’m not going out with anyone.”

Gia sighs.

“Look, the important thing is that you let this mystery guy of yours go. This on and off thing is for high schoolers who haven’t developed their prefrontal cortex and have zero impulse control. You’re an adult. I don’t want to see you so broken up about him. You need to get him out of your system.”

You look away.

It sounds easy, you admit, but forgetting Miguel isn’t an option. He invaded your senses. You remember what it’s like to be held and kissed by him every time you try and push him aside. You remember the way he laughs when you manage to crack through his walls, the way he smiles when he thinks you aren’t looking, and the way his voice gets softer when you call. Even if he’s been yelling at someone moments before, his voice always gets soft when you appear.

He loves you. You know it. He probably knows it. Everyone in the agency knows it. It’s just that he’s not willing to take that final plunge.

Before you can say anything more, your watch begins to glow. Lyla is trying to patch a call through.

Gia doesn’t know much about your watch, but she knows enough to guess you’re being called. She narrows her eyes at you when she sees the way your body tenses.

“No.”

Her voice is firm and she jabs a finger at your chest.

“Do not do that. Hit ignore. Block him. Toss the thing at the wall. Do not answer.”

Lyla calls again and sends an alert that Miguel is trying to contact you.

“Hit ignore! Don’t do it!” Gia reaches out for your watch.

You stand abruptly. It’s a stupid, stupid choice. You know it is. Gia is right, you should just chuck the thing in a garbage bag.

But you still fish your phone out of Gia’s purse and toss some cash at the bar.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

The look Gia gives you is murderous. She puts her head in her hands like she’s fed up with you. In her place, you’d probably be fed up too.

Still, you slip out the bar and hit your watch. A little projection of Lyla appears as you duck into a secluded area.

“Lyla?” You tilt your head.

Lyla hums, “Miguel wants you at his office. Says he hasn’t seen you in a while. Poor Miggy is worried for you. You don’t usually spend so much time away from HQ.”

She patches a portal for you. You look around to make sure you aren’t being watched then slide in. Gia will definitely tear you a new one for this tomorrow, but can’t resist the urge not to go back to him.

———————————————

Miguel is standing by his computer when you arrive. He’s reading some reports when you pop in. His eyes glance at you as you emerge and his eyes widen.

You’re still in your outfit from the bar. It’s a little ego boost to see the way his eyes scan you from inch to inch. If nothing else, you can find comfort in the fact that you still have the power to drive him crazy.

“You called?” You voice.

HQ is empty this time of night. Most people are either back in their own universe or staying in some of the dorms on the other side of the building. For now, it’s just you and Miguel.

Some anticipation builds in your stomach. This is how a lot of your late night meetings have started.

Miguel straightens up from his chair. You don’t miss the way he swallows when he sees you.

“Did I interrupt something?”

You can’t be sure but maybe there’s just the hint of an edge to his voice. He sounds a little miffed, like he’s jealous. It’s a nice change from his usual aloofness with you.

“I went out for drinks,” you admit, “What is it?”

It’s been days since you’ve last seen him and you missed him. It’s so easy to miss him. He has a hold on you that you can’t possibly escape from. He’s magnetic without trying, has a good heart even if he hides it behind a facade of anger and coldness, and he cares about people. He’s a good person. You’ve glimpsed it all and have fallen hard. Being without him hurts more than any broken bone or injury.

Miguel hesitates when he looks at you. You take stock of him.

He has dark circles under his eyes and looks stressed. A part of you hopes it’s because your last argument has also been keeping him up. If you aren’t the only one hurting, you think it’ll make you feel better. Then again, there’s a mountain of paperwork on his desk and his computer has a ton of messages unread. Maybe it’s less you and more the job itself that has kept him up.

“Jess said you needed a few days off because you weren’t feeling well. I just wanted to make sure you were healthy,” he turns away from you, “Yet I’m sure you are. If you can go around drinking, you can go on a mission.”

A prickle of irritation fills you.

“Did you just call me here because of that? This could have been an email.”

You hope your face doesn’t show the disappointment you feel. For a second, you had been expecting him to have changed. To have admitted he was wrong and hadn’t treated you fairly. Then again, this was Miguel. Miguel wasn’t exactly known for being sentimental or emotional.

“What else is there?” He doesn’t even turn around before he’s at his computer, “I’m assigning you a case this week. Your little vacation is over. You’re dismissed.”

Indignation fills you. You shake your head firmly.

“Come on, Miguel. Give me a little more than that. I haven’t seen you in days and all you do is assign me more work? That’s it?”

You step forward towards him.

He turns around and glares. His eyes flash with a warning.

“That’s it. Go.”

He’s got the voice he uses for the other recruits. The one you’ve heard him scold Hobie and Peter B. in plenty of times. It’s not one he tends to use on you, and you bristle.

“Why did you call me here? Lyla wouldn’t open a portal for me if it was just for work.”

Miguel’s jaw is clenched.

“Well she did that without me asking. I didn’t want you here.”

His words are a blow to the stomach, and your anger grows. You jab a finger at him and glare.

“You’re not even going to apologize? You insult me days ago then want to be professional again without apologizing-“

“Why would I apologize?” His own anger is rising, “I meant what I said. You knew what this was when we started. I’m not sorry you forgot.”

A huff leaves your lips. You shake your head and take another step forward.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re annoying.”

You meet each other half way. His face is clouded with anger. You can feel your heart race in your chest from you own rage.

“I can’t believe you won’t admit that you want more between us.”

“And I can’t believe you’re testing my self control showing up here in this dress and pointing a finger at me,” he retorts. His eyes go down to your lips. You can sense what he’s about to do.

You lean in first and he devours you. The kiss is full of fire and anger. You’re both pent up and stressed. It burns and consumes you in a way you’ve been longing.

Anger fuels you and you take his hair in your hand giving it a firm tug earning a hiss from him. He picks you up and sets you on a nearby desk. The files scatter on the ground. Neither of you notice.

“You’re not going to apologize?” You hiss it between breaths.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, “I’ve got nothing to apologize for. My intentions were always clear.”

His mouth goes for your throat. Your rebuke is lost as his hands begin to inch under your dress. The words he’s spitting out at you hurt, but his fingers soothe the sting when he explores your body.

This is a mistake. Gia is right. You should shove him off you and walk away. You’ll never get over him if you’re still sleeping with him, yet you can’t seem to do that. Your body amidst the haze of ecstasy won’t allow it.

Instead, you close your eyes and give in. You let him fuck you in his office all while telling yourself you’ll deal with the fallout in the morning. You don’t think of the consequences or how much this will hurt when the sun rises-

And it does.

It hurts like hell when you blink awake after dozing off in his chair and find him gone in the morning. He’s left for the day and a note near you is the only thing he leaves behind. You read it then throw it into the waste bin with tears running down your face.

In his messy scrawl he’s written, THIS CHANGES NOTHING.

———————————————

Gia has her arms crossed when you return to your shared apartment. She knows where you’ve been. She can see it in the bites he’s left along your neck and shoulders. The walk of shame you just took burns.

“You slept with him, huh?” Her eyes are narrowed in annoyance.

You sign and bury your head in your hands. She isn’t done with you yet. Her judgement feels thick against your skin.

“And he left again, huh? Right after he got what he wanted.”

The question makes you cry. You burst into tears feeling regret and heartbreak. Gia sighs and her gaze softens. She wraps her arms around you and holds you close.

What’s worse is that the pain of his rejection doesn’t hold a candle to the pain of missing him. It’s illogical and pathetic, but you and Gia both know this won’t be the last time you make this same mistake.

And it isn’t.

Days later, he appears at your doorstep and you welcome him into your bed again.

———————————————

Days after that encounter, you open the door to find Miguel bleeding in the hallway. He has a large gash across his side that looks painful. He stumbles inside before you can even react.

“Miguel?”

You close the door behind you as he hisses in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come, but I need a first aid kit,” he groans.

You’re grateful Gia isn’t here. You don’t think you could explain why Miguel is bleeding in his spider suit. That or why you let your ex back inside again.

Deciding to shelve your personal feelings, you hurry him over to the kitchen and set him down on a chair. There’s a first aid kit under the sink. You’ve used it plenty of times before when you come back from fighting crime.

Miguel is strong and puts on a brave face as you go about patching him up. The gash at his side is the worst one, but his knuckles are also bleeding and there’s a tiny cut on the side of his chin that looks painful too. It doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches, but it does look bad.

“What happened?” You look up at him.

“Anomaly. I took it down, but it got me on the side. I didn’t even think before coming here. I’m sorry.”

He looks away as you work. You wish you could tell what thoughts are running through his mind. Your own are consumed with the fact that he’s here.

HQ was just a click of the watch away. Lyla could have called him to the medics there and gotten him help. Why had he showed up at your place? You haven’t spoken since the night at his office.

The memory of it stings and you purse your lips.

This is probably a mistake. The second mistake you’ve made this week. Things won’t end well if you don’t develop a sense of self control, but you’re not sure you want to let go. Despite everything, there’s still a little nag of hope that’s rooted itself deep into your heart. You don’t want to give up.

“You weren’t at HQ these past few days either,” Miguel speaks up. He suppresses a wince when you finish his side. The skin there is already starting to heal over. A testament to his powers.

The bruises on his knuckles look worse than they are. It takes just a bit of treatment to get them to start healing too. Soon, the cuts are just dark bruises.

“I did my mission. I let Hobie do the report for me,” you explain.

The mission he had assigned you on had been easy. You and Hobie had taken the anomaly down without question. It was just another villain of the week. At the end, Hobie had offered to go back to HQ without you to check in with Jess and Miguel. You had fled back to your universe certain that you couldn’t face people there just yet.

A muscle on his jaw works as he tightens it, “You don’t have to avoid me. I’m sorry for what happened earlier.”

His words make you ache. You hate feeling this way. Always dancing around the truth but never able to fully face it.

The final cut he has is on his chin. You have to look at his face to tend to it. His eyes are trained on you and the depths there take your breath away.

There’s trepidation and nervousness there along with something else. It’s soft and meek like he’s trying to shield it. You think it’s a cross between longing and affection.

He does love you too. You believe it strongly. He just doesn’t want to admit it. Miguel is the kind of man who can face hordes of villains and never falter, but ask him to open up and share his feelings and he panics. He can’t even be honest with himself.

Your fingers trace the planes of his face as you apply a thin layer of ointment on the cut.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you whisper. It always seemed like he wanted you as far away from himself as possible. You had agreed to give him that even if it slowly killed you, “Why did you come here tonight? Really?”

Lyla wouldn’t have sent him to you if he hadn’t asked. For all of her teasing of him, she is mostly obedient. She would know not to send him where he doesn’t want to. The fact that he came to your door means a part of him did.

Why? Why tell you to keep your distance then show up at your home anyway? Could there also be a part of him that finds you just as impossible to be away from? Or are you clinging to him and seeing what isn’t there?

A faint trace of color has spread through his face. You blink. Without realizing it, your fingers have been stroking his chin. It’s such a habit that you never even noticed it.

An apology forms on your lips and you drop you hand before he intercepts it. He takes your hand in his and stares down at it. The muscle in his jaw works again.

“I wanted to see you. Hobie said you had been injured on your mission. I nearly came here then and there,” he admits. It’s a quiet breath into the night like he can’t believe he’s admitting it. Your heart picks up.

The injury in question had been a simple broken rib. Your powers come with accelerated healing. By the time you had noticed it, it had already started repairing itself. Hobie and Miguel both know this, yet he had been worried. A part of you dares to hope again.

And then you remember the way he had left you in his office. The note that had broken your heart. The way he took and never gave anything back. An ugly feeling twists in the pit of your stomach.

“I really don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” you breathe out.

It hurts to be led on. It hurts to be discarded. Maybe Gia is right. Maybe you should just let go. Resign from the agency and ignore the thought of him forever.

You pull your hand free and turn around. His eyes follow you as you begin to pack your first aid kit.

When he calls your name, his voice is soft and hesitant. It fills you with a yearning that aches.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, “We just can’t-“

“We can’t? Or you can’t?”

Miguel is brave but there is one fear he can never face. He’s lost so much already and is afraid of losing more. That’s why he keeps people at an arm’s reach. No one is allowed into his heart because he’s lost everyone thus far. His own daughter, or at least in another universe, had disappeared in his arms. He won’t let anyone else in.

A rational part of you knows it. You know he’s pushing you away because he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose you to the danger of your jobs or the universe that keeps you apart-

But doesn’t he see that he’s losing you anyway? That pushing you away is slowly killing your worse than a villain ever could?

By the time you turn around to look at him, you are surprised to find him right behind you. His hands slot around your waist and he presses his forehead to yours. It’s an affectionate gesture he doesn’t do often. Perhaps the adrenaline from the fight he just came back from is still coursing through his veins and making him more vulnerable.

Your name falls out of his lips like a prayer. You barely have time to react before he’s kissing you.

This kiss is different from the one at HQ. It’s full of fear and adrenaline. He kisses you like he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to do it again. Maybe you should never let him do it again.

It’s addicting. You cling to him like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Surely he will disappear if you don’t. It feels like home when the two of you touch. You’re two halves of a whole never truly feeling satisfied if you aren’t together.

Life would be so much easier if he just admitted he loved you too. If he took a chance on you both. It would save you so much heartache.

It’s a really bad idea to do this tonight, you think. You haven’t discussed anything. You haven’t come to an agreement or settled out your feelings. The two of you are merely working on instinct.

But that doesn’t stop you from leading him to your bed. His injuries don’t stop him from sleeping with you. The darkness of the night offers some cover for what you’re doing. Some way to hide from the emotions you are trying so hard to evoke and he so hard to restrain.

It’s a long night for you both. By the time you’re done, you’re exhausted and he has to go back to his world. You don’t say anything as he turns to dress. Sleep is slowly creeping up along with the smallest whisper in your head that chides you for doing this again. Falling back into his web without measuring the consequence.

Before he leaves, he kisses your forehead. It’s a soft piece of affection he’s never done before after sex. If you weren’t so tired and sleep weren’t already dragging your eyelids shut, you would have asked him to stay.

Still, before he leaves, you swear you hear him whisper an “I love you” into your skin. You can never be truly sure of it. Perhaps it was a dream your subconscious did to ease your heartbreak, but you want to believe it’s true anyway.

It isn’t until the next morning that you wake up alone again and hate yourself for putting yourself through this once more.

———————————————

Avoiding HQ isn’t doing you any favors. There’s a mountain of work with your name on it that you haven’t done in a while. Jess has been patient thus far, but you hate to add more stress to her plate.

You’re an adult. You can do professional. Even if your ex is the leader of the agency, you know you can keep calm and work.

So days after your last encounter, you ask Lyla for a portal and set off for HQ. Gwen nods at you as you pass by and you detect a hint or worry on her face. You offer her a weak smile in turn and hurry to your desk.

Paperwork is tedious. You’ve always hated to write mission reports, but it keeps your mind occupied. You breeze through five entire files before your fingers begin to cramp.

The sun in Miguel’s universe is starting to set by the time you finally give up. The workload has eased some, but you’re stuck on one particular file. The document needs some information that Miguel has in his computer. Lyla doesn’t respond when you call her, likely helping out with another mission some other team has been sent on, so you have no choice but to go to his office.

A pit of anxiety forms in your stomach. You dread walking up the stairs to where his office is. It’s been days since you last made the mistake of letting him in, and you’re not eager to see him again. Still, you can’t just shirk your duties because you’re heartbroken.

So you make yourself a promise not to sleep with him this time and go up the stairs. You tell yourself you won’t let him back in for once. That you’ll cut him off cold turkey and be out of his hair before he can even react. Maybe if you copy the document fast, you can get out before he even has a chance to speak-

But then the sound of voices reaches your ear. You can make out Miguel’s voice and someone else’s. Peter B.? It seems the two are talking in his office.

It’s wrong of you to listen in, you know it, and you almost go back down the stairs deciding to come back tomorrow-

But then Peter B. says your name and you freeze. For a moment, you panic that maybe they know you’re here. Maybe one of them has detected you with their senses or maybe Miguel has smelled you. However, it later becomes apparent they’re just talking about you.

Curiosity burns and you hesitate. It’s wrong, an invasion of their privacy, but you can’t help yourself. If they’re discussing you without your presence, you think you’re owed some rights to hear what they’re saying.

So you inch back to the door and listen in making sure to keep yourself discrete.

Peter B. sounds serious for once. It’s uncharacteristic for him. He’s talking to Miguel and you can hear something in his voice like he’s upset.

“-ow long are you going to keep doing this? You’re both miserable.”

He’s scolding Miguel. His words sound both sympathetic and exasperated. He reminds you so much of Gia that you almost roll your eyes.

“This isn’t your business,” Miguel’s voice is a growl. You recognize the dark tone he uses. It’s a tone he’s used on you before in arguments. He uses it when you pry too close and he gets frightened.

“I’m your friend,” Peter B. argues back, “I’m just looking out for you.”

There’s the scrape of a chair like he’s flung himself into a seat. You can practically imagine them both sitting across from each other. Miguel skulking and trying to ignore him while he talks while Peter B. chastises him.

Since they’ve met, Peter B. has called himself Miguel’s friend. Miguel denies it vehemently and claims not to have friends, yet he doesn’t kick him out when he intrudes. He always seems to let him talk or lets him bring Mayday to work. It’s likely that, like your situation, Miguel does think of Peter as a friend even if he would never admit it.

“We are not friends. You should go home,” Miguel bites back.

Peter makes a sound like he’s shaking his head. You hear him sigh and the chair creaks as he shifts his weight.

“Look, I get it. I do. I was divorced once, but come on, Miguel. This isn’t healthy. You keep torturing yourself with this over and over again. When will you just admit the truth to yourself?” His voice sounds tired.

Miguel is silent. You wish he weren’t. You’d love to hear what he’s thinking.

Peter continues.

“You sleep with her, you ask Lyla to check in with her, you watch her on your screens, you send her out on the least dangerous missions, and you panic when she gets hurt. Why can’t you just admit you’re in love with her and let her in. We all deserve a chance to be happy, right?”

You manage to bite back the gasp that rises up your throat.

There. Peter has said it out loud. The one thing you’ve never said out loud or Miguel.

There’s a very tense silence that follows. Miguel refuses to budge. You can practically imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he’s upset.

Frustration fills you. You wish he’d say something. Anything. Finally admit the truth to someone even if it isn’t to you. Or at least admit the truth to himself.

You know he loves you. Everyone around you knows too. Jess, Hobie, Gwen, Pav, Peter, Ben…Everyone knows. It’s just getting him to say it out loud and do something about it that’s the hard part.

A hand slams on something. You almost jump. It seems Miguel has taken his frustration out on a monitor. You can hear the static chirping as the screen splits in half.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hisses it out at Peter, “She’s just a colleague.”

Peter doesn’t give up. You hear his chair scrape as he stands.

“You don’t do everything you’re doing for a colleague. Look, I lost Mary Jane too once. She left me and I was miserable. I would have never have found happiness again or gotten Mayday if I hadn’t just let go of my fear. Someone once told me it’s all just a leap of faith.”

A leap of faith. You think you like that expression.

Miguel doesn’t.

“I’m not afraid and our situations aren’t comparable. Your wife was from your universe. You belonged to the same world. She didn’t have powers that made her risk her life daily. She wasn’t always in danger. You know our line of work. You know why I can’t.”

You hear him begin to pace. He’s going for his stage system. If he ascends up, he’ll brood forever and Peter’s efforts will be for naught. You hope he manages to stop him before that happens.

He does. You can hear when Peter clicks off the elevator’s button and when Miguel growls out a warning for him to quit.

“You are afraid, and that’s okay. You just can’t let fear destroy you. I was afraid to have Mayday and look at me! I love being a dad. You should let her in. Let yourself be happy. You’ve already lost enough.”

You think to Miguel’s daughter. The way he had broken when he had lost her. You think of his canon events and the people he’s watched die. It makes sense that he’s so terrified about letting you in. You get it.

However, Peter is right. Fear shouldn’t control him. You’re afraid too about loving someone in your line of work, but you’ve decided to be brave. In a world where you could die any moment, isn’t it better to die having have experienced a great love? Doesn’t the reward outweigh the pain?

Miguel mutters a string of Spanish. He’s irritated and beginning to shut down. Any moment now he’ll close himself up. You just hope Peter’s words were enough to get him to think.

Your hopes, however, are shattered when he next speaks.

“I’ll end things with her then. Happy? Set her free. She doesn’t deserve being strung along-“

“Miguel, that’s not what-“

Peter’s words are cut off as the elevator is turned back on. Your eyes burn with tears and anger floods you.

Stupid, stupid man. Too stubborn and cowardly for his own good.

“Don’t do this, Miguel, come on!” Peter practically begs him as the elevator begins to make its ascent up, “It’s not just you you’re hurting.”

“I’m going to end things once and for all. You’re right. This isn’t fair.”

Miguel’s words are final and the elevator clangs as he reaches the top. Moments later, you hear Peter drop into his chair out of frustration. That’s your key to leave.

You storm off HQ and call on Lyla. This time she answers. Whatever playful retort was on her tongue earlier dies away when she sees your tears.

You don’t give her a chance to ask what’s wrong. Instead, you demand a portal back to your world.

Emerging back into your apartment, you storm over to your cellphone. Gia was right, you think, you do need to get him out of your system. So you scroll until you find the text from Tyler all those nights ago at the bar and you send him a message inviting him over.

If Miguel wants to call things off, then you’re way ahead of him.

———————————————

Tyler is a great guy. He shows up at your apartment with some take out and doesn’t pry when he sees your poor attempt at concealing your pain. He’s entirely platonic and friendly when you invite him in.

He knows this isn’t anything more than a distraction. You two are break up buddies. There’s no romance or lust between either of you, so there’s no nervousness or tension when you sit down to eat.

Gia has left for the night pleased that you’ve finally taken her advice. You don’t have the strength in you to clarify that it isn’t like that and she doesn’t have to leave your apartment to give you privacy.

“Hope you like Chinese,” Tyler holds up some takeout boxes.

“Love it,” you reply. You try to sound upbeat and positive, but it falls flat. Tyler gives you a look of concern but doesn’t comment. He’s willing to give you space.

The two of you plop down on the couch and you let him choose a channel. He opts for a shitty B film with monsters. The acting is so poor that you find yourself snorting.

Tyler makes you laugh too. He makes it a game to spot plot holes and inconsistencies. The one who finds the most will get to pick dessert.

He’s good company. When you find yourself starting to think too long on what happened, he makes a joke to get your attention back. Perhaps if you hadn’t fallen in love with Miguel, maybe the two of you could have been something. In another universe, maybe you do end up with Tyler.

Still, in this universe, your heart is still broken.

At some point, you win and you decide on a key lime pie in the fridge. Tyler brings out some wine and you settle down into the kitchen table.

“I didn’t want to pry, but are you feeling better?” He looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“Better than this afternoon,” you admit. It’s not completely a lie.

You needed this. Being able to spend time with a friend is a good distraction. Tyler is a good guy. He doesn’t pry anymore after that question.

Instead, the two of you talk about anything and everything. You feel at ease. He makes you laugh and smile quite a few times. By the time midnight comes around, you’re surprised that you lost track of time.

He stands up and decides to call a ride-share. You tell him not too. It’s too dangerous for him to be out at night. You offer him your bed and insist when he protests. You’ll take Gia’s bed. She always takes yours when she has family over at your apartment. You know she won’t have a problem if you take hers for a night.

The two of you go to bed in your own rooms. You find your thoughts drifting towards Miguel, but you shut them down. You really don’t want to think of him now. Not when he’s decided that he’s going to end things once and for all.

At some point you drift off to sleep. You don’t wake up until the next morning when someone knocks on your door.

Your room door is still shut, Tyler is sleeping in. You don’t even think before opening the door convinced that it’s Gia coming back. However, the person standing in the hallway makes you freeze.

It’s Miguel, not Gia, who stands there. He’s wearing civilian clothing and looks miserable. There’s exhaustion on every plane if his face like he hasn’t slept a wink thinking. You hesitate.

“Miguel?”

He hangs back taking you in. You must look like a mess in your pajamas. If you weren’t still half asleep, maybe you’d be embarrassed.

“Can I come in?” He calls your name softly and adds a ‘please’ when you don’t move an inch for the longest time.

You glance at your room door hoping Tyler is still asleep when you let him in.

The last time Miguel was here, you two slept together. It feels maddening to have him so close again.

“What do you need? Lyla didn’t call me.”

You try to keep your voice even, steady. It’s an attempt to hide the turmoil inside you. Miguel hesitates when he sees the two wine glasses on the table. You had left them out yesterday. Still, he opts not to ask about it.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Miguel admits, “I haven’t been fair.”

You remember his conversation with Peter. Is he here to end things once and for all? You wrap you arms around yourself to keep you steady.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel murmurs, “For everything. You didn’t deserve it. I took advantage.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do,” you shake your head, “It’s not taking advantage if you were honest from the beginning. I just got my hopes up.”

The words feel bitter in your tongue. You look down at the floor.

“But I wasn’t honest,” Miguel admits. It’s a quiet whisper that makes you look up. He looks like he’s struggling. He’s never been good at vocalizing his feelings or talking things out. This is a major effort for him, “I lied. I wasn’t being honest.”

He takes a step towards you and you stare blankly at him. You don’t want to get your hopes up.

He calls your name again. A plea.

“I wasn’t honest when I told you I didn’t want anything between us. I was being a coward. Peter B. poked his nose where he didn’t belong and talked some sense into me. Jess chewed me out too last night. They both made me realize how terrible I’ve been.”

So Jess had talked to him too. It was probably after you had left. Having been on the receiving end of her scolding before, you can imagine it was a harsh awakening for him. It must have been if he’s deviated from his initial plan with Peter.

You wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts. This is a huge effort for him, and you know it doesn’t come easy. Some hope rises in your chest.

“The truth is, I’ve been lying to the both of us for a long time. I-it isn’t just sex, alright? It was never just sex.”

He takes a step closer. You watch him closely. His eyes are open to you now. You can see the emotions there. The affection, the heartbreak, the yearning, the fear, the love. It makes your breath hitch.

“Miguel-“

He cuts you off gently. His hand goes for your cheek. He hesitates just briefly, his fear wanting him to bolt, but he fights it back. When his skin touches yours, a little spark has you both feeling dizzy.

“The truth is, I do want more. I’ve wanted more since you walked into HQ to begin with. I kept pushing you away because I was scared. I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me, I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to leave, but I want you to know the truth. I don’t want you to think it was something you did or that you were never good enough.”

Silence reigns between you both. Emotion chokes your words. He leans in briefly.

“I want this,” he breathes out, “You terrify me, this scares me, and I hate feeling this sense of panic, but I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t like seeing you cry or pushing you away.”

“I-“

The words die in your throat. You think about how you want to tell him that you love him, that you want this with him too, and that you’ve been waiting for this moment. This dream of yours has finally come true and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You want to pour everything you feel into your words so that he can understand everything you’ve gone through. You just don’t know how.

To his credit, he waits patiently. His eyes are warm when he looks at you. It’s the type of look he’s only given you before when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Your heart races in your chest.

Just when you think you’ve found the right words to respond-

The door opens behind you. A half asleep Tyler stumbles out still unaware of his surroundings.

The world stops.

You see the moment Miguel turns his head and spots him. He realizes he’s coming out of your room. Slowly, you see everything start to fall apart.

You want to beg him to listen, explain to him that it isn’t like this, and tell him that nothing happened. Yet he’s already moving away from you. His eyes cycle between betrayal, jealousy, heartbreak, and fury before he closes himself off. He takes a step back and an entire chasm opens up between the two of you. Whatever progres you two had just made is now gone.

Tyler blanches when he spots Miguel. You see the wheels churn in his head and he realizes what happened. What he’s just done unintentionally. The last of the sleep disappears from his system and is replaced by shock.

“Oh god, sorry,” Tyler blanks.

For a moment, you think you see Miguel tense. He’s like a coil waiting to spring. You suspect he’s getting ready to launch himself at Tyler. You take a step between them to try and stop him and try to explain-

It’s too late. Miguel reins in his self control and doesn’t strike. Instead, he straightens himself out and turns away.

“I didn’t realize you had company,” his voice is a deadpan growl much more terrifying than anything you’ve ever heard before. You move before you can think. Your hand snags his sleeve to try and explain what just happened-

He firmly tugs himself free of your grasp. His voice is cold, detached, and guarded when he answers back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you two get back to it. This was a mistake I won’t make again.”

He storms out of your apartment with his entire body practically seething with anger. You try and follow only to see him disappear in the middle of the hallway. Lyla closes the portal before you can follow.

Tyler is incredibly apologetic when he leaves. He feels terrible he’s ruined things for you. You half heartedly tell him it’s not his fault. It’s all yours, really.

By the time he’s gone, you feel like someone has taken your heart and crushed it in the palm of their hand. You crawl back into Gia’s bed and sob until your head begins to pound. Everything feels ruined.

———————————————

Gia finds you there sometime in the morning. She smiles and opens her mouth to tease you about your date when she catches sight of your face. Immediately she pales and rushes forward.

“What’s wrong? Did Tyler hurt you?” Her hands come around you and she holds you tightly.

You shake your head.

“Then what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she fusses over your tears. Her eyes are wide with surprise. You reckon you’re giving her a terrible fright.

In between sobs, the story pours out of you.

You tell her everything. How Miguel had come to tell you that he wanted a romantic relationship between you, how you had been about to tell him that you loved him too, and how Tyler had given him the wrong idea.

You’re practically shaking by the time you’re done. Gia presses her lips together and holds you closer.

Your heart has never broken quite like this before. It’s in millions of tiny pieces. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to pick them back up. Not with what happened.

Gia holds you until you’re done crying. She’s pensive as she stares out the window. Finally, she sighs.

“Call him.”

It’s such a deviation from her old advice that you blink at her. It pains her to say it out loud. She looks like she bit into a lemon when she does, but she powers through.

“Look, this guy got the wrong idea, right? Go see him and explain things. Don’t let him get away. It sounds like he genuinely cares for you.”

You wipe away at a tear on your cheek and glance at her.

“You hate him,” you mumble. Gia helps you clean up your face. Her hands are gentle.

“I hated him because I thought he was just a booty call leading you on. It sounds like he does love you back. You shouldn’t let him go after a misunderstanding, right? At least explain what happened to him and go from there,” she bites her cheek, “If you’ve been fighting for him all this time, what’s one more battle? Give it one last try.”

Her advice seems so simple. You sniff until some of your tears finally dry. Your head is pounding but it’s nothing compared to the agony that is in your chest.

Gia helps you dress and gives you breakfast. She wishes you well. When this is all over, whether it ends in tragedy or success, you’ll have to thank her. She’s put up with so much on your behalf.

You tell her you’re going to his apartment. Trepidation fills you as you round a corner. You call up Lyla on your watch.

When she greets you, her face is downtrodden. You miss her cheery and teasing personality.

“It’s not a good idea for you to head over there right now,” Lyla hesitates, “He’s in a mood. He’s been smashing things and throwing stuff in his office all morning.”

You wince wracked with guilt. You hurt him. Sure he probably deserved it after how badly he’s hurt you, but you still never meant to do that to him.

“Lyla, please let me in,” you beg.

Lyla looks away.

“He told me he didn’t want you anywhere near HQ for a few weeks. You’ve been put on leave.”

Panic grips you. You need to speak with him. You hold the watch up and beg.

“Lyla, please. Please let me make things right. He’s got the wrong idea.”

It takes some more begging. Lyla looks torn. She doesn’t want to anger Miguel further after this morning, but she also doesn’t want him to hurt himself on a misunderstanding. Finally, she wilts and opens a portal. You jump in before you have a chance to second guess yourself.

———————————————

Lyla had understated the sight of Miguel’s office. It’s a complete war zone. His monitors are smashed on the ground, his desk is half way across the room, and there’s broken glass everywhere. He’s destroyed everything in his wake. You wince as you step over broken wood and metal.

Jess has opened the door for you. She tells you to leave immediately if things get messy. Miguel really doesn’t want to see you right now. Lyla will be on standby ready to send you home or anywhere else if you ask her to.

You wave them both away as you search for Miguel. His elevator is on the ground which means he has to be somewhere on this floor.

After a while, you find him. He’s staring out the window and his entire back is rigid. He senses you before you have a chance to speak.

“Get out.”

It’s a harsh bark of an order that makes you wince. You stay rooted to the spot.

“Miguel-“

“Lyla, get her out.”

He taps on his watch and Lyla appears. She looks between the two of you before shaking her head.

“No can do. Jess has me working a different mission. Sorry, Miggy. Guess you’ll have to talk things out like adults.”

She winks out before Miguel can press her again. You hear the sound of anger he makes as she disappears. He still doesn’t turn around to look at you.

“I came to speak to you,” you hear yourself say. You’re surprised your voice sounds so calm. You certainly don’t feel okay. Your ears are roaring and your heart is going a million miles a minute.

“I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out.”

This time he does turn. His face is completely devoid of expression and he moves away from you.

You spin around to follow.

“What you saw isn’t what it looks like. Tyler and I are just friends.”

Miguel huffs something that sounds like a laugh. It sends shivers down your spine. He says Tyler’s name under his breath like a curse.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waves you away, “You and I are just coworkers. Nothing more.”

His words ache but you don’t let them land. You know the truth. He’s told you it just a few hours ago.

“Miguel, stop,” you come up behind him. He’s completely tense when you grab his hand to stop him.

“Enough,” he says your name with a warning, “Go home. There’s nothing more to say.”

You don’t budge. There’s a terrible voice inside your head that tells you that letting him go now would be a mistake. That if you don’t clarify things, you’ll lose him forever.

You try again.

“Nothing happened between us. I only care about you. Please look at me,” you plea. You try to sidestep him to put yourself in his direct field of vision.

He turns around.

“It wouldn’t matter if it had, you owe me no loyalty. We were never together,” he argues back. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that. Perhaps he’s been turning those words over in his head all morning.

You won’t let him leave. He needs to know the truth. If he decides afterwords that he still doesn’t want you, fine. You’ll give up and resign from the agency. You’ll go back to your old life and force yourself to let him go, but he needs to know the truth at the very least.

“Nothing happened at all. We slept in separate beds. There is no one else but you,” you move forward, “I was going to tell you then that I do want you. That I’ve always wanted you.”

He still won’t look at you. You manage to stand in front of him and force him to see you. You want him to look and see the sincerity in your gaze. The love you hold for him burns bright when you meet his eyes.

Some of the tension from his body leaves. He sees that you mean every word. That if Tyler hadn’t interrupted, you would have told him you loved him then and there.

But he’s still afraid. He’s warring with himself over what to do. His instincts tell him to push you aside like he’s been doing. To save himself further pain by cutting you off once and for all. Another part of him is crying out for him not to. The part of himself he had bared for you this morning wants him to give in. To hear you out and be honest with himself.

You hope that other part of himself wins. You need that part of himself to win.

“Please believe me,” you whisper, “It’s only ever been you.”

His eyes close as your hands trace his face. You have to stand up on your tippy toes to reach him.

After a long pause, he sighs.

“Do you know how much it killed me to see him? To imagine him touching you? I almost killed him. The worst part was that I knew it was all my fault. That you owed me nothing and it wouldn’t have mattered if you had decided to move on because I pushed you away.”

“Do you know how much it killed me to be pushed away?” You murmur. It’s not a rebuke or retort. There’s no poison or malice behind your words, you just want him to understand that you’ve both been hurting.

He winces anyway. His eyes trace every inch of your face as if looking for something. You aren’t sure what he’s searching for, but you do know there’s more you haven’t said.

“I want to be with you. I’ve been fighting for you since the beginning. If you don’t want me, then tell me. Tell me once and for all, so that I can move on because I’ve been suffocating these past few days,” you slowly withdraw from him to give him space, “I love you, Miguel. But I can’t keep doing this. You’re breaking me.”

Silence descends in the room. Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

There. The ball is in his court now. He can either accept or reject you. Either way, this game between you will be over.

He’s quiet for so long that you suspect he’s made his choice. You try not to show how heartbroken you are when you take a step back. You’re about to apologize for wasting his time when he surges forward.

You don’t have time to react before he’s picking you up. His mouth crashes against yours and his kiss steals your breath away. He pours everything in it. His heartbreak, his longing, his love of you. It’s so powerful that you feel your self start to melt. You respond in kind kissing him back just as fiercely.

He holds you to him as if afraid that you’ll disappear if he lets you go. You two meet again and again. In between breaths, he pants your name. It isn’t until both of your mouths are bruised that you manage to come up for air.

He leans into you almost immediately after, kissing your throat and murmuring against your skin.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the beginning. I’m sorry,” he kisses your mouth gently in another apology, “I don’t deserve this.”

You cut him off before his thoughts can spiral again.

“I love you,” you repeat. His eyes close like he can barely believe it so you say it again. When he opens his eyes, you see the love for you in them. You’ve always known he loved you. Now, you finally have a confirmation.

“I love you too,” he responds. It takes your breath away. You’ve been waiting for a really long time to hear those words.

The next time you kiss, it’s less frenzied. This time, you both know you have time to pace things out. You’ll have all the time you need from now on. You’re both done pushing each other away and breaking your hearts.

His heart is racing against you and you feel your own beat against your ribcage. Still, you press forward. Declarations of love spill forth between heated kisses and nips. You’re drowning in each other.

For the first time in ages, things slowly start to fall into place. The darkness looming over you is gone replaced by a beautiful sunlight. You feel yourself smile into the kiss and he kisses you more softly as a result.

The two of you will have to talk at length more in the future. You’ll have to discuss what you being in an official relationship will mean in terms of your jobs and your different universes, but that’s all a problem for tomorrow. For now, you’re both content to be with each other and to celebrate the fact that you are now together.

The road ahead will not be easy. Nothing in life ever is. Yet you know you can both weather it if you fight for each other the way you’ve been fighting each other. There’s nothing the two of you can’t survive if you work hard.

Together.

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x y/n

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senualothbrok · 5 months

Text

Enough

Summary: You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery. A very angry Astarion.

AO3 link

This is the first fanfic I have written for about 20 years. I should be working on my novel, but this story honestly possessed me. I hope someone out there reads and enjoys this! If not, it was therapeutic and cathartic to write it.

-----------------------------------------------------

You have heard it a thousand times. The tales and the histories, all the songs you have sung. You are a bard, after all, and this story is as old and worn as your heart. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

You know this, and you have seen it. You have seen it twist kind men into savages, transform wary women into beasts. Your own family had suffocated you under its clutches, leveraging your gifts and talents for ever more power and influence. Stripping you bare, squeezing out every drop they could get from you. You were their very own song bird, pushed about and paraded until your fingers were raw and throat was hoarse, to grant them entry into the best parties and social circles. But you were never enough. You never sang sweetly enough, or got large enough crowds. Not enough people knew you. You should have been prettier, more alluring. All the things they made you do, but you never did enough. It was never enough.

When you had escaped from them, you had vowed you would never be like them. You had promised yourself you would never become the thing you fought against. You would be different. Better. You would be good.

And yet.

You are standing in Cazador’s palace. Blood spatters the smooth ivory of Astarion’s skin. In the nightmarish hue of the ritual chamber, he glows a strange green. His crimson eyes are all fear and desperation.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

In that moment, you cannot say no. If it were anyone else, you would refuse. There have been many conversations with Astarion - around the campfire, in his tent, even as you walked around the labyrinth of Cazador’s living hell. You have talked to him at length about this moment. You have listened as he has confessed guilt and need and hesitation and rage. You have been kind and patient, always careful not to criticise him, not to push back too much, not to hurt him. You have been good. He must make his own decision, you have been telling yourself. He has suffered enough.

So you open your mind to him, because he asks you to. You feel his frenzied hunger as he devours the sight of every scar on his back, as though their cruelty is now beauty. You watch his features which you have come to know so well. You have seen them in sleep, in battle, in laughter, in pain. You have seen them shrouded and masked, bare and open. You watch now as they contort into something that you recognise from so many other faces and times. And as you watch, you can barely hear Cazador’s deafening screams, or register the way his mangled mess writhes and gushes. All you can see is Astarion’s widening smile as he carves at Cazador’s back, his eyes dilating like sinkholes.

You think it, even as he whisks away Cazador’s mutilated body like a rag doll. Even when Astarion slams the staff on the ground and everything around you blazes red as the blood of his convulsing siblings and the seven thousand spawn about to be slaughtered. Even when Gale and Karlach cry out at Astarion to stop, that this is a mistake, that the cost is too great. Even then, you think to yourself: this is what he wants. It is his choice. It is his right.

But in the scarlet haze, you are remembering. You are thinking of his trembling voice when he promised a broken husk called Sebastian, just moments ago, that he would free him. You think of the way his soft eyes glistened when he had thanked you and clasped your hand, stunned with the realisation that he was not just a thing to be used. You feel the crushing weight of Vellioth and Cazador and the decaying dungeons and centuries upon centuries of madness and terror. And you remember the tenderness with which he had looked at you, not days ago, believing the power of the ritual would keep you both safe. That he would protect you with it.

“I can feel their power flowing into me!”

You stare at him, spreadeagled, monstrous.

Something has begun to well inside you, like a cracking of ice, a convulsion of tears. In that whispering, you remember the promise you made yourself all those years ago. And you know, from a deep and tattered place within you, that that promise is greater than your yearning for his love.

The blade springs from your hand on its own. You watch it sing through the air and hit its perfect note in Cazador’s maimed gut. Astarion and his siblings crumple to the floor. The crimson mist lifts, and in the silence you know, with the certainty of death, that you have lost him.

You say something, but you know it is meaningless. Nothing can repair the mistake you have made. You could have refused to help him when he asked. You could have reasoned with him, urged him to stop and think. You could have told him, from the start, that you could not go through with it. And now, you have kept your promise to yourself, but not to the man you love.

When he rises from his knees and turns to you, it is the face of a stranger that you see.

“I was so close. I could have had it all, but you took everything from me.”

Hatred hardens in his every word. And then, a tide of despair.

“Cazador won after all. I’ll never escape the hell he built.”

You cannot bear it. Your failure rips through you, and you want to reach out to him, to beg and plead and weep. But you just stand there.

He looks down at the staff in his hand.

“And if I can’t escape, then no one can.”

He splits the staff on his knee. It makes such a small sound as it splinters, but it echoes through you like an avalanche. It is the sound of seven thousand spawn being condemned to death. It is the sound of their eternal suffering. And it is all because of you. The horror and guilt erupts inside you.

It happens so fast after that. There is no time to think, to feel, to act. There is the glint of a dagger raised. You are knocked back, and a searing pain slices through your shoulder as you stare up at bared fangs looming over you. Your limbs are heavy with shock, and suddenly you feel a surge of heat and the great arc of Karlach’s war hammer over you. You hear Gale shout out a spell, and you watch as Astarion topples to the side, frozen except for the furious twitching of his eyes.

“Don’t!” you hear yourself shout. “Please, stop!”

Karlach and Gale rush to your side, cradling you up, fussing over your shoulder. But you do not feel it. You do not really feel anything. All you can do is look from them back to Astarion, pleading, but you are not sure what for.

---

“You can release his hold now.”

You are back at camp, and you have recovered your voice. For a long time, you could not speak. Shadowheart and Halsin tended to your arm, speaking soothing words over you. Gale and Karlach came to sit with you, their faces creased with concern. Wyll, Lae’zel and Jaheira stood at a distance, arguing in hushed voices. All the while, you stared into the distance, thinking of the hatred in Astarion’s gaze, and everything you had done to deserve it.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gale says, frowning.

“We can’t keep him like that forever.”

“The man turned on us. He tried to kill you.”

You look into Gale’s eyes. There is warmth there, streaked with pity.

“Can you blame him?”

Gale scoffs. “Yes, I can.” Then he pauses. His voice softens. “Well, perhaps in the circumstances, in the heat of the moment…” He shakes his head. “But he truly would have killed you, had Karlach and I not intervened. And that is inexcusable, after everything you – all of us - have been through with him. After everything you have done for him.”

Your vision blurs and stings.

“I fucked up, Gale. How could I have fucked up so royally? I should never have let him start the ritual. I should never have agreed with it. I’ve broken him. Seven thousand innocent people will die in agony because of me. Because I was…”

You are not used to burdening others with your emotions. You give and not take, even when you have nothing. When you are nothing. But now, you are afraid that you will break.

“…Because I failed.”

Without hesitation, Gale lays a hand on yours. It is a such a kind gesture that it chokes you. You have always been the one to look after others, to give them what they need. That is your role. It is what you exist for. If you cannot do that, what are you good for?

“Those things were never your responsibility, my dear friend. They were never your burdens to carry.”

“But he trusted me.”

“That does not mean that you must give him everything, or watch him destroy thousands of people and himself.”

You ball your fists. “Then I should have told him that, from the start. But I went along with it-”

“Because you love him.”

You have not spoken about this with Gale or anyone else. You know it is common knowledge that you and Astarion are entangled, but you have always wanted to hide the love you feel for him away. You have always known that whatever it was that lay between you was fragile. Astarion himself was not sure what you were.

Attachment does not come easily to you. You know that if you give people what they need, there is a chance that they will stay. But there is also a chance that they will snap their heads one day and no longer want what you have to offer. And then, they will go.

You have always tried to guard yourself against the pain of that departure. Even with Astarion.

“Many a mistake has been made for love,” Gale continues. “I understand this better than most.”

“This is a monumental fuck up,” you breathe. “Not a simple mistake.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you really want to start a competition about the magnitude and impact of our mistakes? Because if so, I believe that I would be a clear winner, and some others in our camp may also be worthy competitors.”

You are too weary to laugh. Too broken.

“Besides, I am sure if we knock our considerably enriched heads together, we can find a way to open those dungeons and release those prisoners. Especially with such a range of talented and well-resourced allies to draw on.”

You can see the questions taking shape in Gale’s head already. You give him a weak smile.

“You are only human, my friend. I know you try to be better than any of us, but even you are permitted to make mistakes.”

When he clasps you tightly to his chest, you let yourself rest into it. You want so badly to believe he is right, but you are not sure you can.

---

As you approach Astarion, you gesture behind you. You know the rest of them are all watching, wary and ready to strike at the faintest sign of danger. But you stand them down, and they linger at a respectful distance.

Released from Gale’s hold, Astarion hunches over slightly, like a cat backed into a corner. He knows he is outnumbered and vulnerable. He does not lunge towards you. His arms lie flat against his sides, his hands free of weapons. His fangs are hidden behind the tight line of his lips.

“What you did to me is worse than staking me. You might as well finish me off now.”

Every word is a cut. You flinch at each one, but you do not avert your gaze from his. Any gentleness, affection, and truth in those eyes is gone, locked behind blood-red walls. And in his abject contempt, you find a kind of freedom.

If he has already left, then you need not please him. If you are not enough, then it does not matter what you say. You have lost him already. He does not love you.

So you say what you wish you had said, from the moment that he showed you who he was, the moment you fell in love with him.

“The ritual would have killed you, your siblings, and seven thousand innocents.”

“Spare me,” he snarls. “You nodded and cooed at me, like you understood me, like you would help me. ‘I’m here for you, Astarion. I’ll help you Astarion. Tell me what you need and I’ll be there, Astarion.’ You fucking liar. You godsdamned hypocrite. You never understood me. You never wanted to help me.”

His fury is like a lash, but the pain is sobering. You brace yourself against it.

“I never said I would help you become Cazador, or let you kill thousands of people for power.”

“Please.” His laugh is vicious. “I told you from the start what I wanted. If you didn’t see that, then you’re blind. Delusional. A self-righteous idiot, living in a fantasy.”

“You wanted to be free, Astarion. To be safe.”

“You never wanted me to be free,” he seethes. “You liked me weak and broken, so I could come to you on my knees, and you could nod and smile and promise to fix me. Your own personal project, kept on a leash like a little puppy. Cuddly, harmless Astarion, healing from his hurts, all thanks to you. My saviour.”

Behind you, you can hear voices erupting and subsiding, a scuffle of shifting feet. You are grateful when no one interjects or rushes forward. This is for you and Astarion alone. It is your punishment to bear, and his truth to hear.

“You took all that power away from me,” he hisses. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It was my decision. You’re worse than Cazador.”

The words wound you like arrows, but you half expect them. You have called yourself worse things.

“Cazador would have just compelled me not to do the ritual. But you gave me a taste of what I wanted, then ripped it away from me. You’re the cruellest bitch I’ve ever known.”

You do not care that hot tears stream down your cheeks, and that your voice trembles. You let yourself say what needs to be said, not what you think he wants to hear.

“You’re right.” You take a step towards him. “I should never have let you do it. I went along with it, when I should have pushed back. But I wanted you to feel you always had someone on your side. Someone who understood. I wanted you to feel loved.”

His disgust does not deter you anymore.

“You think that this is all you are. You can’t see beyond it. What was done to you. What he made you do to others. But it isn’t. It never was. You were always strong. You can be more than what happened to you. You are more than what happened to you.”

“Like you?” he sneers. “A hero? Someone so chained to other people’s approval that you’re lost without a saving mission? That’s what you so desperately want to see when you look at me, isn’t it?”

“No.” You are surprised by the strength of your voice. “Only someone who won’t let thousands of people suffer just because you did.”

Jolts of anger course through him. “You have no idea what I suffered,” he growls. “No idea what I am owed. If you had the faintest idea of it, if you truly loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be burning the world with me.”

You have listened silently before, when he talked about this. What he deserves after two centuries of agony. His comeuppance. You did not challenge him because you were afraid. Afraid you would offend him. Terrified that he would leave.

“Look around you, Astarion,” you say now. “Look at everyone here. We have all suffered. No, none of us have suffered what you have suffered, and I am so deeply sorry for that. But Cazador is dead and no one else will have to suffer under him. And now, no one will have to suffer under an Ascended either.”

A snide sound of disbelief. “You are so full of bullshit I can hardly breathe from the stench.”

Your tadpole rages, ramming into his mind. You expect the resistance of loathing, but he does not fight. He allows you in. And for the first time, you show him. You let him see him your parents, and your pain, and everything that was done to you. You open yourself up, the masks you put on that you recognise in him, the performances you too are familiar with in the economy of survival. You show him your promise to yourself, and your choices, and the failures you carry around with you like a noose.

He glares at you after it is over, but you think there may be less hatred in his eyes than there was a moment before.

“Why did you show me that?”

It is easier, now that there is nothing to hide.

“Because if we all burned the world because of our suffering, there would be nothing left. And because you said you wanted something real.”

He seems backfooted that you mention it. His first moment of honesty. Your first moment of connection. The beginning of your love.

“This is real, Astarion.” Your gaze is a waterfall. You cannot stop it. “Real love, messy and painful, with a real person who makes mistakes and tells you things that you don’t want to hear. Someone who sees who you really are and who you can be, the worst and the best of you, and still loves you anyway.”

He steps back, his features clenched in spasm. You think of how his hands felt on your skin, cold as ice to the touch, yet warming you inside out like summer sunlight. You remember the lilt of his laughter as you traded jibes and jests under the furs of your tent on cold nights. You breathe in his scent on the air for the last time, those hints of bergamot, rosemary and brandy that you could recognise anywhere. You are already mourning their loss.

“Then I don’t want it,” he spits out. “And I don’t want you.”

And then he leaves.

---

You are alone. You are lying in a clearing a short walk away from camp. It is spring, and the smell of earth and grass hangs around you as the sun streaks through the trees above you. Your ears are drunk with birdsong.

It has been weeks since he left. You would be lying if you said you did not miss him. Sometimes you feel his absence like a presence. It haunts and stalks you, and when the darkness comes, you cling to your pillow in your tent and weep through waves of grief that surge through you like labour pains. But at other times, you find a kind of solace in your solitude. You are not shackled by a desperation for love from a man so broken he is not capable of giving it. You are not trapped by your own brokenness in this yearning, this ache to fill the holes in his heart. And this freedom is worth the pain.

When you had asked Astarion what he wanted, he had never known. And perhaps that had struck you so deeply because you had never known either. You had never truly known what you wanted, who you really were outside of what you could do for others. You thought you were only a thing to be used, a tool to fill someone else’s need, whatever that may be. You could be good at that. You needed to be good at that. If not, you were nothing.

But you are learning. Since he has left, you are learning that you are more than that. You are learning that you can live with your mistakes. That you are enough, just as you are.

You find that you sing now, even when there is no one around. Even when it is not for a performance, or for support in battle. You sing for yourself, and you take pleasure in it, even when your notes are off key and you cannot remember the right words, even when no one is there to praise you or reward you for it. For the first time, you are enjoying your gift for no other reason than that you wish to. It is a gift, and it comes without dread or shame or conditions.

You are humming softly as you stroll back to camp. Scratch greets you with a frenzied tail, and you roll around with him, kneeling as he plasters sloppy kisses all over your face. The simple joy of this dances over the cracks in your heart. When Scratch suddenly stops, you are almost disappointed. You glance in the direction where he has bounded, an ecstatic flurry of delight. Then your eyes catch on silver shining in the sun, two bright rubies on white silk. Your breath halts.

There he is. He is different, but the same. You look at each other. And in that moment, it is enough that there is no hatred in his eyes, which flicker with uncertainty. It is enough that his mouth is not curled into a sneer, and his brow is soft and even. It is enough that you have both survived. You have shown each other who you are, and you are still here.

He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ‘men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on.

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin.

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up.

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement.

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest.

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew.

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream 6 #scream 6 imagine

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timdoubleyou · 5 months

Text

i found jay’s black jacket (an ID guide)

This black jacket is worn by Jay about 9 times throughout Marble Hornets, including his final appearance. And after some weeks of on-and-off research, I think I know the exact make and model.

This post will detail exactly how I found it, and serve as a guide for anyone that wants to find the jacket, whether that's for cosplay purposes, or if you're just keen on collecting items related to MH.

Main post under the cut

Intro

The first step to identifying the jacket was to gather as many references as possible.

I went back to the web series and took screenshots from any entries the jacket makes an appearance. (shoutout to mg549′s very comprehensive MH wardrobe guide, without it this would’ve been much more of a pain)

Jay's jacket is, for the most part, very plain. It's a solid color, full-zip jacket, without any particularly eye-catching logos or other details. I had to look for moments where even the slightest distinction appeared clear on camera, at least as distinct as it can be. Even if it was just close-ups to get the shape of a zipper, or how many buttons are on a sleeve, it was the best I got. While I did manage to find a decent amount of these, there was just one crucial detail that would've made finding it near-impossible; the brand is never shown. Thankfully, I had another resource.

In 2018 Troy Sold a Lot of Stuff

In early 2018, Troy officially announced that MH would be continued in a comic series. To fund the first issue, he held a number of auctions for production items used during the web series on Ebay.

These included items such as Jay’s camera, Brian’s hoodie, A Masky mask, and Jay’s black jacket.

Lo and behold, the jacket listing includes a picture with the brand in clear view. It's from Gap.

Ebay does not archive sold listings older than 90 days. However, Worthpoint, a website for valuing and pricing collectibles, does. Using Worthpoint I was able to find all of these items, (and a lot more, which can be found in this doc I submitted to Archive Hornets)

Identification

With the picture from the listing and the series screencaps, I had a complete ID list.

(Top image is from the Ebay listing, with the contrast adjusted a little for easier viewing. The bottom two images are from Entry #79)

The Gap logo (This specific logo dates the jacket being made anywhere between 1986 and 2009, when it first appears).

Front Zipper (Note the shape)

The two front pockets

The two buttons and pointed cuffs on each sleeve (Second one is a little hard to see but it's jusstt peeping out at the side)

The blue piping in the inner lining

The zipper in the right side inner lining

The gray mesh inner lining

With these in mind, I could now go to the next and longest step-

Finding the Jacket

I combed three resell sites; Ebay, Depop, and Poshmark. My main goal wasn't to actually purchase the jacket, (although, I would like to at some point) but to find a jacket listing that had every identifier, and have a more definite baseline for finding others. I needed to be sure what I had was enough to properly ID the jacket. The references I had stitched together were decent enough, but I wanted to see if there was something better out there.

After tons of page scrolling and tab-switching and comparing and contrasting, I finally got lucky.

(first two images are from crashthecloset's listing on poshmark, last six are from shannfo-76 on ebay)

I haven't bought one myself as of posting, but I feel pretty confident this is it. The jackets were already sold, but every marker seemed to be accounted for. It also revealed new ones, like the reflective pattern and pockets on the inner lining, (zipper on the right side pocket, button on the left pocket) and the materials tag.

With that, here's some final notes that may be helpful if you try looking for the jacket yourself:

Online sellers often describe it as a light jacket, a windbreaker, a 2-in-1, or 3-in-1.

"Gap Mens Black Jacket" is the search phrase I used the most since it yielded a (very) broad result pool.

Most of the jackets I found came from Poshmark or Ebay.

The exact size of Jay’s jacket is unclear. My best guesses are either a US Men’s S or M, since Jay was pretty skinny and of average height. I’ve only been able to find maybe 2 jackets that are a size M, one of which is the first pic in the photoset above.

Gap has sold other black jackets that look remarkably similar to Jay’s, and they do pop up on resell sites. One of these was so similar, the only discernible difference was the style of the logo. I highly recommend making sure it matches the exact one Jay had before purchasing. (It's also more than fine to ask/msg me if you have any doubts!) As long as you know what to look for, you shouldn’t have a problem finding at least one.

One detail that confounded me was this sleeve poking out of Jay's jacket. At first I thought he was wearing a long sleeve underneath, making this shot a continuity error since he appeared to Only be wearing the green short sleeve under the jacket.

@hivemite pointed out that this might be a two-in-one jacket, which has multiple layers for different types of weather. While I have not been able to see the sleeve outside of two shots in entry #79 and #80, one listing I found did describe it as a 3-in-1.

that's about it! hope this helps :)

#marble hornets #jay merrick #ref #over and out #long post #happy entry 80 day. heres some extra tidbits just for the tags #at least two listings called this y2k which is really funny.#it is also strangely difficult to find these in sizes smaller than large #another thing kinda related. worthpoint is a shitty site unfortunately #as you can see with the jacket description. in which it apparently ‘‘works and comes with a charging cable’’#<- i mean that Couldve been an error on the original ebay listing #however that is. impossible to verify now unless someone somewhere had a screenshot #but each mh item from this particular auction there had consistently bad errors that inclines me to say that wasnt the case #ok this went too long for a few extra tidbits but can you tell i lost my mind

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evermoreal · 3 months

Text

some stalker!ghost thoughts ౨ৎ ࿐

author’s note. i have never been into dark content but i got this idea in my head & ran with it >.< really, it’s not that dark, he’s just obsessive & needs to be near u at All Times. however he is a stalker so please heed the warnings !!

cw. 18+ mdni, fem reader, stalking, murder (nothing detailed & the reader doesn’t know), breaking & entering, voyeurism, masturbation. lmk if i missed anything ! <3

∘♡༉∘ he meets you while on leave. it’s not often he’s off-base, and when he is, he rarely leaves the dingy little apartment he rents.

∘♡༉∘ despite the rumours, ghost is human. a human with a terrible sweet tooth, actually. after spending too long staring at his empty pantry, willing something to appear, he decides to check out the little bakery he’d spotted on an early-morning run a few days ago.

∘♡༉∘ it was quiet inside — so quiet he had to double check that the ‘open’ sign was actually lit up. it was, and there was a faint, bubble-gum pop song playing from somewhere behind the ‘employees only’ door. after a moment of deliberation, he dings the little bell atop the counter.

∘♡༉∘ there’s a short yelp, and that sickly-sweet music is immediately paused. not a moment later, the door is swung open, and the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen is rattling off non-sensical apologies. there’s a bit of flour on your nose, some frosting on your chin.

∘♡༉∘ ghost knows he’s intimidating — enjoys it, even. not once in his life has he felt at all bad about it, not until now. the way you stutter over your words, staring up at him with wide eyes, growing frantic the more he silently stares has him regretting everything.

∘♡༉∘ now, he wishes he’d taken the time to swap out his balaclava for a surgical mask, or at least worn something other than his usual black hoodie and jeans. all he can do is shove his hands in his pockets, and say as softly as he can manage, “‘s okay, sweetheart.”

∘♡༉∘ you visibly relax, at that. shoulders slumping from where they’d begun to climb toward your ears. after that, you’re asking how you can help him, and when he asks for suggestions, you’re full of them. he ends up leaving with a box full of treats he doesn’t need, but he just couldn’t say no to anything you offered.

∘♡༉∘ only two days later and he’s returning. he doesn’t know why, but he can’t get you out of his head.

∘♡༉∘ the sight of your big, toothy smile when he walks in has his heart soaring. you’re immediately asking about the treats, if he enjoyed them or not. of course he did — he couldn’t get through all of them without a sore stomach, but the ones he did eat were the best damn baked goods he’d ever had.

∘♡༉∘ it’s easy enough to find your social media; you’re not great with privacy settings, and he spotted your name on your tag the first day he met you. instagram, snapchat, twitter, spotify, even facebook. your posts are so sweet, he finds himself smiling absentmindedly as he scrolls through them. baked goods, selfies of you and your friends, animals, the moon. he doesn’t know why he’s so satisfied when he concludes you don’t have a partner.

∘♡༉∘ there’s a photo of you at the beach alongside your friends. you’re smiling in it, the way one would for a photo — it’s not genuine, not like how you smile at him. but you look beautiful, so much so that it has something foul twisting in his stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this. the photo wasn’t particularly revealing, and you weren’t posed scandalously, but… he grinds his teeth as he goes through the comments. he’s so, so proud when he sees that you haven’t responded to the men, not even deigning to like their comments. heart eyes and shitty compliments — he files away their names, somewhere in the back of his mind. just in case.

∘♡༉∘ it becomes routine to visit you after that. every few days he came in, spending more money than anyone should at a bakery. only once did he make the mistake of coming in on your day off. it only made sense for him to wait for your coworker to use the restroom and sneak back to the break room, snapping a photo of your schedule.

∘♡༉∘ additionally, and even more strangely, he’s glad the bakery has the sweet habit of labeling who made what treats. when you suggest the ones made by your coworkers, he’ll still purchase them, just to see you smile, but they don’t go anywhere near his mouth.

∘♡༉∘ and, hey, it’s not like sticking around until the end of your shift was a terrible idea. he’d sit in his car on the other side of the street, monitoring whoever entered and exited. he just needed to make sure you were safe. a sweet thing like you, the world would chew you up and spit you out so easily — there’s no way he’s gonna let that happen.

∘♡༉∘ it’s rare he deems someone a threat, but when an older man leaves the place with a scowl, he gets a bad feeling. immediately, he’s back inside the bakery, only to find you teary-eyed and sniffly. fury takes hold in an instant, but when you spot him and whimper out his name, he’s unable to leave again, no matter how badly he needs to hunt that man down. you step into his arms and ghost knows that prick will have to wait — right now, he needs to take care of you. wiping your eyes, cooing at you until you calm down enough to explain what happened. he insists you take your break, and when you do, he treats you to the restaurant across the street you’d mentioned you’d liked.

∘♡༉∘ the prick never comes back. you don’t question why, and simon’s glad for that. he doesn’t know how accepting you’d be if ghost told you he was buried a few cities over.

∘♡༉∘ after that, ghost’s instincts kind of go haywire. in his eyes, you’re no longer safe when he’s not around, not even at home. he spends his nights parked a few houses down, watching you through the window you so often forgot to draw the blinds across.

∘♡༉∘ a few weeks later, it was clear you were going through a bad time. although simon was greatly relieved when he found out it was merely a common flu, he was furious you still had to go to work to support yourself. in just a few months, if he kept at it, you might let him support you. for now, though, the best he could manage was slipping through an unlocked window and catching up on the chores you’d fallen behind. doing the dishes, your laundry, taking out your garbage. now, when you returned home, you’d be able to relax, to get better.

∘♡༉∘ additionally, he made mental notes of things that needed fixing. the lightbulb in your upstairs hallway was flickering, there was a leaky tap in the kitchen, and a few of your doors could use new hinges. he’d get to that, too, eventually.

∘♡༉∘ (he prayed you were delirious enough in your sickness to not notice. he was mostly right — through the window, he spotted you staring at the now-clean dishes with a puzzled expression. you brushed it off, and he exhaled in relief, returning to his phone, where he was purchasing a refill of your favourite perfume).

∘♡༉∘ it was hard, though. work often called him away, and he didn’t want any of the neighbours reporting a suspicious black truck parked on the street. after much debate, he purchased some cameras, installing them in a few rooms and along the exterior of your house.

∘♡༉∘ being able to check up on his girl helped him sleep when he was away. he had to pay a few extra dollars for it, but now whenever the motion sensors went off at night, he’d get a notification sent to his phone.

∘♡༉∘ he panics when it goes off one night, a while after he’d watched you fall asleep. it woke him up out of his dead sleep, body attuned to the sound of the notification. he was on base, a ways away from you; he couldn’t unlock his phone fast enough.

∘♡༉∘ however, he merely found you, alone in your room, writhing on your bed. he was confused for a long moment — were you hurt? did he need to call someone to check up on you? however, when he clicked the little ‘unmute’ button, and a low buzzing sound cut through his speakers, he came to the realization with a groan. you were getting off.

∘♡༉∘ he knew he should close the app. he knew this was a new level of invading your privacy. he knew he was disgusting . . . but the blood in his brain had already begun it’s descent to his cock, quick enough to make him light headed and a little stupid.

∘♡༉∘ the walls in the barracks were thin. he made sure to keep the volume low as he listened to your quiet moans and breathy whimpers. pressing his face close to the screen, he watched with wide, dilated eyes, cock twitching in his briefs every time you bucked your hips against the vibrator.

∘♡༉∘ simon didn’t quite know how it happened, but somehow he’d ended up on his tummy, cock fucking into his fist while he imagined it was your pretty little cunt. he finished embarrassingly quick, growling against his pillow, waiting just long enough to hear the sounds of your climax.

∘♡༉∘ the hazy, post-climax period was cut short when he heard your voice, quiet and muffled against your palm. it was breathy with the come-down, but his heart lurched in his chest. he had to rewind the video, holding the speaker up to his ear.

∘♡༉∘ sure enough, you’d uttered his name. simon. you were thinking of him.

∘♡༉∘ despite claiming you long ago, something was cemented in simon’s chest at the sound. he couldn’t wait any longer. the moment he returned, you’d be his. no matter what he had to do.

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

Text

absolutely not a smoker but

imagine stepping out of that rowdy pub you tend to visit with your friends. The chilly evening air cooling your overheated skin.

The place can get a little too lively, sometimes you have to step out to take a breather. Or a smoke break, like in this instance.

Placing the lit cigarette in the corner of your mouth, you lean back against the brick wall of the establishment, feeling the cold seep through your jacket. Tipping your head back, you gaze at the night sky; shimmering specks of light scattered across the deep darkness, with the full moon gently illuminating the surroundings.

And then the pub doors squeal as they swing open, but you keep your eyes up and away.

Gravel crunches under the person's feet as they walk. Only for those footsteps to get closer to you.

God fucking damnit. You don't want to talk to anyone right now- your social battery is currently charging.

Exhaling softly, you close your eyes and open them as you turn to look at whoever is approaching and... the cigarette almost slips from your fingers from the fright.

A man that's a head taller than most, shoulders too broad, chest like a barrel. His thigh was the size of both of yours pressed together. He wore all black- the leather jacket creased around where the sleeves and where the elbow crooks. Well-worn but still in good condition.

But what almost sent your heart into failure was the skull balaclava mask he wore over his face.

Fucking hell, why is he staring at you like that?

Tapping the smoke with your pointer, you place it back in your mouth and pull the sides of your open jacket over your midsection, crossing your arms after.

"Can I help you?"

His response is immediate. "Bum a cig off ya?" he asks, a mancunian accent heavy on his tongue.

Shrugging to yourself, you shake the box and offer him the one, which he takes without even a thank you.

Ingrate.

"Got a match?"

Wordlessly, the lighter clicks once and a weak flame comes out of it. Only to get snuffed by the crisp breeze. Your thumb rotates the spark wheel once again, but this time you cup your hand around the pathetic little fire.

It holds long enough, so you watch him pull the mask up just enough to put the smoke in between his thin, chapped lips and lean forward to the lighter in your hands.

A warm puff of air extinguishes the flame.

His dark eyes cut to you- dark, nondescript. You flick the tip of your cigarette with your tongue in frustration.

Then his gaze wanders to the dim, orange glow on the other end. "Bum the light, then."

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline but otherwise do as he says- rising to the tiptoes, and draw in a steady breath, the burning end flaring.

His face gets too close to what anyone would deem appropriate, getting a real good view of his unfairly long, wispy ash-brown lashes that framed his eyes.

The furl of smoke begins to rise, stinging your nose, and he finally straightens, the lit cigarette bouncing in his mouth.

The silence after is comfortable, just two complete and utter strangers having a smoke.

Tossing the filter to the ground, you step on it and crush it with your heel as exhale the remnants of it. A small wave his way and you head back inside.

If you'd paid any sort of attention, you would've noticed that the smoke that came out of his mouth was too thick, concentrated. As if it just sat there, instead of going through his lungs.

He gives it 3 more minutes before putting out his own, nearly full cig under his boot and following right behind you.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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kishibe-kisser · 6 months

Text

Guard Dog (König x afab reader)

Tags: bodyguard! König x afab!reader, daughter of sus business man, age gap, cursing, size difference, mentions of violence, cursing, mentions of arranged marriage, primal play kink, size difference kink, the mask stays on, fingering, oral, cheating (kind of) praise, but also degradation, König calls reader maus (cliche i know but i love it so shh)

Word Count: 10648 (she's very long)

Calling yourself was a paranoid mess was an extreme understatement, knees tucked under your chin as you sat by the windowsill in your room. At first you were even hesitant to open the blinds, not wanting any light to come through. It was a way to hide, you didn’t want to see anyone or speak to anyone, all you felt was shame. It was humiliating, being attacked the way you were and not being able to do anything about it until someone showed up to help. You hated it.

Every little noise made you flinch, every knock on your bedroom door by the maid bringing you your meals or every time you heard the front door open. It made you hug yourself tighter, pull your blankets around you tighter and want to hide yourself further. It didn’t even happen because of something you did, it was all because of the name you were born with and the blood pumping through your veins.

Toying with a few loose threads on your blanket, you found yourself flinching at the sounds of a car door slamming outside and even harder at the doorbell. It had been like this all morning, interview after interview and you were going insane. It scared you that your father thought something would happen again and that you needed a bodyguard for that very reason. It scared you to hear the heavy boots inside the house, together with murmuring heading to the direction of your father’s study.

König never in a million years thought that he would have to start taking jobs like this. Retired from the military and simply tired. The retirement was enough to live off, at least at first, but the man was not only damn near broke, he was bored. A job like this, protecting some 20 something year old rich girl, it was easy money.

That was what he thought when he heard about the job, sitting here in her father’s office, his mask sitting over his face as he listened. “Since the attack, she hasn’t left her room. She’s scared and while I know it’s my fault, she still has her duty as my daughter. There are events she’s needed for and soon I’ll be finding her a husband.” Her father seemed level-headed enough. König never took a job without research and he knew that her father did morally grey work. That didn’t bother him, it’s not like he didn’t have to make morally grey choices of his own while in the service. This was definitely going to be a simple job.

“Looking at your qualifications, I have no doubt you’ll be the safest option for my daughter. You have the job… only I do have a question. Do you always wear the mask?” König knew this question was coming, while he retired his old sniper hood for a simple ski mask style mask, he had anticipated this. “It’s for her safety. My past created enemies but because I’ve always worn a mask, my identity was concealed then and it should be concealed now.” He explained, pausing before looking his new boss in the eyes. “She’s in safe hands.”

“Like I said before, she hasn’t left her room since it happened.” Your father led him up the stairs, explaining once more. “I’m hoping you can help get her out and about again. Provide a safe feeling.” The irony wasn’t lost on him with the last part. He was a six foot ten, Austrian, ex-military man wearing a ski mask, he was intimidating and he knew it. But you were a young lady and that required a gentler hand, one he suddenly wasn’t so sure he had. He watched your father knock on the door, gently before opening it.

“I have someone for you to meet. This is König, he will be your new body guard.” Your father stepped out of the way, allowing him to peer into your dark room. It was decorated simply with a few feminine touches of in the décor, it made him realize he’d never stood in a room like this before. Looking around further, he found you curled up on the windowsill, a small ball in a blanket like a cat. You looked absolutely terrified, staring at him with big eyes and balled fists in your blankets. Small scratches littered your face and a large band aid sat on the side of your forehead, this was undoubtedly why you were so terrified. It seemed the attack had left physical marks as well as mental ones. König felt an overwhelming sense of anger, seeing you this scared. Wondering how people could take someone so seemingly vulnerable and hurt them, no matter their family ties.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted.” Your father left the room, feeling the tension of fear. He never did quite understand how to handle your emotions or take care of you in any situation. If giving you a bodyguard was his way of trying, you had to accept it. You just didn’t think it would be this massive of a man, wearing a mask.

You watched him walk over to you, the heavy footsteps you heard on the stairs now replaced with light ones. He was so massive, the gentleness in his steps was impressive but his sudden movement to kneel made you flinch nonetheless. You tucked your knees further under your chin, you hated feeling this way but you couldn’t help it. You were an adult woman, you knew that. But the sheer size of this man left you feeling like a small mouse and it had you acting like one.

“I know I can be intimidating.” He had an accent when he spoke, looking at you with baby blue eyes. They were his only feature peaking through the mask and looking into them made a feeling of ease overcome your body. “But you don’t need to jump.” He laughed lightly, wanting to make you feel comfortable. “Your father says you haven’t left your room in days, why’s that?” He asked, his voice gentle as he took in your features. “I- I’m embarrassed.” You admitted, telling someone your true feelings after days. If he was going to protect you, he needed to know. “You feel like they took something from you, right?” He asked further, eyes growing even more sympathetic. You felt broken and it was obvious to him, he was taught to read people after all. He didn’t like seeing someone who hadn’t done anything wrong feel so humiliated.

“I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop it, I needed to wait for help.” You thought back to it all, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill. “Shhh, maus. I’ll help you. I won’t just protect you. I’ll make sure you can help yourself, protect yourself. I’ll teach you.” He said, the words leaving his lips before he even knew he meant them. He wanted it to be an easy job and teaching you how to protect yourself should be easy enough. He had trained plenty of soldiers back in the day.

“You’ll teach me?” You asked, looking at him with a cocked brow. You suddenly didn’t look so sad anymore and it made him chuckle. His large hand extending to your face and softly wiping your tears away. “Yes, Maus. I’ll teach you.” He confirmed and you watched smile lines form by his eyes. “Now it’s time to get back on your feet, Maus. From what I’ve heard you’ve wallowed enough.” He stood back up to his full height, watching your big eyes trail up his body as he did so.

He had done research about your father, what he did for a living, the way he conducted his business and the basic knowledge about his family. Yes it included some pictures of you, but they were mainly old. He hadn’t seen just what you looked like until today and it wasn’t what he anticipated. You were stunning, a beautiful young woman that he was certain would be fought over when the time came to get married. König couldn’t lie, the way you looked up at him made his him blush and he found himself even more grateful for his mask.

The mysterious man had been on your mind the entirety of your shower the following day. How someone new in your life could put your mind at ease so much, simply by speaking to you without even showing his face, confused you. It made you wonder just how old he was, what his life experience was … what he looked like underneath the mask. His eyes were stunning, that much you knew but what about the rest?

The thoughts continued to linger as you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. The house was quiet, as it often was. Your father never quite liked to stay in one place too long, so it was no surprise to find the silence. Truthfully, you were grateful for it. A part of you resented your father for the uncomfortable position he had put you in, you didn’t want to see him or speak to him.

“Goodmorning, Maus.” König’s gruff voice shocked you as you tried to pour a cup of coffee, nearly spilling the liquid over the counter and yourself. “Goodmorning, König.” You said in return, turning to look at him. He was leaning against the cooking island, arms crossed over his chest and that mask covering his face. He wore a fitted, black long sleeve shirt tucked into dark green cargo pants and you found your cheeks heating up. You hadn’t even seen his face, yet the sheer size of the man and his physique flustered you to no end.

“Is Maus going to be my nickname from now on?” You asked, grabbing your mug and taking a sip of coffee. You hoped your question would cut the awkward tension in the air, wanting to know more about this man. He was unconventional, not anything you expected from a bodyguard. You expected someone quiet in the corner of a room, wearing a suit and not making himself known until necessary. König seemed to be the exact opposite, making himself known, taking up space in the room.

“It’s fitting, no? Compared to me you’re a little maus.” You could tell he was smiling, his eyes crinkling up again like the night before. He wasn’t wrong, compared to him that was exactly what you were. “I suppose.” You agreed, sighing slightly and looking to the floor. You looked up again, finding his eyes scanning your body language and suddenly you felt exposed. Wearing a comfy sweater and shorts wasn’t exactly the most flattering thing and feeling him stare at you the way he was, it made you self conscious.

“You seem to have something bothering you.” He stated, watching the way you wrapped your arms around your torso to hide yourself. “Not bothering me necessarily.” You admitted, pausing to pull yourself to sit on the counter. “I have questions.” You said, hoping he would understand your curiosity. “That was to be expected, our talk yesterday was brief. Fire away.” He nodded and you let out a sigh of relief. “Where are you from, I can’t quite place the accent?” You asked, watching his chest rumble with laughter. “I’m from Austria. Was that what was plaguing your mind? You truly are fascinating, maus.” He remarked and you smiled, something you hadn’t quite done for days. “It was one of the things. How old are you?” You continued, just wanting some answers. “I’m almost 40.” He said, tone a little more somber at the question. His age seemed to be something he slightly griped with, but that was too personal to ask about.

“What did you do before this?” You didn’t realise but you were leaning forward, getting drawn in by his responses. He took a few steps closer, now leaning directly across from you against the island. “I was in the military. I was colonel. Is that all?” He was teasing you now, you could tell. However the military made sense to you, he didn’t have the typical body guard approach based off what you saw from your father’s. “One more question.” You said, watching him push off the island and come closer to you. You swallowed thickly, seeing him so up close and so much bigger than you. He looked down at you on the counter, blinking at you in anticipation.

“Will you ever take off the mask?” You asked, itching to see his face. Secretly you hoped he would take it off right there, your hand absentmindedly travelling upwards to touch the fabric of the mask. König’s hand quickly, but softly wrapped around your wrist to stop the action. “The mask, Kleine maus, stays on. Always.”

From your knowledge about bodyguards, they were supposed to be silent protectors. He was the exact opposite, he liked to talk but kept his past under wraps. König liked to ask you questions, get to know you more. He knew a lot about you based on your file, but that was official information. The more personal things made it easier for him to protect you, that and he was genuinely curious about you.

“Have you done this job before?” You asked, tugging on the waist band of your cocktail dress. It was a modest little black dress, classy and pretty, perfect for showing you off to your father’s colleagues. While you hated the thought, it was your daughterly duty so you squeezed yourself into the dress picked out for you. Only it was incredibly tight around your waist, making breathing a little uncomfortable.

“Yes, is it your first time in a dress this tight?” His accent especially gruff. It seemed König was just as uncomfortable as you, tugging on the collar of his suit. His regular shirt and cargo’s would have made him stand out more than he already would due to his size alone, he had to match the occasion with made you happy because at least you weren’t uncomfortable alone. He looked handsome in it, dress pants tight around his muscular thighs and shirt over his muscular chest. The ski mask was of course on, but it added to the effect. You found yourself blushing looking at him, not being able to help your mind wandering.

“No, it’s just been a while.” Your voice shook slightly, waiting for the elevator to make it to the top floor. You were anxious for the evening, even though it wasn’t anything new to you. König could sense it as he stood in front of you, essentially body blocking you from the door when it would open. “It’ll be alright, Maus. I’ll be there, watching.” He reassured, glancing towards you. He liked seeing you all done up but it was incredibly obvious that you were uncomfortable. “If you feel off, or someone is making you feel uncomfortable just come to me.” He added on, hand reaching to give your own a reassuring touch. “Okay.” You responded, squeezing his hand in return as the elevator opened.

König walked out of the elevator first, scanning the room for anything that resembled a threat before allowing you to leave. “Like I said, I’ll be watching from that corner over there.” He said, pointing to the corner before turning to you again. “Go on in and try to relax.” He said and you nodded, walking into the venue. “Oh, Maus.” He called after you and watched you turn around with a raised brow. “You look beautiful.” You smiled and looked away, trying to hide how warm your cheeks were and how flustered he made you.

You went through the evening, glancing to the corner and making sure he was still there. Not because you were uncomfortable or scared, but because the way he was watching everything going on was driving you insane. His intense blue eyes, not calm or gentle the way he looked at you, but intense and dark. He looked like he would murder anything that crossed him or you wrong and it made your attention span weak.

“It seems you aren’t listening to me.” The son of one your father’s friends said, taking note of how you were staring off into the distance. König was substantially more interesting than this man’s babbling about investments and what he’s doing with the money he earned. “I’m sorry, I’m very tired.” You smiled weakly, watching the man’s expression remain unphased. He didn’t care, he wanted you to listen, it was what he thought he was owed. Especially since your father mentioned you were on the market, if you even wanted him to consider you as wife (you didn’t) you should at least give him the time of day.

“If you want any of the men in this room to be interested, I would try a little harder.” He remarked snidely and you felt your stomach flip with fear. Something about the tone in his voice made you very uneasy. “Excuse me, I think I should g-“ You started, beginning to walk away only for his hand to find your arm. He squeezed it harshly, not quite hurting you but sending instant memories of your attack flooding back.

König saw it all, rage fueling him as he made his way over while trying his best not to cause a scene. Though when he got close enough, he felt a sense of pride through his body as he heard you speak up for yourself. “I wouldn’t do that, now or ever again. I have my guard dog with me.” Your voice might have shook as you gestured towards König, but that was alright. It was a start.

The smaller man’s eyes followed your hand, still gripping your arm as he looked at König. König was practically steaming out the nose like a bull, eyes angry and fists clenched, ready to take the situation further at a moments notice. It took the man 0.2 seconds to decide that it was a fight he wasn’t going to win and he let your arm go. “Not worth it.” He grumbled and walked off, König staring him down as he did.

Your guard was about to walk after him, but you placed a hand on his arm. He turned to you, looking at you with that soft expression that seemed to be reserved for you. “Master says heel?” He asked jokingly, softening his tone as he spoke to make you feel more at ease. However he could see your legs shaking and the way your breathing was slowly turning rapid. Not wanting to cause more of a scene, he quickly walked to your father and gestured to you. “I think it’s wise I bring the young miss home.” In reality, he should have waited for your father to respond if that was okay especially considering he was the one paying his checks. He didn’t wait though, turning through the crowd of people to grab your hand and tug you towards the elevator.

You were absolutely frozen, aside from your legs moving towards the elevator, you were numb. Staring in front of you and not registering anything that was happening, you wanted to go home, you wanted to breathe, you wanted to get out of that god forsaken dress. Before you knew it you were in the elevator, watching the doors shut. You hadn’t entirely realized it but your hand was gripping the fabric of König’s dress shirt at the forearm, bawling it up in your fist as you tried to make sense of what happened.

“Maus, look at me.” His gruff voice rumbled but you couldn’t turn your head. “Maus.” He said again, placing a hand on your shoulder. König had seen all form of panic, the loud screamers and the quiet sufferers, this wasn’t anything new to him. What was new was the worry in his mind seeing you like this. “Maus.” He raised his voice a little, not knowing how to deal with his emotions and yours. He did feel bad seeing you whip your head around, looking at him with a trembling lip.

“You’re a good guard dog.” You choked out, forcing yourself to smile now that you were out of the situation. “That’s good to hear.” He said, looking you over to make sure the fucker hadn’t left bruises with his grip on you. “You also did good.” He said, rubbing over the slightly red skin verifying that it wouldn’t leave a mark the next day. “No I didn’t. I froze.” You shook your head and he started shushing you before you even finished. “No, you stood up for yourself and then called me. You did everything you were supposed to do.” He reassured but you still felt a weight on your chest, you wanted to be able to do more.

The moment you stepped through the threshold of your house, your hands started fiddling for the zipper of your dress. You needed it off, you needed to breathe and while your panic attack had subsided, the pressure of your dress tight around your ribs was going to send you into another one. “What’s wrong?” König asked, watching you in the foyer trying to contort yourself. “Unzip my dress before I pass out.” You said bluntly, turning to look at him with the most serious expression he had ever seen. “What?!” He asked, incredibly happy that his face was covered with a mask. “My dress is so tight, I’m going to pass out if you don’t help me.” You repeated, enunciating every word to make sure he understood.

You turned around, showing him your back and moving your hair out of the way so he could reach the zipper. “Maus, should I be the one to-“ “No one else is here and I can’t reach. At this point I don’t care if you rip it.” You remarked and König found himself even more flustered than before. The image in his head of him ripping the dress off of you making him shake his head. His hand reached out, finding the small and fragile zipper. It would have been so easy to rip, your words really staying in his mind. You were attractive, there was no doubt and the effect you had on his emotions didn’t go unnoticed. Now you were telling him to undress you, albeit not in the most romantic way, he had to hold himself back.

The zipper slid down, showing more and more of your skin, his fingers gently grazing your spine as the zipper went down. Goosebumps coated your body at the touches but what was more important was the deep breath you let out at the relief. You held the dress up to your body once he was done, turning around and looking up at him. Your expression was not longer stressed, or panicked, doe eyes looking up at him with relief. “Thank you.” You said and he nodded his head. “No problem.” He grumbled and you stayed there, looking at him for a moment before realizing that you were holding your dress up. “I’m going to go change.” You said and scrambled off quickly, suddenly feeling exposed and embarrassed. “You do that.” He agreed and started loosening his tie, undoing the top buttons of his blouse. König was also suddenly having a hard time breathing.

“Hands up, protect your face.” König’s voice was raised and you instinctively listened. You were sweating like crazy, panting like a dog on a hot summer’s day while he was fine. Hardly broken a sweat and eyes looking at you with an amused expression. “That’s better.” He commented trying to hold back a laugh.

“This isn’t funny.” You whined, hands falling to your sides after moving your hair from your face. “I can’t help it, Maus. I’ve never seen anyone less intimidating.” His words were so degrading and if anyone else had said them, you would have been angry. “I’m trying my best.” You whined again and he mussed your hair, to tease you. “I know.” He added on and you could see his mask shift, something you had learned to be a smile.

Since that night, you had expressed you wanted to be able defend yourself. Not just call for your guard dog to do so. Mentioning that König wouldn’t be there forever to do so, the words stinging a little when he heard them. He cold understand though and he admired you for it. So he started training you with the most basic self defence and to put it nicely, you sucked at it. But you were trying and that was what’s important, having the knowledge was half the battle.

Today was no different from the last 2 training days, König dawning a black compression shirt and his khaki cargo pants. You couldn’t even lie, you were checking him out. The years of military service being so evident on him and his body. It was partially the reason you sucked at fighting so much, you were distracted. So distracted, one of your attacks led to you being pinned to the ground. König’s body, warm and big pressing you against the ground with his hands pinning yours down. His face was only inches from yours and you had to do everything in your power not to moan out.

“Now, hands up again.” He commanded and you listened, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. You tried getting into the stance he had taught you prior only for your shoelaces to come undone and tripping you. The heartiest laugh you had ever heard left his mouth and you found yourself laughing too at just how pathetic this situation was. You were grateful for him, you hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. “Oh Maus.” He shook his head between laughter and leaning down to help you up from the ground. Instead of pulling you to your feet however, he pulled you off the ground and over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You lifted off the ground with a squeal, laughing as he carried you and you hit his lower back lightly. “Put me down!” You yelled between laughs, feeling the way his hand held the back of your knees to keep you in place. “You need to be less distracted during training, otherwise someone like me can just pick you up and take you.” He joked, spinning slightly to mess with you further.

He hadn’t anticipated you’d be so easy to throw over his shoulder, thoughts headed straight for the gutter once more. It was something that seemed to be happening more and more, each day he found something you did so incredibly attractive. These training sessions, seeing you sweating and panting, pressing your body into his, he felt like a mad man.

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice was stern, standing in the doorway looking at you both. “I need to talk to you.” He added on and you looked at him from König’s back. The man gently put you back down onto your feet and you straightened your clothes out. “Go on, I’ll clean up here.” König nodded between you and your father.

Following your father, you wandered to his office and wiped the sweat from your forehead with your arm. He was looking at you with an expression you weren’t entirely familiar with, it was between pity and something else, something you couldn’t put your finger on. “You seem to be doing better.” He remarked, sitting behind his desk. “I am…” You trailed off, thinking about König. “König has been a big help and a big comfort.” You added on and you watched your father smile, but you knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t pull you aside to talk about your well-being.

“I’m glad. He seems to make you feel safe.” He paused, clearing his throat and looking at you. “I received an interesting offer a few days ago. I’ve been mulling it over. The offer was in regards to marrying you.” He explained and you felt your heart sink, words getting caught in your throat. “Seems you left quite the impression at the last party. Mr. Anderson was quite taken with you.” You took a moment to think, pull up a mental image of the man. However the moment a face could be placed to the name, you shot up from your seat. “Surely you’re joking. After the way he treated me at the party?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest for comfort. It felt like a sick joke, that that man had even made the suggestion after the way you were treating. It felt even worse to know your father considered it, especially after how the evening went.

“He apologized for his behaviour and made an incredible proposal.” He explained and you just huffed, normally you weren’t this emotional around your father but you were so angry it was just coming out. “He apologized? I didn’t receive an apology. Which to me means he apologized to you.” You were ranting now, tears of anger stinging at your eyes. “Y/N stop this. It’s no use.” Your father hushed you, making all your motions halt at once. His tone was scary reminding you just of the reason why you weren’t close to begin with. It was silly to think he would listen, or take any of your feelings into consideration. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.” He sighed, looking at your face and your unreadable expression. Not that he ever was good at reading your expressions. “I already accepted the offer.”

You were stewing in anger, that was clear to anyone who would look at you. Your position in the world had been made clear to you in the last days. A trophy daughter to become a trophy wife, an object not even worth apologizing too. You had shut yourself off a little, no training, no leaving the house, not unless you had too. It wasn’t nearly as bad as after your attack, but you weren’t exactly enjoying anyone’s presence.

It was nearly midnight and you were sat in the living room, the radio on softly as you flipped through a book you had started that morning. It was a calm, no energy activity that allowed you to immerse yourself in some other world, perfect for your mood that day.

“I did a security check around the house and made sure the alarms on the estate are all working.” You jumped slightly at König’s voice. For someone so big, he was so good at being quiet. “Thank you König. I’m going to read a little longer.” You told him, barely looking at him.

Your father had informed him of the news and what was wrong, feeling nothing but rage at the situation himself. It was disrespectful to you, the whole ordeal. He couldn’t blame you for being upset, he couldn’t blame himself for want to smash this Mr. Anderson’s face in. However that wasn’t professional, if the man laid a finger on you in front of him again though… being professional would be thrown out the window. He’d kill him if he had too.

“Maus…” König’s voice was low, sitting down beside you on the couch. His weight made the couch dip, your sides brushing his and making you adjust your position. “What can I do to make you smile again?” He asked and you fully turned your body to look at him, sitting on your knees on the couch. His voice was riddled with concern and you could’ve cried at the way he was looking at you. It was inappropriate to think, but you wanted him. He could make you smile again by being yours.

“Well.” You said, feigning a smile. You could fake happy for him, only for him. “You could let me see your face.” You suggested and he let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. The action exposed his neck and you had to bite back every urge in you to lean over and kiss it. “You’re funny, Maus. No.” He responded bluntly, trying not to show how nice it felt to have you so close to him. You pouted, feeling your sadness slowly dissipate just by speaking to him. Maybe closing yourself off was the wrong choice.

“Okay, hear me out.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He was watching your every move, calculating your breaths and taking note of how your eyes started to sparkle a little again. “You can cover my eyes and let me touch your face. I won’t see you, I just want to have an idea.” He was calculating your request too, the thought of your soft hands tracing over his features. Even the thought of you seeing him excited him. He wanted it, but taking your safety into account was more important. He supposed you touching him was alright.

“Alright, Maus. We’re doing this on my terms.” His voice got stern, turning his body to yours. You were beaming now, so excited and hoping your imagination would be able to fill in the blanks of not having sight. Your hand shot up to his mask, getting a little ahead of yourself and he grabbed your wrist. “Sorry, got too excited.” You admitted and he let your wrist slide down slightly, now holding your hand. “Too eager…” His voice turned gruff and you adjusted in your seat. He let your hand go and placed his hand over your eyes, the warm and rough skin such a contrast on yours.

König looked at your face, his hand covering over half of it and he bit back a groan. “Can you see anything?” He asked and you swallowed thickly, rubbing your thighs together a little. “No, nothing. I promise.” Your voice came out in a whine, making the whole situation even more difficult for the both of you. You wanted his hands everywhere, all over your body and you definitely didn’t want him covering your eyes.

“Good, maus.” He paused and you could hear some rustling, undoubtedly him taking the mask off. It was a good thing you weren’t standing, his praise left your knees weak. You drew a deep breath, your hands itching to touch his face. You flinched slightly feeling his free hand find yours, very gently taking it and guiding you towards his face. “Be gentle.” He said softly before your fingers grazed his chin. “I will.” Your voice trembled and you leaned forward, not feeling any resistance from him. Your chest was pressing into his shoulder and your free hand was on his chest. König was watching your every move with a smile, glad that he could let his face breathe for a moment. Your fingertips tickled his chin, dancing over his jaw and down the lines of his neck.

“I can feel your pulse.” You giggled and you could hear him let out a chuckle. He knew his pulse was elevated but that was okay, you were allowed to know. Your fingers moved up again, back over his chin and to his lips. Your pointer finger tracing over the lines, you tried imagining what he looked like. König felt warm, trying to do anything in his power to not pull you into his lap. Your face was so amusing to him, the parts he could see. Your lips curled into a thoughtful pout and while he couldn’t see it, he just knew your eyebrows were furrowed. All these little mannerisms of yours he had learned so fast.

“I think you’re handsome.” You remarked, hands moving to his hair. “Do you now?” He asked, smiling. “I bet you’re even more handsome when you’re smiling.” You added on, not realising the hand you had on his chest had moved down to his stomach. König was glad your eyes were covered because the closer your hand got to the waistband of his pants, the harder he was starting to get.

“Alright, Maus. That was enough fun.” He told you and you instinctively pulled your hands away and awaited further instruction. The hand over your eyes moved, now holding the side of your face as you blinked and adjusted to the light. His blue eyes were staring intensely at you. You looked significantly more happy than no twenty minutes prior and König felt amused knowing it was because of him.

“Part of me was hoping you’d not be wearing the mask.” You remarked and grabbed his hand again. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders and let your head rest on his chest, grabbing your book again.

“You’re getting too comfortable with me around.” His words and tone were contradictory to his body, relaxing into the couch and into your touch. “I know.” The words came out like a squeak, trying to ignore everything you felt to simply listen to his heartbeat. “I won’t be around forever to protect you, I highly doubt your fiancé will want to keep me around.” He added on, feeling you play with his fingers. Biting back tears, you turned the page in your book. “I know.”

It hurt him just as bad to think about and if you were marrying possibly anyone else, he’d think it was for the best. This man though, from his reputation and what he could find about him in his own research just seemed awful. The only thing he had going for him was that he’s rich and that’s probably what your father saw. It made König so angry, he could have taken care of the situation himself. He was a bodyguard though, he wasn’t in military anymore, those days were behind him.

He had to remind himself that as he watched the room, ignoring the flashes of the camera as you took your wedding photos. He could stare at you for hours and any bad thing in his life would have been alright. If it wasn’t for the lump of a man next to you, he would have been entirely relaxed. However you were entirely uncomfortable, feeling him hold your waist and feeling his hand dip down to touch a little more of you. It was written all over your face and you were sure the pictures would show that.

“The way your bodyguard looks at me should be reason enough to fire him.” Tom spat at you and furrowed your brows. “It’s because of your gleaming first impression.” You said in return and he rolled his eyes. You knew he was acting like this because he was scared. König was scary and you were simply lucky that you had him on your side, you didn’t want to know what it was like to have him as an enemy. In his mind, it took one interaction with Tom to know that was exactly what he was, an enemy.

“It all doesn’t matter. He’s not coming into my home. Brute of a man, no better than an animal. The moment our marriage contract is final, he’s gone.” König could hear the conversation and it amused him. He thought he was getting rid of him that easily? It was a fucking joke. Tom thought König was an animal, he could show him an animal. He was your guard dog after all. “You’re half the man he is.” You said, leaning over and fixing your hair in the mirror. Biting back a smile, he shook his head to himself. “That’s my maus.” He thought to himself, anger slowly subsiding as he realised your growth. You were standing more and more up for yourself.

Trudging behind König, you watched him carrying a big tactical bag. The sun was slowly starting to go down, painting the sky in a light pink colour and causing a chilly breeze to flow through the trees. In moments like this, you realised that the wooded area around your house was actually quite pretty.

“What’s are we going to do?” You asked as he stopped walking. Something about him was different that day, his clothes seemed more tactical, his demeaner was darker and well you felt even a little scared of him. “Well, you don’t seem to be enjoying the fighting training so I thought we’d take a break from that.” He started, patting a log for you to sit as he started opening his bag. You sat down where he said, watching him pull a bunch of things from the bag. “Figure I’d see how good your survival tactics are or at least, how good you can hide in a scary situation.” A wave of fear and something else travelled through your body. “According to your husband to be, I’m fired the day you get married. I have to know you can at least hide if you’re in trouble.” He added on, eyes lingering on you. You hadn’t realised he heard that.

“You heard that?” You asked, fingers mindlessly toying with some of the gear. “Yeah I heard that. I also heard him call me an animal.” He grumbled and you suddenly realised why he was angry. You felt bad, until you saw him pull another mask over the ski mask. The loose fabric hung over his shoulders and had light bleached strips around the eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you. “What is that?” You asked and you could tell he was knitting his brows together in confusion. “It’s my sniper hood from the military.” König explained and you were still giggling. “Is it that amusing to you?” He asked, tone entirely different from before.

He knew he was being harsh that day, but he just was angry about the whole situation. When he came up with this training, he had you in mind, he needed to know you could run in a bad situation. For his own peace of mind.

“I though you said I needed to be able to hide in a scary situations? If you’re chasing me like that, it’s not scary at all.” You smiled and he adjusted the hood a little to sit right. You didn’t think this was scary, the same masked face that had other men begging for mercy? Maybe he wanted to scare you a little, maybe he was to easy on you the whole time. “You don’t think I’m scary, Maus? I’ll show you scary and I’ll show that weak fucker you call a fiancé what an animal is.” His tone was dark and shut you up immediately. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. “Get ready to run, Maus. I’m not going easy on you.”

He had given you a 10 minute head start and you had taken off running, throwing caution to the wind. You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into him but his tone and the look in his eye made you fear for what would happen if he found you. Part of you was excited too, wondering if you should not try too hard to hide. You rejected that idea quickly the second you heard rustling from a few metres back. Were the 10 minutes up already?

You picked up your pace, running a little faster than before. However you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer, your side already starting to cramp up as you ran. You’d have to try and hide and that was scarier than running. Coming to a stop, you looked around, seeing trees and only trees all around you. Nothing obvious to hide behind, which might have been a good thing. You tucked your body behind a nearby tree and tried regulating your breathing, hoping that wouldn’t be the thing to give you away.

König’s emotions had come to a middle, he was angry, frustrated and so fucking turned on he thought his cock would rip through his pants. He wanted you, in every way and while he had done a good job of controlling himself the last months, he couldn’t anymore. Stalking through the woods and feeling like a predator, his veins were on fire.

“Are you hiding, maus?” He asked, not quite raising his voice as he walked through the woods. He knew his tone was patronizing but he couldn’t help it, he knew exactly where you were. Not wanting to crush your spirit fully though, he drew it all out. Anticipation was half the fun, at least from his experiences.

You could hear his voice and your heartrate instantly sped up. Cupping a hand over your mouth to steady your breathing, you debated your options of staying in place or running again. “What’s going to happen if he catches me?” You thought to yourself, thighs pressing together to try and dull the ache that was forming between your legs. “Mausss.” His voice was still distant but his tone taunting you, now this was a game and now… you wanted to win. Pushing off the ground, you took off running in the opposite direction of his voice. You ignored the aching in your side and the excited feeling in your stomach.

“I’ve got you now, Maus!” You heard him call with a laugh, making your blood run cold. Despite all your aches you pushed yourself to run even faster and tried your best to tune out the rustling and the sound of heavy boots getting closer. “Fuck.” You muttered to yourself, not being able to regulate your breathing very well as you tried to push yourself even harder. You knew he could see you, so you didn’t bother staying quiet as a grunt of frustration left your mouth.

The footsteps were right behind you now, König’s voice feeling like it was right in your ear. “If you don’t run faster, Maus, I’m going to catch you.” Goosebumps coated your skin and as badly as you wanted to do as you were told, you couldn’t. König could sense this, your helplessness not to doing anything to stifle his arousal one bit. He couldn’t take it anymore, lurching forward and grabbing you. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you up before forcing you to the ground. You screamed at the sudden attack, squirming and kicking as he easily manhandled you onto your back. It hurt a little but it was a good kind of hurt, the kind of hurt that made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Only you couldn’t because of the way he had you pinned, large body in between your legs and one hand holding both of yours over your head as the other supported his weight.

You were so hyperaware of everything, the animalistic look in his eyes, the way your cunt was aching with arousal, both of your heavy breathing and König’s big, incredibly hard bulge pressing into your lower stomach. “Fuck.” You breathed, hips moving unintentionally to rut against him. “Does me chasing you like an animal really make you feel that way?” He asked, the taunting tone still evident in his voice. This wasn’t the sweet and kind König you knew. “König please.” You whined tugging your arms down to try and touch him. He was being so condescending, laughing at your struggle.

Your body under his like this was everything he had wanted, your eyes filled with lust and also a little bit of fear. Oh when he was done with you…

He let your hands go, lifting his mask to rest just on his nose before leaning down. You let out a soft gasp at the sight of his lips, shock at his resolve melting this badly. König held your face, adjusting his hips and angling them to press into your core. He watched your eyes shut, moaning his name softly. His lips pressed into your roughly, allowing you to moan against lips and you could feel his mask tickling your nose. His tongue snaking into your mouth as your hands gripped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through the compression shirt.

Your head was swimming, his kisses reducing you to a puddle of mush in his arms. It was all so much, the sounds of the trees rustling together with the earthy smell and the feeling of his body on you. This wasn’t something you thought you’d be into, not until now. He bucked his hips and you yelped against his lips, feeling just how big he was. He smiled, moving his lips down to the side of your neck as his hands moved to your hips and then to your ass. He gave the flesh a squeeze before raising your hips to meet his again. “You’re so loud, Maus. I’ve hardly even touched you yet.” He said against your skin at the sound of another moan leaving your mouth. “Wonder how loud you’ll be when I’m stretching you open, that sweet, sweet pussy.” He licked a spot on your neck before biting down, causing you to cry out.

He pushed your shirt up to rest just over your boobs, hand grabbing the band of your bra and giving it a rough yank that you knew would leave marks on your shoulders. Your thin bra straps ripped as he tugged it down, showing your bare chest to him and exposing your nipples to the chilly dusk air. He undid the remaining part of your bra and tossed it somewhere into the woods. He leaned back on his heels, looking at you exposed to him. Your chest was rising and falling heavily and the marks he had left on your neck from sucking and biting were slowly turning red. “Your body was made for me, Maus.” He grumbled, his hands moving from your waist up to toy with your nipples. His hand cupped your breast, thumb flicking the bud as you squirmed slightly. “I just want to wreck you, destroy you for that fuck who’s going to marry you.” His lips wrapped around your other nipple, biting down on your breast for a moment to hear you scream. He knew the balance between pain and pleasure and it was something you had never experienced. You knew for a fact you’d be ruined after this.

König pulled the waist band of your pants, pulling them off together with your underwear before undoing his pants. He didn’t bother taking them off, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free and against his lower stomach. You couldn’t help but watch, wondering just how you were going to fit him inside of you. Before doing anything else, he pulled his mask back down properly and grabbed your legs. You could feel your slick dripping from your pussy as he put your legs on his shoulders. His fingers moved to your clit, spreading your lips apart to swirl his thumb over the nub. You tried scrambling from the intense feeling only for his free hand to slap the side of your thigh, undoubtedly leaving a large hand print behind. “Don’t fucking move.” He warned, continuing to draw circles over the nub. You had never been this wet before and König was taking mental notes.

“You wanted me to do this, when I told you to run, you wanted me to catch you and make you go dumb on my cock.” He remarked and you nodded, head lulling as you did so. König chuckled, lining his cock up to your entrance. Nuzzling his head into your calf, he pushed himself into you and the stretch made you call out. Gripping the dirt around you as he bottomed out. With the minimal prep he gave you, tears brimmed your eyes. Not only due to his size but also due to the position, making his tip kiss your cervix in a way that hurt so good.

“Oh Maus.” He groaned, voice sounding like a growled as he fucked into you. You were a crying, moaning mess all tight around him and König could have cum alone from looking at you. He folded you in half, one arm by your head as the other held your waist for leverage with your legs still on his shoulders. His face was close to yours, wanting to see every little expression as he fucked you like an animal, grunts leaving his lips with every thrust. “Tell me-“ He started, hand coming up to wipe a tear from your eye. “Tell me how fucking good it feels to get fucked by a savage brute.” He was using Tom’s words against you and it made you clench around him.

“It feels so good.” You cried as you felt the knot in your stomach get close to bursting. “König, I only want you.” You added on, any thoughts of Tom (not that you had many thoughts of him to begin with) getting fucked right out of your head. Your orgasm hit you hard, your leg shaking as your pussy clamped down on him. Nothing but incoherent babble came out of your mouth and König found him pulling back to look at where your bodies connected, watching the way your cunt was fluttering around him. However he was nowhere near done himself and even if he was, when it came to you he was insatiable.

The small pause only lasted one moment before he started fucking you again, your eyes shooting open as you tried to squirm away, the pleasure being too much. “Your pussy is so tight, Maus. No matter how hard I fuck you, you’re not opening up for me.” He laughed, taking note of the way your legs were still shaking and your breasts bouncing with each thrust. Your skin was hot to the touch and you were trying to get a grip of anything for some kind of a hold on. You looked so fucked out, eyes glossy and lips swollen as you murmured incoherently. He was using you like his own personal sex toy, trying to reach his own orgasm now.

Pulling you off of the ground, he allowed your legs to now wrap around his waist as he held you up. Lifting and dropping you on his cock as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Every thrust had you crying out, overstimulated and closer to another orgasm. König’s eyes were locked with yours and you could tell he was furrowing his brows. “Please, please cum inside me.” You begged, voice barely a whisper. His eyes widened, pace faltering at your words. “Maus…” His words trailed off, mask covered face burying into your neck. “Please, König.” You begged again, sobbing as your orgasm washed over you. The man pulled you down on him fully and halted his movements, cock twitching as he filled your pussy to the brim.

“You made a mess.” He grumbled, feeling both of your release drip from your pussy as he stayed still inside of you. “Mmm.” You hummed, head resting on his shoulder as your body gave into exhaustion and wrapped around him for warmth. “Is my Maus tired?” He cooed, one hand stroking your hair. Your whole body ached in the best way and you were absolutely exhausted. “You aren’t?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him. The animalistic look in his eyes had died down, his normal expression taking over again. “I can’t be, I need to take care of you.” He said softly, hands brushing your messy hair out of your face. “I think that’s fair. You did tackle me to the ground.” You yawned and he shook his head with a laugh. “Oh my dear Maus. I love you so much.”

König had helped you clean yourself up, even helped you into bed but he didn’t stay the night with you. He retired to his own room, thinking about the way he lost control of himself and the way it all shouldn’t have happened, especially not given your circumstances. It wasn’t like he could go to your father and say you shouldn’t marry Tom, or tell him that he was in love with you… let alone that you had sex. It could make things even more difficult for you. Not to mention the age difference, he was almost twice your age. Despite all these thoughts, he couldn’t help himself but think about how good you felt around him and how sweet you sounded screaming his name.

You woke up to the sound of a knocking on your door, sitting up in bed you told them to come in. König peaked into the room and you couldn’t help the bright smile that formed on your face. It was in that moment he decided that all the circumstances didn’t matter. Even if he had to be your guard dog for the rest of his life, even if you were married and he was just there to satisfy your needs from that asshole, protect you from him, he would be okay with that.

“Maus.” He said softly, walking over to you bed and gently sitting next to you. “I was getting worried because you weren’t up yet.” He added on and you found your cheeks getting warm. How could you admit you weren’t entirely capable of walking after last night’s events? Between the running and the sex, your whole body was sore.

He pulled back the blankets and grabbed your calves, assuming you were sore before you even said anything. Wearing nothing but a sleep shirt and underwear, you felt exposed despite the previous day. “Are you that sore?” He asked with an amused tone to his voice. “Can you blame me?” You asked, listening to his hearty laugh. You couldn’t help yourself as your hand came up to his face, tracing his jaw through the ski mask. Your fingers moved the edge of the mask, gently tugging it upwards so that his lips were free and you leaned forward to press a light kiss to them. His hand had stopped moving at your actions, suddenly unsure what to do with them until he moved them upwards to your waist. He lifted you into his lap, leaving the mask half on as he kissed you again.

“You like it when I pick you up like that don’t you?” He asked, the slight mocking tone from the day before back in his voice. “I do.” You admitted, gathering your strength to straddle his lap instead. König leaned himself back into your pillows, amused at where this was going despite you being sore. Hands holding your thighs and slowly moving upwards, taking your sleep shirt with them. “I thought you were sore.” He remarked as you slowly grinded down on him. You were most definitely sore, but God you needed him again. “I am, but I’m also stubborn.” You said and he nodded his head. “That you most definitely are, Maus. So beautifully stubborn.” He said and pulled the shirt from your body, leaving you fully bare aside from your underwear.

Leaning forward, he kissed over your neck and collar bones as his hands grazed over the sides of your breasts. You leaned away from him, tutting slightly and he shot you a confused look. “I want to see you too and I don’t necessarily mean your face, but if you’re feeling generous.” You smiled, sitting down on his thighs. The man shook his head, hands still gently rubbing over your skin. “Nice try. I can give you half of what you want though.” He said, tugging his shirt over his head. “Stubborn girl.” He threw his shirt to the side and looked at you smiling at him. “If you want the rest off, you’re going to have to work for it.” He said, watching you take him in. He was so muscular, freckles spotting his chest lightly and a small trail of hair disappearing into his pants.

“That’s no problem.” You said and leaned down, running your tongue over his abs to the edge of his pants. Undoing the button and zipper of his pants, you tugged the fabric down together with his boxers. Seeing his cock like this made you sceptical once more about how he was going to fit. “Maus, you don’t have to do this.” He said, brushing your hair from your face. “But I want too.” You told him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “A thank you for all the things you’ve done for me.” You added on and wrapped your lips around his tip. Your tongue swirling over his slit as you arched your back and stuck your ass in the ear. “Fuck, at least move over here. Let me touch you.” He hissed and you moved, your head resting on his thigh as you sucked his cock from the side. His fingers moved to your panty covered slit, pulling them to the side and gently rubbing over your clit. You hummed around his cock, taking more of him into your mouth and jerking off what didn’t fit.

“Fuck that feels good.” He groaned, hips bucking into your mouth as he slipped two fingers into you. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched you out as he tried to keep his hips still, not wanting to hurt you. “Maus you better stop if you want me to last. You wore me out yesterday too.” He sounded serious and it made you feel good, at least you were on the same level. You pulled him out of your mouth, your head falling back onto his thigh as you moaned out. His fingers curling into you and grazing that sweet spot inside of you.

Pulling his fingers out of you, you sighed and moved to straddle his waist again. His fingers moved to your lips, waiting for you to lick them clean. “Good god, what did I do in my life time to deserve this.” He said, watching your lips wrap around his fingers. “You’ve been a really good guard dog.” You said once he took his fingers out of your mouth. He shook his head and grabbed your ass, guiding his cock into you slowly. He knew you were sore from the day before, he was going to take it slow today. Your nails dug into his chest at the stretch, back arching at the feeling. Your chest was in his face and he couldn’t help himself but wrap his lips around your nipple as he thrust into you. It was slow but forceful and the extra sensation made you whimper. “God, I love you.” You admitted in a moan, his cockhead hitting that sweet spot in you. His pace picked up and his hand pulled your head down, lips tangling for a messy kiss.

“Say it again.” He mumbled against your lips, holding your hair as he fucked you softly. “I love you.” You repeated, feeling yourself getting close. “I love you so much- oh my God.” You cried out, cumming so hard tears brimmed your eyes. König wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts before pulling your lips to his for another kiss as he unloaded inside of you again.

Petting your hair as you came down from your highs, he put his mask on correctly again after peppering your neck with kisses. His nose nuzzling the side of your face as his hands rubbed over your bare back with you still on top of him. You were utterly in love, the post orgasm glow all over your body as he continued to rub over your skin.

“I don’t want to marry him. You know that.” You said and König nodded, not entirely sure where you were going with this. Surely you had thought of your circumstances too. “Maus, his words only mean so much. Even if he doesn’t want me there, I’ll be there. Protecting you, taking care of you. If he so much as touches you in a way that makes you frown, I’ll take his hand. I promise you that.” König's tone was so serious, making butterflies fill your stomach. "You promise?" You asked, tracing over the ridges of his face through the mask, trying to use muscle memory to see if you could see his face in your mind.

"I promise."

A/N: idk what came over me but I got possessed. Now I'll be mia as i really need to study. Wasn't planning on finishing this until the second half of the week.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #könig smut #könig #könig x reader

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