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inknopewetrust · 11 months

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𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #fanficition #x reader #x fem reader #fanfic #x female reader #x female y/n #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac

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elryuse · 2 months

Note

Hey can I ask for yandere xiaoting ?

Devil In Disguise

YANDERE XIAOTING X MALE READER

Xiaoting, a vision of flawless beauty sculpted by stylists and fueled by caffeine, pushed open the familiar door of her favorite cafe. The air, thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans, was a welcome escape from the sterility of her practice studio. But today, the enticing scent was overshadowed by a different kind of allure.

Behind the counter stood a boy with hair the color of dark chocolate that seemed to absorb the warm light filtering through the window. His eyes, a deep brown that held a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine, were focused intently on the espresso machine. He was handsome, yes, undeniably so, but it was his smile – genuine, unburdened by the pressures of fame that she carried like a second skin – that truly captivated her.

"Can I get you something?" he asked, his voice a pleasant baritone that rumbled in a way that made her knees weak.

"Hmm," Xiaoting purred, leaning against the counter. Her stage persona, a mix of icy cool and smoldering sensuality, came naturally. It was a shield, a carefully crafted armor that protected her from the emotional onslaught of constant scrutiny. Here, though, in this tiny cafe with its worn wooden tables and mismatched mugs, it felt heavy. "Idk.. Surprise me."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine once more. "Coming right up," he said, his smile widening. As he worked, she stole glances, memorizing the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he steamed the milk, the way his fingers danced across the espresso machine with a practiced ease. Finally, he slid a steaming cup towards her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Here you go," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "Hope it surprises you pleasantly."

"I'm sure it will," Xiaoting said, her voice a husky murmur. "By the way, I'm Xiaoting."

He smiled, his name tag reading "Y/n. Nice to meet you, Xiaoting. So, what brings a beautiful girl like you to my humble cafe?"

The question was simple, but it sent a jolt through her. Rarely did people see beyond the mask she wore for the cameras. An idea, delicious and dangerous, sparked in her mind.

"Just looking for a little escape," she said, her voice tinged with a calculated vulnerability. They talked for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a stolen half-hour between customers. She learned about his dreams of becoming a musician, his love for classic novels that she'd only ever seen adapted into movies, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at a particularly bad joke she told. It was intoxicating, this taste of normalcy, of genuine connection.

But as she went to leave, her heart plummeted.

"Hey," Y/n called. "I don't usually ask this, but…" He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a napkin. "Would you like to keep in touch?"

A thrill shot through her. This was better than she could have hoped for. But then, a girl, blonde and bubbly, linked arms with Y/n, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey babe, sorry I'm late!"

Xiaoting's smile froze, the warmth in her replaced by a chilling emptiness that spread through her like ice. "Girlfriend?" she croaked, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt.

Y/n's face fell. "Oh, right. This is…" His eyes darted between them, confusion etched on his face. "This is Xiaoting, and…"

"No need to introduce me," Xiaoting cut in, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that tasted like ash in her mouth. It was a performance, a carefully crafted mask once more, but this time, it was fueled by something far more potent than practiced charm. "It's lovely to meet you. Y/n tells me wonderful things about you."

The lie flowed effortlessly, a seed planted in the fertile ground of the girl's insecurities. Later, alone in her luxurious apartment, the mask shattered. Rage contorted her face, a terrifying transformation that would send shivers down the spine of anyone who witnessed it. A mere pop star, a nobody, dared to have someone she desired? The thought was an insult, a challenge to her carefully constructed world.

The following days were a blur of activity. Xiaoting, the master manipulator with a team of loyal and discreet individuals at her beck and call, orchestrated a flawless plan. A carefully placed photo, an anonymous tip to the tabloids that fueled the ever-hungry gossip machine, and a manufactured public meltdown on Y/n's girlfriend's part did the trick. Days later, Y/n, heartbroken and confused, found himself sitting across from Xiaoting in her opulent apartment, a stark contrast to the cozy cafe.

Y/n stared at Xiaoting, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Tears had carved glistening tracks through the caked-on makeup his ex had insisted on before their "emotional" break-up video.

"It's all a lie, isn't it?" he rasped, his voice raw with betrayal. "The cheating, the whole thing."

Xiaoting, perched on a plush velvet sofa, her designer dress impeccably styled, reached out and squeezed his hand. Her touch, usually electric, felt cold and calculating. "Oh, Y/n," she cooed, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "Don't listen to the media vultures. They just want to create drama."

Her practiced smile didn't reach her eyes. Y/n, however, blinded by grief and the subtle shift in her demeanor, clung to her words like a lifeline.

"She seemed so genuine in the video," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair. "She even had… proof."

A flicker of triumph passed through Xiaoting's eyes, masked by a concerned frown. "Proof that can be easily fabricated, darling," she purred. "You know how these things work."

Y/n nodded numbly, his mind reeling. Xiaoting leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "You deserve better, Y/n. Someone who will cherish you, who understands you. Someone like me."

He looked up, his gaze searching hers. In that moment, a flicker of something dark, something possessive, glinted in her eyes. But Y/n, lost in his emotional turmoil, missed it.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," he whispered, defeated.

Xiaoting's smile bloomed, genuine this time. "Then believe in me," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous possessiveness. "Believe that I can make you happy."

And in that vulnerable state, Y/n did. Blinded by the illusion of comfort and the toxic sweetness of her words, he allowed himself to fall into her carefully constructed web.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Xiaoting, the idol with a seemingly perfect life, became his haven. But the haven was a gilded cage, its bars disguised as luxury and affection.

His phone calls with friends became "intrusions into their healing." His attempts to pursue music, his long-held dream, were dismissed as "unrealistic distractions." The outside world became a blur, filtered through Xiaoting's carefully curated narrative.

One evening, amidst a candlelit dinner, Xiaoting casually mentioned a camera crew arriving the next day to film a "day in the life" segment.

Y/n froze, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "A camera crew? Here?"

Xiaoting, all innocence, feigned surprise. "Oh honey, didn't I mention? It's a surprise! They want to showcase our beautiful love story."

His unease morphed into terror. The manufactured reality she'd created suffocated him. But before he could protest, she reached for his hand, her grip a vice.

"Don't worry, darling," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "It'll be perfect. After all, the whole world deserves to see how happy we are, right?"

Y/n's pleas were drowned out by the manufactured sweetness of her voice. Trapped in her gilded cage, his future stretched before him, not a haven of love, but a prison built on lies and a terrifying obsession.

The camera crew bustled around the apartment, their presence a suffocating weight on Y/n's chest. Every stolen glance at Xiaoting confirmed his growing suspicion. Her smile, practiced for countless interviews, seemed strained around the edges. Her eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured cheer, held a glint of something manic.

As they filmed their "candid" interactions, Y/n fumbled for words. Xiaoting, ever the professional, filled the silence with fabricated anecdotes about their whirlwind romance, peppered with possessiveness disguised as affection.

Later, after the crew departed, the air grew thick with a suffocating tension. Y/n, his hands clammy with unease, finally found his voice.

"Xiaoting," he started, his voice barely a whisper. "It felt… staged. Everything."

Xiaoting's smile faltered for a brief moment, then reappeared, wider and somehow colder. "Staged? How silly, darling. It was just a little awkwardness, that's all."

He wasn't convinced. The way she'd hovered over him, her touch lingering a beat too long, the way her gaze flickered to the phone whenever it buzzed – it all screamed control.

"Can I… can I call my friends sometime?" Y/n asked, his voice small.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Xiaoting's face, quickly masked. "Oh, honey, you know how the media is. They'd twist anything into a story. We wouldn't want them to paint a wrong picture of our perfect relationship, would we?"

Y/n swallowed the retort that rose in his throat. He felt a growing sense of isolation, a gnawing loneliness that her constant presence couldn't fill.

Days blurred into weeks. Phone calls became a distant memory, replaced by Xiaoting's curated schedule of "romantic outings" and "couple interviews." He was a prop in her meticulously crafted narrative, his own dreams and desires pushed further and further out of reach.

One night, while Xiaoting slept, Y/n stumbled upon her phone. A morbid curiosity gnawed at him. He knew it was wrong, but the need to understand his situation overpowered his conscience.

His breath hitched as he saw text messages exchanged with a private number. The messages were cold, calculating, filled with instructions about manipulating interviews and maintaining their "perfect" facade.

But what truly sent chills down his spine was the final message: "Target successfully isolated. Phase two: public declaration."

Y/n's blood ran cold. He wasn't Xiaoting's lover; he was a pawn in a twisted game orchestrated by a woman consumed by a possessive obsession. Fear, sharp and primal, clawed at his throat.

He knew then that he had to escape. But how? Xiaoting controlled everything – his access to the outside world, his finances, even his reputation.

He spent the next few days formulating a plan, a desperate gamble fuelled by a newfound strength. He started subtly leaving messages for his old bandmate on social media, hidden in plain sight within innocuous comments. He pretended to be enthusiastic about Xiaoting's upcoming album release, subtly planting seeds of doubt about their relationship in interviews.

The night before the album release party, Y/n finally made his move. He waited until Xiaoting fell asleep, then packed a small bag with essentials. He knew she'd wake up soon, so he had to be quick.

He tiptoed towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest. Just as he grasped the knob, a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Going somewhere, darling?" Xiaoting stood there, her eyes blazing with a terrifying fury.

Y/n's mouth went dry. "Xiaoting, I… I just need some air."

"No," she said, her voice a steely whisper. "You're not going anywhere. You belong to me now."

Y/n knew then that reasoning was futile. He had to fight his way out. He lunged for the door, but Xiaoting was faster. She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

A struggle ensued, desperate and brutal. Y/n, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, managed to break free and sprint towards the window. He threw it open, the cool night air a welcome shock.

"Y/n don't!!" Xiaoting screamed, her voice laced with a chilling desperation.

He didn't look back. He scrambled onto the fire escape, adrenaline masking the fear threatening to consume him. He descended quickly, ignoring the burn in his legs, until he reached the ground and melted into the night.

He knew this was just the beginning. Xiaoting wouldn't give up easily. But for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope. He was free, and he would do He sprinted through the deserted streets, the rhythmic pounding of his feet the only sound in the night. Glancing back every few seconds, his heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs. He didn't see Xiaoting, but the chilling memory of her desperate plea sent shivers down his spine.

Reaching his old friend's apartment, he pounded on the door with shaking hands. Relief flooded him when the familiar face of his bandmate, Mark, appeared. But before Y/n could explain, a car screeched to a halt outside, its headlights momentarily blinding him.

"Y/n!" Mark gasped, pulling him back inside just as the apartment door splintered. Xiaoting, her face contorted with rage, stormed in, a gaggle of security guards flanking her.

"There you are!" she hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Y/n's frantic pleas for help fell on deaf ears. The security guards, well-versed in the art of celebrity wrangling, subdued him with practiced ease. Mark, powerless against the tide, could only watch in horror.

Back in the gilded cage, Xiaoting's rage had morphed into a chilling calm. Gone was the facade of the loving girlfriend. Y/n sat across from her, his wrists bound with silk scarves, the very picture of a dethroned king.

"You shouldn't have tried to leave," Xiaoting said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Now, things will have to change."

A cold dread filled Y/n. He knew then that escape was no longer an option. Xiaoting wouldn't simply lock him away; she would control him. His career, his reputation, his very identity – all would become pawns in her twisted game.

The following days were a blur of media manipulation. Xiaoting, the heartbroken victim, spun a tale of a troubled boyfriend on the verge of a breakdown. Public sympathy flowed freely, further isolating Y/n.

He was allowed to keep his phone, but under constant surveillance. His band, ostracized and pressured by Xiaoting's powerful team, reluctantly distanced themselves. The world he once knew crumbled around him.

Weeks turned into months. Y/n became a ghost of his former self, a talented musician reduced to a silent shadow beside the ever-smiling Xiaoting. He was forced to participate in interviews, his every word carefully scripted.

One day, during a live performance, a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. As Xiaoting launched into a love song, he reached for the microphone, his voice hoarse but resolute.

"This isn't real," he rasped, the words catching in his throat. "She's keeping me prisoner."

The music screeched to a halt. Shock rippled through the audience. Security guards rushed the stage before Y/n could utter another word.

But the damage was done. The carefully crafted facade had a gaping hole. Whispers turned into accusations. Public opinion shifted, a seed of doubt planted.

Xiaoting, however, remained unfazed. Public scrutiny was a game she knew how to play. She painted Y/n as delusional, a victim of his own mental breakdown. Her carefully calculated tears and veiled threats of self-harm swayed the narrative back in her favor.

Y/n, isolated and silenced once more, sank deeper into despair. He knew he might never truly escape Xiaoting's grasp. She had woven a web of control so intricate, so pervasive, that it had become his reality.

The story ended not with a dramatic escape or a heroic rescue, but with a slow, suffocating descent. Y/n remained a prisoner, not behind bars, but within the gilded cage of a twisted obsession, his music and his dreams forever silenced by the chilling melody of Xiaoting's love song.

#xiaoting #kep1er #kep1er xiaoting #yandere x reader #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update #yandere #social media #lost media #media

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seospicybin · 2 years

Text

GLASS.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Han is a photographer who just moved into a new apartment and he couldn’t tell if it was accidental or fate that he saw you through the window of your apartment with his camera. And the next thing he knows, he spends most of his days watching you through his camera lens. (10,5k words)

Author's note: Just Jisung being a pervy neighbor :)

Content warning: Infidelity.

People should fall in love with their eyes closed.

But Han falls in love with his eyes wide open, through the looking glass.

After traveling to a few countries for his photography exhibitions, he decided to get back and got someplace to settle for a little while until new ideas struck his head and the cycle starts all over again.

When his eyes first landed on you, it was accidental.

He went out to the balcony one morning, trying to capture a picture of the gargoyle of the building. He took a few shots then dragged his camera while kept looking through the viewer and eventually found you.

He looked through the window and saw you were staring at your own reflection in the mirror while sitting on a stool and gracefully combing your hair with so much care.

It wasn't every day he saw women brushing their hair yet it also wasn't something as extraordinary as jumping off a plane for skydiving but peculiarly, he found it very interesting.

He took a few pictures of you just sitting against your vanity, combing your hair, and once in a while raking it with your fingers.

Then you put the hairbrush down and just stared at your own reflection like you haven't seen it for a long, long time.

You were looking for something in the reflection of yourself as it looks back at you.

Then from out of nowhere, another person entered the frame. A man came behind you and put his hands around your shoulders.

You talked to each other through the reflection in the mirror then he kissed the top of your head before left.

The smile that you put on your face for him faded like the day turned to night.

And you faced your reflection again with eyes that were still searching for something in it.

Han couldn't help himself.

Not when your apartment was right across from him and he could see everything like your life is a living miniature except that he couldn't play with the person in it.

In the morning, he woke up around 7 because he knew you would wake up around that time.

He had put on a tripod for his camera that was set just behind the window of his balcony.

As he waited for the coffee machine to finish, he looked through the camera with squinted eyes.

You were awake but didn't get up from your bed yet.

You had one hand under your head and your eyes were looking at the void of your bedroom, out of your head, out of this world.

He always took this moment to adore you, how you looked so beautiful by just being awake.

Then your boyfriend came into the frame again, shattering your bubble of thoughts and saying bye to you for he was going to work or whatever business he has to do outside, Han couldn't care less.

Having him out of the house felt like his least favorite movie character was absent from the scene, it was when Han felt the most triumphant.

That was because he can have you for himself.

Han had been observing you for a week now. He learned a lot from just watching you through the lens of his camera.

Other than you have a boyfriend, you are a model. He had seen some of ads you did for a few fashion brands.

After stretching on the bed, you woke up and went to the kitchen, it was out of his sight but you would return with a plate of breakfast of toast and scrambled egg, ate it on the sofa in the living room while watching something on the TV.

After that, you would change your clothes to workout attire, you usually do yoga but that day, you decided to run on the treadmill while catching up on the TV series you were watching from last night.

Han finished his breakfast when you got out of the bathroom, it usually took you more than half an hour and he believed today you took the shower.

You would choose your clothes with a lot of consideration like it would decide how the day would turn out for you. It took most of your morning and you settled with pair of jeans and a white peasant blouse, then spread them out on your bed.

After that, you went to the dresser and pulled the top drawer open to choose your undergarments.

You took the matching one in pale blue color.

"No, not that one!" Han whispered as if you would hear his opinion.

Somehow his manifestation worked as you put them back on the drawer, you took a pair in cream color and another pair in pale pink color with floral embroidery.

Han hissed, also got torn between the two.

"I think you would look good in both," he said to the quiet of his apartment as his words bounced back to him.

The cream-colored one was chosen at the end.

"Let's see if you make the right choice!" He beamed and swallowed air as he knew what view he would see in mere seconds.

You untied your robe and let it slide onto the floor.

Han swallowed hard and all of a sudden, he was getting thirsty but it was not the kind that would be easily quenched by water.

The curve of your body, the arch of your back, your damp hair stuck to the skin, you slightly turned to the side, revealing yourself to him as if you knew you were being watched.

And he could see all of you, the hikes and dips of your body but his eyes when to your pelvic bones that led him to see that heavenly thing between your legs.

His mouth got dry and he so badly wanted to lick the beads of water rolling down your skin.

You put on the chosen undergarments and stood by the standing mirror, checking yourself out.

It was really obvious that you are a model from the way you tuck your foot to the front as if you were posing for a photoshoot.

Han sighed delightfully, "seems like you are right," he agreed on your choice, the color complimented your skin tone so well.

It was fascinating for him to watch you pacing around the room to get ready for the day. He was there just admiring everything from afar but sometimes it felt like he was there with you.

You bent down the vanity as you applied lipstick on your lips, smacking them together and rubbed off the excess from the outer line of your lips.

You took one last look of yourself in the mirror then smiled in satisfaction.

It was such a simple gesture but enough to make his heart flutter inside.

Han quickly turned off his camera and headed out as well, so he could meet you.

The elevator happened to be stopping on his floor and he ran to hold the button to keep it open, then rushed inside. He knew you would be coming in any second so he holds it open as long as he could.

He sighed in relief when he saw you came into his line of vision not long after and went inside the elevator.

"Good morning!" You greeted him while clutching your bag in front of you.

"Morning!" He muttered back with a sheepish smile.

You returned the smile but it got cut by the sound of your phone ringing in your hand.

"Yes, hello?"

"I'm on my way," you talked to the phone.

It was hard not to overhear the conversation since the two of you were stuck inside a small space and he could hear everything including the person you were talking to on the phone.

"I have two castings today," you spoke to the phone again while softly scratching your elbow.

"I'll see you there. Yep, okay. Bye!" You ended the phone call and shoved your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

When the elevator arrived at the lobby, he let you out first and walked behind you, watching you hail a taxi with your arm outstretched.

And after that, he got back to his apartment because it was all that he needed to see.

To know what time you'll get back is a bit tricky. He always has to check once in a while but from what he heard from your phone call, you were most likely having a packed day ahead of you.

So he did some other work to pass the time, when he checked after dinner, he got unlucky as he found your boyfriend instead, playing a video game in the living room with the volume up that he could hear the faint blasting sounds coming from across the balcony.

He dreaded his way outside to send his trash down the chute and the elevator chimed open, then you came out of it dressed in a different outfit from the one you went out.

He made a run back to his apartment and turned off the lights, it was vital to keep himself in the dark, or else you will know that he had been watching through his camera.

The scene unfolded right in front of his eyes, you came into the apartment and came to kiss your boyfriend on the cheek.

He said something without looking at you.

You whispered something to him, your mouth pressed to his ear with your hand went down his abdomen.

He paused the game to give you a proper kiss and looked at you, he said something then kissed your hand and to Han’s surprise, he went back to his game.

You went to your bedroom and stripped all of your clothes, went to the bathroom only in your undergarments.

Han patiently waited for you to be done showering with a can of beer in his hand and took one last big gulp when you came back into his view.

You stood by the standing mirror again, just stayed there for a moment staring at your own reflection in the mirror with your bare feet and bathrobe on.

It always got him wondering what you were searching for as you stared at your own reflection like that. What were you searching for? Were you dissatisfied with what you see? Did you feel ugly? He wanted to know the reason.

His profound thought got derailed as you started touching yourself, and ran your hand from your neck down to your chest, parting the bathrobe open.

Slowly, your hand slid the robe open and let it slide down half your body, tugged by the elbows. You walked backward until the back of your legs hit the bedframe, then climbed onto the bed.

Feeling like he was right there with you, he let out an inaudible sigh.

You touched your breast and softly rubbed your nipple with your fingertips as it turned hard from just a simple touch.

You licked your fingertips before circling them around your nipples again.

"Fuck!" Han muttered under his breath, gripped the tripod so hard hoping it would lessen the urge to touch you.

You reclined on the bed with a hand propped on the bed and slowly spread your legs wide, you just sat there at the end of the bed looking at your reflection in a provocative pose.

He held his breath from imagining if that mirror were him and what you would look like to him.

His cock twitched from the sudden need, Han have nothing to complain about but to give what his body wanted.

Apart from physical needs, he needed to do it to experience the same thing with you, it was either going all in or nothing to him.

He worked open his jeans and let them drop, pooling around his ankles. He pulled his semi-hard cock out of the confine of his boxer and began to give it slow pumps.

Looking through his camera again, he saw you shoved your two fingers into your mouth then bring it down south, to your cunt that he believed looking flushed from all the blood rushing there.

"Baby..." he breathlessly called for you with a pet name he secretly called you with.

"Touch yourself for me!" He said while his hand started to steadily pump his cock.

His eyes couldn't focus on one thing because every part of you offered just the same enticing sight. The way your head was thrown to the back with your eyes shut, your mouth parted open and he hated that he couldn't hear your moans, the beautiful arch your back lifted off the bed as you grind at your fingers, and then the occasional glance at your reflection on the mirror.

"Fuck baby, so good for me," he praised with a hoarse voice, hand pumping his cock at an impossibly quick pace.

"I want to touch you so much," he said again through his gritted teeth.

The silence that hung in the dark of his apartment was replaced by his grunts and whimpers.

"Baby, oh..." his hand vigorously pumping his swollen cock like there's no end, "keep touching yourself for me..."

He saw your body held in the air with your mouth gaping open and he believed you were close to your climax as well.

For a second, Han's eyes flicked to your boyfriend who was still busy playing a video game with headphones on, unaware that his girlfriend was touching herself in the next room because he refused to have sex with you.

What a fucking fool! Han thought in his head.

If he were your boyfriend, he would make love to you all day you don't even have to ask. He would drop to his knees and worship your heavenly body, shower it with sweet praises. He would not only kiss you on the top of your head when he leaves for work, he would kiss you and give you a warm hug, he would treat you better. That's what he can promise you.

If only he had the chance. Just one chance!

He let out a strained groan as milky white of his seed spurted out of the tip of his cock, he hurriedly covered it with his hand to not let it shoot all over the glass window.

Didn't want to miss anything, he immediately looked through his camera again as you kept stroking your clit with your fingers.

Han kept going even though he had reached his peak, over stimulating himself.

He saw your body hung mid-air on the bed and it seemed like you reached your high as you clamped your hand between your thighs.

The thought of masturbating together with you and cum together, well, apart from being in separated places, would be the closest and the most intimate thing he would ever do with you.

At that moment when you closed your eyes almost at the same time as Han, he believed he shared a moment with you. It was as if your consciousness met in a space where you were one and tethered, or that was what he wanted to believe.

Han staggered backward, drained from two orgasms and overstimulation he gave himself, and collapsed onto the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and thought of that shared space with you, how peaceful and happy he would be in there.

He woke up to his jeans still open and his cock peeking out from the waistband of his brief.

It felt as if he took a strong sleeping pill but without the side effects.

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking his eyes a few times to adjust to the light.

And his first instinct was to get up so he could see how much he missed.

He groaned when he found his camera running out of battery, he hurriedly took another from his collection.

He put it on his tripod and zoomed in right away, he knew where to look without having to aim it first. It was like his eyes already knew where to look.

Thankfully he didn't miss much, you were still in your nightdress and having a bowl of cereal cross-legged on the sofa.

He took the chance to wash up and changed the clothes that reeked with his body sweat, fix himself a cup of coffee and a quick slice of toast.

The day went slow, the only significant thing that happened was that you ordered a magazine with your photoshoot in it. He reminded himself to the newspaper stand to buy one for himself.

And you spent the rest of the afternoon working on your laptop and just stared at it while talking on the phone in the living room.

Han got used to moving from one place to another, living out of a suitcase that he loses track of time for most of his life. But as he watched you collecting dirty laundry from around the house, he realized that day was Friday.

On Friday, you always went to the laundromat on the corner of the street.

Han hurriedly went to collect his dirty laundry as well, it wasn't hard for him since his dirty clothes lying around his apartment.

He went there first before you so he would be less conspicuous that he stalked you, he sorted his laundry so slowly to stall with eyes looking at the entrance of the laundromat, waiting for you to come.

Fifteen minutes later, you came while carrying two bags of laundry, one you carried on your shoulder and the other hung on your forearm.

You dropped the bags right across his on the row of washing machines lined up on one side of the wall. You went to change your money and got coins in return then went back to your laundry.

You already sorted your laundry at home and straight away, put them in the washing machine, bending down while wearing a miniskirt.

He liked it that it looks good on you, especially that bit where he could see the white underwear you wore underneath but he also hated it because he wasn't the only one that could see it.

Han purposely closed the lid of the washing machine so loud to make the elderly man in the corner stop ogling at you.

Your head also turned in his direction out of reflex.

“Do you need a change?" You offered.

It took him aback for a second, that you were talking to him.

"Huh?"

You exchanged a glance for a second then he understood.

"Yeah, I run out of..." he paused to scratch his head, while in fact, he already has in the pocket of his denim jacket.

You took a few dimes from the little purse you carry and handed some to his open palm.

"I happen to change my money too much," you said with a grin.

Your fingers brushed his palm ever so slightly but he could feel the electric feeling coming from it, "thanks!"

In exchange, Han went to buy two cups of coffee from the vending machine and handed one to you.

"Thanks!" You beamed, holding the cup a bit higher at him in gratitude.

You held it to let it simmer for a while, "you're my neighbor, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He answered, a bit too eager. He was ecstatic to know you recognized him.

"I remember because we always ride the elevator together," you said.

He hoped it wasn't suspicious of you to say so, he stifled a nod to confirm. He didn't want the conversation to end so he thought of a question real quick.

"Do you always go to the laundromat even though you have a washing machine at home?" He asked and he wasn't aware of the detail he input in the question until you asked him back.

"How do you know I have a washing machine at home?"

He swallowed, trapped by his own words.

"Well... Uhm... because I do have a washing machine at home as well," he stammered, unsure if his answer is convincing enough for you.

“I do have a washing machine at home," you gathered your hair and clipped them together with a hair claw.

"But I like the sound of these big old washing machines, I find it very calming," you cracked into a laugh again, "I know that's so weird of me!"

"No, no, no," Han strongly denied, "that's not weird at all!"

You took a sip of your coffee and hummed, "how about you? Why are you here on a Friday night?"

Han held his coffee cup in his hands and between his legs, looking down at your legs crossed and revealed your beautiful legs.

"They have the best coffee here!" He playfully replied while taking another sip of his coffee.

Your eyes found each other and like it was timed, you both laughed at each other.

"Now that's weird!" You poked fun at him.

With the constant whirring sounds of the washing machines, the smell of fabric softener, and the color of the clothes going swirling inside the machines that slowly hypnotized him, Han finally understood the appeal of it. It was like taking a snooze button in life and it was indeed therapeutic.

"So, what do you do for a living?" You suddenly asked as you took out the freshly laundered clothes into a basket.

"I'm a photographer," he answered.

"How fitting!" You beamed with a wide grin.

"I'm a model!" You paused while holding a pair of damp sweatpants in your hands to tell him that.

Han smiled, he knew who you are but the way you introduced yourself got him smitten. He was expecting someone fierce just like how you posed in the magazine you modeled for, in reality, you were bubbly in person, overflowing with charms.

"What kind of photography do you do?" You asked, closing the lid of the washing machine with your hips.

"Sceneries mostly," he shortly answered.

You nodded in awe, "Can I see some of your works?"

The request took him by surprise, he fumbled to find his phone in one of the pockets on his denim jacket.

"I'll return after putting these in the dryer," you told him.

When you returned, you sat next to him and picked up your coffee cup again. Han was so nervous because he had never been this close to you, your heads barely touched as you huddled close to see the photos he took for his exhibitions.

"These are amazing!" You praised.

Even your coffee-tinted breath smelled so sweet to him that he inhaled it.

"Thank you!" He sincerely said.

You turned your head at him with your mouth open, he knew you were planning to ask him something but hesitated.

"Do you want to ask something?"

You closed your mouth and shook your head.

"I was about to ask you for a favor but I realize that it's a silly request," you explained and drank your coffee.

"Please, go ahead! Ask me anything!" Han encouraged, moreover he was curious, deadly curious.

You stifled a laugh then brushed a stray hair to the back, "I was planning to ask if you can take my photos," you finally admitted.

"I'd love to!" And he hated how he sounded too eager once again.

You sheepishly smiled, "I need new ones for my portfolio but I understand that you're way too professional for that," you refused the idea.

"Hey, I'm not that bad at taking profile photos!" He remarked.

"Oh no, that's not what I mean!" You immediately denied it.

"I can do that, plus I don't have anything to do anyway," he said this time he looked you right in the eyes to convince you.

You nodded, feeling assured that he wasn't offended by your request.

"Tomorrow afternoon then?" You asked with anticipation.

"Tomorrow afternoon sounds fine!" Han answered and it couldn't come any sooner.

After watching you turn out for the night, sleeping on your side of the bed alone without your foolish boyfriend for the third time this week.

He went to his bed, replaying all the moments he shared with you in the laundromat. Your warm smiles, your hair tickled his ear when you huddled close together your soft fingertips brushed his palm, your cute responses to his playful remarks, that miniskirt you wore that he wished you wore only for him and for his eyes only.

Han slept in peace knowing that he had a day well-spent and for every second that passed, he was getting closer to tomorrow afternoon.

He knew you were coming.

It took you exactly three minutes to walk from your unit to his.

He heard you knock on the door, once, twice. He stalled a little so he didn't seem like he had been anticipating your visit for the last 15 hours.

He opened the door on the third knocking.

He welcomed you with a teeth-baring smile that came out of nowhere but he believed it was from within him.

"Hi! I hope I didn't disturb you!" You said with your hands folded behind your back.

"Not at all!" He replied, he stepped aside to let you in. He had removed the tripod from the window and anything suspicious that would uncover his inappropriate behavior.

You walked further inside and looked around the place with curious eyes.

"Oh, you were having lunch!" You said as you spotted his unfinished burger on the dining table.

Han was too nervous about today that he couldn't finish his lunch.

"My stomach suddenly got upset," he came up with an excuse.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm okay now," he lied, he was getting fidgety and didn't know what to do next.

You walked to the shelf with all of his cameras on display and your hand reached for one of the vintage cameras, "you also shoot in film?"

"Yes," he shortly answered because when it came to that subject, he could confidently answer.

Han took one of his favorites that he used the most the polished body of the camera started to fade from overuse, "this is my favorite!"

"May I?" You asked to hold it.

He handed it to you carefully like he passed a newborn baby.

You put it up in front of you and aimed it at him, without warning, took a picture with a flash that blinded him.

"Oh, I thought there's no film in it!" You quickly apologized.

He burst into laughter instead, "it's only fair if I take one of you too!"

You glanced at him and slyly smiled, "okay," then handed his camera back.

You smiled for the camera until the shutter clicked and your smile was frozen in time, that is the magic of photography. He can treasure this moment again whenever he wanted it.

You turned on your heels and saw the mini photo studio he had set up for today with the white background, "so I guess you'll be taking my pictures there?"

"Yes," he shortly replied.

You went there while unbuttoning your cardigan and took it off, putting it on a chair nearby.

You were still dressed in a white tank top and denim skirt but why did he got flustered like a middle school boy who saw a grown woman's tits for the first time?

He had seen naked women before, either for work or on his sexcapades. Looking at your nipples visible through the white fabric and knowing how you like to touch them, distracted him a little but mostly, he got the urge to touch them.

The photo shoot was quick and it was all thanks to your professionalism, it was obvious you are a model with so many experiences and that made you easy to work with.

You went to him and checked the results with him on the laptop, he caught you staring at your photos like you always do when you see your reflection in the mirror.

He so badly wanted to know what were you thinking when you stared at your reflection like that. The curiosity was starting to suffocate him.

"Is it bad?" He asked.

It seemed to work to snap you out of your daze, "these are amazing!"

"But you're looking at it like..." he didn't want to presume so he decided not to continue his sentence.

You smiled at him and sighed, "it's just that... sometimes when I look at my own pictures, I feel like I'm seeing someone else," you uttered.

He could see your glossy eyes waver and seem like they were about to shatter.

You cleared your throat and stood up straight, "can I have a glass of water?"

Han felt stupid for not offering you a drink the second you came into the house, "yes, sure. I'm sorry, I forgot to offer you!"

"That's okay!" You said with a comforting smile.

When Han returned with a glass of water for you, he didn't find you where you were by his laptop in his little studio. He got panicked thinking that you went into his bedroom uninvited and feared that you find something he didn't want you to see.

He dashed to his bedroom and then stopped when he saw you were outside, on the balcony.

You turned around at the sound of the glass door sliding open, "sorry, I was curious as to what my apartment looks like from here," you said.

He got flustered, scratching the back of his head feeling embarrassed about himself.

"Here's uhm... your glass of water!" He handed you the glass with the water sloshed onto his hand.

"Thank you!"

You took a big gulp and gasped in satisfaction, "how much should I pay you?"

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry if that sounds rude, but I don't feel good not paying you for the photos," you said, looking down and feeling bad for the way you asked him.

Han held his hands up at you, "you don't have to pay, really," he kindly refused.

"I'm very sorry," you sheepishly muttered.

"At least, let me pay for it with dinner?" You offered another way to return the favor.

And how can he resist? It was a chance that came unannounced, a gift, a blessing.

"Yeah, okay," he succeeded in trying to sound coy.

"I have to go out of town for work for a few days. Let's have that dinner when I get back?" You leaned against the concrete barrier with your hands holding the glass of water in front of you.

He got disappointed that the dinner couldn't be that night or the next day, but for you, he was willing to wait.

"I'll clear my schedule," he said even though he didn't have the so-called schedule.

You softly chuckled and put the glass on the small round table, turned back to face your apartment.

Han took the opportunity to stand next close to you.

"Wow, you can see everything from here!" You sighed then looked up at the sky that begins to turn into shades of golden brown and orange, and every shade in between those colors.

"The sky is so beautiful today," you said with a contented sigh.

"So beautiful," Han added but he was looking at you and how you glowed under all the beautiful colors of the sky, rapt.

You closed your eyes and smiled.

He fisted his hands on his sides and leaned in close, he always thought that if he could observe you this close, he would somehow feel satisfied but that was wrong. He couldn't get enough, you endlessly mesmerized him.

"Whenever I look at your apartment, it was always dark," you suddenly said out of the blue, derailing him from his daydream.

Han dryly laughed, "I... I rarely stay in the house," he lied his way through.

"Ah, that makes sense!" You beamed.

You checked your phone to see the time and decided to leave, "I have to go. I have to cook dinner for my boyfriend," you told him.

Did you have to tell him that? Were you trying to make him jealous? Because you shouldn't have said anything, he was already jealous and mad that you have a boyfriend.

"I'll work on your photos and get it done soon," he told you.

"No, please take your time," you resisted.

He led you back inside and handed you your cardigan back, he held on to it a little longer just to have you here a few seconds longer.

"Bye, Han!" You said to him right before you get out of the door.

"Bye!" He said back.

All the good things that happened to him that day vanished as he watched your boyfriend take you to the bedroom then the two of you fucked.

He stopped looking the second he stripped all of your clothes off, he didn't need to see that, or else, he'd perished by his fiery rage.

He caught you entering the elevator the next morning as he was about to get out of it, this time was accidental. He didn't purposely meet you there, he was coming back from doing a little grocery from the convenience store across the street.

Han immediately hid the magazine he bought and shoved it deep into the paper bag to get it out of your sight.

"I thought you were already leaving!" He said to you in surprise.

You dragged your carrier behind you, "I woke up late!"

Han pushed the button to the lobby for you, "you'd better hurry then!"

"Thank you!"

He stayed to watch the elevator door slide close but before it went completely shut, he waved bye at you.

And he caught you waved bye at him.

He didn't expect he would feel the sudden emptiness from not having you around for him to watch and spy on.

His days turned bland, long, and boring. He wanted to get some work done, but he always caught himself going back to the photos he took of you.

He would look at it as long as he could, minutes, hours. The day passed so slowly and turned dark.

At night he went to the bed after showering with the magazine he bought that morning.

He flipped to the pages to where your beautiful face filled the whole page then of you in various colorful dresses. You looked so different in the photos, vibrant and alive. He thought over with what you said you looked different in the photos and he didn't find any fault in that, he would say that was a good thing. You played your duality well, that's what's important.

He only felt bad for everyone else who didn't know that you looked even more beautiful in real life.

He slipped his hand under his pillow and pulled out that cream-colored underwear he stole from your laundry basket that day back in the laundromat.

He cover his face with it and inhaled the scent that clung to it, that reminded him of your enticing cunt while his hand went to his cock.

He could jerk off to the thought of you multiple times in one day.

Even that day started by him jerking off to the photo of you with your nipples poking through your white tanktop and resulted in his cum went all over his office chair.

He drifted to sleep so easily after getting off and woke up in the middle of the night to his hand still inside his boxer, sticky with his cum drying on the skin.

He groaned and got up to clean himself, not until he faintly heard music playing outside and it was coming from your balcony.

He went to check and saw your boyfriend kissing you, or so he thought.

He doubted it in the next minute because you said you'd be away for a few days so he looked into his camera and zoomed in.

She wasn’t you but your boyfriend was fucking her on the very bed you sleep on.

And he always knew that your boyfriend is an undeserving asshole.

He had to wait behind his door for you to come knocking on his door. This time, he didn't wait for you to knock for the third time.

"Hi!" You brightly greeted him the second he opened the door.

"Hi!" He said back with a smile.

Han had been trying not to let his emotions go all over the place. He was so mad at your boyfriend for cheating on you, he hated how you were oblivious to it and ultimately, he couldn't bring himself to tell you about it.

"I came here to see if you're done with the photos," you said because you had been standing in the doorway for a while.

Han hurriedly got ahold of himself and let you into his apartment.

"You want to check the photos?" He asked as he led you to his work desk.

"No, that's okay, I trust you!" You said.

"Okay then, give me a moment to transfer the files," he sat on his chair and started working on his laptop.

"Okay," you replied.

Then he finished, and you showed him a copy of the magazine you were in.

He got caught red-handed by you, his face turned red and at the same time, it felt all of his blood has been drawn from him. He had a lot in his mind that he forgot to put away.

"Do you know that I'm in here?" You innocently asked.

He couldn't lie to you, not to your bright, beautiful face.

"I'm... let's say I'm your fan," he shamelessly admitted.

You burst out laughing then put the magazine down, "I think you are my only fan," you said while still laughing.

That was what he wanted, you smiling and laughing. Telling you about your cheating boyfriend would only make you sad.

"Can I see your bedroom?" You asked.

It wasn't a strange request but he found himself nodding, like his brain programmed to submit to your wishes.

You walked into his bedroom and pushed the door open, Han was grateful he put the tripod away to the other corner of his bedroom.

You gasped as you saw another collection of cameras in his bedroom, "how many cameras do you own?" You asked in awe.

"Enough," he humbly answered.

You took one and easily knew how to use it, "I have the same camera when I was the school's photographer," you explained.

Han shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans to hold the urge to touch you, being in his bedroom alone with you was already too much for him.

"Gorgeous!" You praised as you took a few pictures of him.

Han laughed in response but loud enough to fill the room.

He got the taste of what it would be like with you, being your significant other, and sharing a space with you. He believed he would do better than your lousy, cheating boyfriend.

But to fill that dream, he had to tell the hard truth.

You were picking up a video camera when he dropped everything.

"How do you turn this on-"

"He cheated on you!" He blurted out.

It took you a second to process his words but it seemed like you already knew from how you handled it calmly.

"I know," you softly said.

You put the video camera down on the table again and went to sit on the bed, "I known about it for some time," you confessed.

Han went to sit next to you on the end of the bed with you covered your face with your hands, this was what kept him from telling you the truth.

"I decided to keep quiet about it because I thought it was just a fling and he would eventually stop," you sadly muttered.

The saddest part of it was you playing dumb and at the same time, giving him a chance to come back to you even though deep down you knew it wasn't just a fling.

You looked at him with watery eyes, "I'm so stupid to think he would choose me," you said with a snide laugh.

He put his arm around you but kept it in his mind that it was for an effort to comfort you, "stupid are the people who don't choose you," he consoled you.

You weakly smiled at him and stared deep into his eyes that he could see the crack in that glassy eyes, he didn't want to see you shatter so he kissed you.

He kissed you like it would mend your broken heart like it would piece it back together and make it brand new.

And he would be okay with you not returning it. He was okay with your hand reaching for the collar of his shirt and yanking him away but no, you fisted it in your hands and pulled him closer, deeper into the kiss.

You climbed onto his lap and straddled him, breaking the kiss to catch a breath.

With your hands on his neck, you looked at him and asked, "would you choose me?" Your voice was whispery, almost gone with the wind.

"Certainly!" He answered without a beat.

You kissed him again, harder and it felt like you need them like air instead of the other way.

The kisses seemed like a search for validation that you are still worthy of love and to be loved.

And Han would gladly provide it for you.

He held you close and kissed you like he always wanted to, so passionately, hungrily with tongues and teeth clashing together.

His brain was slow to catch up to what was happening, but his hands were moving to remove your clothes and you followed suit.

The process of stripping each other's clothes off happened in a blink of the eyes, clothes flying everywhere and littering the bedroom floor.

He always thought of how he would take his time with you, showering your body with praises and kisses like he planned in his head but all that was thrown aside when the desire for your body burned his logic.

Han went on a kiss rampant all over your body, aggressively kissing every inch of skin with searing, wet kisses.

His mouth landed on your abdomen, he kissed the skin right under your belly button and you sighed at the fluttering feeling stirred inside you.

He saw how your face blushed with a sleepy smile on your face.

"Baby..." he sighed, and it slipped past his mouth just like that. He was sure you heard it too but it was too late to take it back.

You took his hand to suck on his fingers and let it go with a loud pop.

"Yes, daddy?" You said back without any sort of hesitation, it rolled off the tongue like you had called him with it a thousand times already.

Daddy?

It kept ringing in his ear.

From all his past experiences, no one ever called him that during sex. He knows that there are people with this type of kink and it was completely normal for you to have it. But he blanked out, he didn't know how to react to that.

"What is it, daddy?" You asked him again, then slowly put his thumb in your mouth.

And he liked how you were so obedient, literally and figuratively under his thumb.

"Baby, you're so beautiful!" He murmured then pressed another kiss on your pubic bone.

You sighed then softly giggled, "thank you, daddy!"

And he never thought he would like being called that apart from hearing your pretty noises right in his ears.

You kneeled on the bed in front of him, kissing him with your hair draped on one side of your shoulders.

Han's hand went down to your wet heat, so inviting to the touch, and made his cock throbs at once.

You turned on the bed with your back against his chest, you took his other hand, running it all over your body.

You sucked on his fingers and with those wet fingers, you made him play with your erect nipples all the while he was fingering you.

"So good, daddy," you moaned into his mouth.

Your hand groped around his body to find his swollen cock, your trailed his girth coiled with veins. You almost laughed at how aroused he was, you gently stroked his cock and hastily kissed him on the mouth.

"You're so big, daddy," you told him in a whiny yet sultry voice.

He let out a snicker and it shocked him that it was coming from him, "you think you can take daddy's cock?"

You put your hand on his and led it to knead on your breast together, "try me, daddy!"

The words provoked him on a whole new level.

You slightly bent down for him as he teased your entrance and you softly moaned in response.

Han fantasized about this moment countless times and each time it aroused him the same, if not his hand ended up inside his pants with his cum all over it.

But this.

This was beyond what his brain could comprehend. His imagination would never be able to describe how it feels to penetrate you, the way your velvety walls welcomed him and let his cock stretch your tight hole, snug and warm.

He groaned and whimpered at the same time, basked in unadulterated pleasure he couldn't get anywhere else.

His eyes lingered on his cock that kept pushing inside and he started to think if he would ever hit the extremity.

He gripped your waist in reflex and teeth bit his lower lip, "baby, oh..." he got so overwhelmed he couldn't finish his sentence.

"Keep going, daddy," you breathlessly said, encouraging him with your sweet voice, "I can take it."

But it was him who couldn't take it.

Having his need fulfilled was one thing but having that need beyond his expectations was a whole other thing.

He let out a raw groan the second he bottomed out at the same time you sighed so beautifully, almost melodic.

You moved backward, sending him deeper inside you.

"Oh fuck!" He spilled, he was almost lost at that very moment.

Your hand went to grab his chin and turned his head at you, "I can feel your big cock inside me, daddy," you said with little giggles.

Again, he didn't know how you were able to make him feel a lot of things at once.

You were so cute, so attractive, so sexy, and stunning. You endlessly fascinated him.

"You take daddy's cock so well," he praised back with an assertive voice and put his hand around your neck, tipped your head upward to meet your gaze.

He gave you an upside-down kiss as he rolled his hips to adjust himself not the other way around.

You hummed in delight, syncing your movements by softly grinding on him.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispered into your ear.

"Yeah, daddy?"

He hastily kissed your mouth again, "so good to daddy!"

He didn't know how he could act upon the title so well and liked something that he never tried before. He felt like he discovered something that pleased him in a new way.

He put a hand around your waist and the other around your neck, he began thrusting into you at a steady pace.

"Oh, daddy!" You moaned.

Your throat vibrated as you suppressed your moans, the shape your body took as he rammed from behind you was so beautiful he wished he could take a picture of it with his camera.

Han dared himself to explore more, stifled a hard thrust into you, and earned a loud moan from you.

"You like that, baby?" He asked through his gritted teeth.

You nodded, gasping for air before providing him a verbal answer, "I like that so much, daddy!"

He slightly pushed you down just enough to make you bend lower, and took a handful of your hair in his hand.

He picked up his pace and thrust into you harder, deeper, and reverberating through your body, sending you closer to your high.

"Harder, daddy!" You sweetly asked him.

He slowed down and folded your hands behind your back, pinned them on your back with one hand.

"I'm giving it to you cause you're such a good girl!" He responded, picked up the pace once more and harder just like you asked him to.

You constantly moaned with your mouth open that you drooled over the bed, breasts bounced with every motion of his hips ramming into you.

"Fuck," you cried.

Han abruptly stopped thrusting and pulled you close by your hair, roughly kissing your mouth he took your breath away.

Seeking friction, you started moving against him and being the one moving in and out of him.

"You want to ride daddy's cock, huh?"

"Uh huh," you were incapable to form a coherent answer.

Han gave you time to ride him but he got impatient and gripped your waist, thrusting into you again at a quick pace.

You clawed his thighs with nails dug into the flesh, "so close, daddy,"

But he once again halted his movement and took you onto his lap, putting his hand on your cunt to play with your bundle of nerves.

"Daddy," you whined, gripping his wrist to stop him but it was a fruitless effort, he kept circling and applying gentle pressures on your clit.

"Daddy wants to make you feel good," he cooed at you.

You let go of his hand and pulled at his head instead, sloppily kissing him on the mouth.

Without warning, he pushed you down the bed, pressing your head on the pillow with a hand on the nape of your neck.

You yelped in surprise, while continuously moaning and crying in pleasure, but the sound was muffled by the pillow.

With his hands on each side of your hips, he positioned your ass and jutted it up higher in the air.

Seeing you all bent down for him, it amazed him how he could be so dominant, maybe he have been one but never figured it out until then.

He put all of your hair to the side and tenderly kissed your neck, shoulder, your back, and anywhere where he could land his lips.

"You can take a little more, right baby?" He asked.

"Mmh... yeah daddy," you answered with your eyes closed and panting.

He put his hand back on the nape of your neck and continued his effort to prolong the pleasure until you both snapped.

Your body shook with him still buried to the hilt inside you, clenched and on the brink of orgasm as well.

One, two, three more thrusts, he stilled.

He felt like levitating in unspoiled feelings of happiness and peace, like the hurt in the world didn't exist in the world in that duration, it was pure bliss in an infinite amount.

His eyes fluttered shut, his hips kept moving to ride out his high at a slow, sloppy pace to eventually collapsed on top of you.

After gaining a little control, he woke up to not weighed you down and carefully pulled out of you. Drops of cum still dripping from his slit, he cum a lot and he could see that he filled you full to the brim.

He rubbed the back of your thighs as he admired the lewd sight right before his eyes. He didn't even dare to dream of such sight but who is he to refuse such a heavenly gift?

"Baby," he called while dragging his lips across your shoulder blade.

"Yeah?" You slurred.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

You slowly turned on the bed to lay face up the bed, "that was the best I ever had!"

He didn't want to get cocky but he couldn't help himself from smiling.

You kissed him then held his face in your hands, "thank you for following suit," you said.

Unable to respond to that indirect praise, he returned it with a kiss.

You proceeded to make out on the bed and Han fought his drowsiness because he wanted to use this chance to the fullest, who knows it might be his first and last time to do so.

You pulled away to get on top of him and straddled him with your legs on each side of him.

"Wha-"

You shut him up with a kiss, "let me take care of you now," you assured him with your hand on his magnificent pec.

You took him once again and with your still slick with his cum, you easily slid him inside.

"Oh my..." you sighed with eyes closed with a faint smile on your face.

He dragged his fingertips down your thighs and did it repeatedly all the while you moved on top of him.

You purposely clenched around him to make him grunt, "you like that, baby?"

"I like that so much but if you keep doing that, I might cum too soon," he honestly answered with a gentle squeeze on your thigh.

You giggled again and placed both of your hands on his chest.

Han was intoxicated by your slow thrusting and soft grinding, your occasional little giggles and light touches.

In contrast to the sex that you both had before but it offered him the same amount of pleasure with a little more intimacy.

When he cum inside you again, he soared high up to cloud nine.

The sweat that coated both of your bodies didn't stop him from holding you close, giving you cuddles, and whispering sweet praises to you.

He could say it was the best part.

He watched as you sleep with his arm as a pillow while he ran his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

He felt weirdly at peace like everything was right in its place and he wanted to take a long rest afterward.

He closed his eyes despite wanting to watch you sleep a little longer, his eyes droopy and getting heavier. Before his eyes completely shut, he caught a red light from across the bed but he was too fucked out to care.

Han was certain that he had the best sleep of his life.

That was also the reason why he was unaware of you leaving him sometime this morning.

He got disappointed to find you nowhere in the space next to him, it was just a crumpled sheet and an empty pillow.

As he brushed his teeth though, the recollections of last night rushed through his mind. He felt a tingle inside him, funny that it felt like he discovered sex all over again and he would remember you as the one who took his virginity.

Maybe it wasn't always about the first person who did it with you, maybe it was about doing it with the first person that you have a real connection with.

He went to the kitchen to get his first intake of caffeine, he saw the magazine was parted open and someone wrote on your photos.

He pulled it close and saw the writing.

To my one and only fan, you wrote with a black marker and below it, an autograph of you.

He picked it up and observed your writing real close like it would summon you there.

He sighed, he missed you much even though he spent the whole night with you.

Then he remembered about you finding out about the affair.

He took one of his cameras from the shelf and looked through it, you got him searching for you in a panic until you showed up carrying bags of groceries to the kitchen.

You made yourself busy the whole day, cooking in the kitchen and he didn't want to believe that you were doing it for your boyfriend.

From how you decorated the dining table though, he knew he was right.

You set the table nicely, with folded napkins and shiny cutlery with candles in the center. The food you served was made for a feast.

You even put on a nice black silk dress for him, styled your hair into soft waves, and spritzed some perfume on your neck, wrist, and inner thighs.

Could it be that you tried to get to his best side and offer him a chance to start again?

He wanted to be oblivious but his curiosity won him over, he stayed until your boyfriend came back and you welcomed him with a kiss and acted like everything was alright.

He should have known that you didn't mean to break up with him, you were seeking an answer from him, not validation.

He gripped the tripod so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Your boyfriend seemed surprised by the dinner you prepared for him, you went over to the dining table and handed him a wine glass.

He took the wine bottle and poured each glass with wine.

You made a toast to each other and kissed for a long time that your lipstick faded when you let go.

You whispered something to him and he nodded.

Han didn't know why he couldn't look away, he intently watched the scene unfold before him like he knew something grand was about to happen.

You took him to sit on the sofa and you flicked your remote in the direction of the TV, it looked like you were about to show him something.

Han aimed his camera at the TV and focused on it, waiting in anticipation until you pressed play.

He didn't recognize it at first, but then he saw the familiar scene.

Once he knew, he jerked his head away and looked through your window with his naked eyes to take a reality check.

He braved himself to look at it again and his heart beat out of his chest.

He took a step back from his camera and stared straight ahead as the scene came to its grand finale.

That smug, that fake smile, the smell of his perfume that used to mildly arouse you made you sick to the stomach.

"You look so beautiful, my love!" He praised you.

You managed to put on a smile even though his mouth reeked with lies and bitterness.

"I prepare a special dinner for you!" You showed him the dining table full of food you had cooked since the afternoon.

"Special dinner?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

You went over to get the wine glasses and cradled the wine bottle, he voluntarily took the bottle and poured both glasses with an aphrodisiac scent wafting around you.

"I want to show you something," you announced.

He cocked his head to the side, intrigued.

"Did you get that high brand contract?" He guessed.

You shook your head and sipped your wine, "it's better than that," you teased.

You gestured for him to drink his wine to calm his nerves, you never believed in "strike when the iron is hot". You would rather strike when the enemy least expects it.

"You just did another TV ad?" He guessed again as he finished his wine in one long gulp.

You giggled at him and kissed him, making sure you kissed him like you usually do but less affectionate. You gasped when you broke the kiss,

"I'll show you!" You said then led him to the sofa.

He refilled his glass with more wine when you turned on the TV and shot you an intrigued look.

"Better be good!" He told you.

"This will blow your mind!" You said to him with unwavering eyes.

You pressed the play button on the remote and the video started playing with a black screen in the beginning.

Your boyfriend shot you another look with a smile that looked stupid on him, then leaned forward to take a closer look at whatever you were about to show him.

Then there was the low moaning sound and on the screen, two people were fucking each other on the bed.

His smile started to fade when he recognized that one of the two individuals is you.

His hand tried to snatch the remote from you but you were quick to throw it to the wall, broke it in half and the batteries rolled on the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" He screamed at you, his face turned red with jaws clenched so hard that a vein popped on his forehead.

You grabbed his chin and forced him to watch the video again, "it's a video of me getting fucked hard by another guy," you innocently responded.

"What? You think you are the only men who can fuck me hard and I call daddy?" You laughed condescendingly, "you are so fucking wrong!"

You witnessed his eyes turn dark and his hands balled into fists on his thighs, "YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU-"

"YOU FUCKING CHEATER! HOW DARE YOU CALL ME A BITCH WHEN YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SECRETLY TOOK A GIRL TO THIS APARTMENT," you paused to correct yourself, "MY APARTMENT AND FUCK HER ON MY FUCKING BED!" you emphasized your ownership over your things to put him in place.

The video kept playing in the background of Han fucking you with his hand pulling at your hair.

"Harder, daddy!"

"I'm giving it to you cause you're such a good girl!"

Your boyfriend shot up from the sofa and dashed to punch the mirror hung on the wall and made it shatter with some pieces falling onto the floor.

You let him unleash his rage with everything in his grasp while you watched him from across the room with your arms crossed in front of you.

"Don't bother looking for your things. They're downstairs next to the trash bin," you nonchalantly informed him.

Your boyfriend screamed out of anger but you ignored him, you ran out of patience for him. He had been holding you back from so many things and it felt good letting it all go.

When he left with the sound of the door slamming shut ringing in your ears, you poured yourself more wine and watched the rest of the video of Han fucking you down the bed.

You secretly recorded everything with one of his cameras in his bedroom and made a copy of it when he was still sleeping.

Yes, you secretly involved him in revenge sex to get back at your boyfriend.

But you also knew that he had been spying on you and watching you through the windows.

Working with cameras for years made you aware of its presence, and one time, he forgot to turn his lights off, an error he shouldn't have made.

It was tit for tat.

Bon chat, bon rat.

At least after everything, the two of you were back on square one.

When the video ended you got up from the sofa and walked over to the broken mirror.

All these times playing dumb just to save a relationship that didn't worth saving made you hate yourself.

As you stared at the cracked mirror with a few missing pieces, you couldn't really see your reflection on it, but you like how you looked.

There was only one thing left to do.

You headed to the balcony and stared through the window, to one specific spot where you could see his camera aimed at you, and you guessed he was watching you right then.

You sipped your wine and took your lipstick from your purse, you wrote on the glass in a mirrored way.

You stared into his camera through the word you wrote in red lipstick.

Dinner?

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meowdarame · 2 years

Text

a celebration for two

pairing: kickboxer!mikasa ackerman x bimbo!fem!reader (afab!reader, she/her pronouns)

synopsis: after a monumental championship victory, you and your girlfriend decide to try something new to celebrate.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. slight angst to fluff, dom(ish)!reader, sub(ish)!mikasa, sex toys (double-ended dildo), fingering, nipple play, soft sex, one (1) tit slap, lots of petnames

word count: ~3.3k

notes: for kc’s pride month collab & atlas’s himbos and bimbos collab! this is my first time writing wlw and bimbo!reader, so please be gentle! (i definitely struggled with the latter, oops!) as always, reblogs and feedback are super appreciated!

Mikasa doesn’t like to bring outside squabbles into the ring.

Her matches are usually short and straightforward— step onto the mat, dodge a flurry of swift attacks, and patiently wait for an opening to deliver the final blow. It’s easier this way, ending her matches with an instant knockout; she doesn’t see the need to use flamboyant or fanciful tricks and moves to prove her fighting prowess.

But tonight’s match was different. As she stood in front of her opponent, some cocky, undefeated kickboxer who was quickly rising through the ranks, Mikasa couldn’t help but feel a rage bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Heat coursed through her veins and traveled to her flushed face and clenched fists as she recalled a sickening memory from the night before:

Lights flashed all around her and her opponent; journalists huddled them, snapping photos for news articles reporting on the monumental championship fight. Her opponent glared at her square in the face, her hot breath overwhelming Mikasa’s senses as she held still her menacing pose. But despite the commotion coming from the photographers and their obnoxiously noisy camera shutters, Mikasa could barely audibly make out something that her challenger whispered to her— an insult, a threat.

“You better win tomorrow, princess. Or else your dumb bimbo of a girlfriend might leave you— seems like all she cares about is the fame and money that she reaps from being with your sorry ass.”

The muscular woman snickered at her own comment while rage filled Mikasa’s chest. She continued on though, even though Mikasa’s fury was evident in how hard she was clenching her jaw.

“She’s really cute though, just my type. Hey, do you think if I win tomorrow, she’ll leave you for me?”

The match lasted no more than ten seconds— the quickest match in the history of their professional kickboxing league. Mikasa didn’t waste any time waiting for an opening, immediately rushing her opponent with a right hook to the face as soon as she heard the bell ring. Although she had managed to break a league record and uphold her title as defending champion— both of which were means for a joyous celebration— all she wanted to do was rush back to her hotel room, change into comfortable pajamas, and sleep off the infuriating memory from the night prior.

“Baby!” you whine, your voice trailing several paces behind Mikasa. Your stiletto heels click loudly against the hallway’s marble floors and echo off the pristinely painted walls. “Why are you walking so fast? Slow down!”

You finally catch up with your girlfriend when she stands in front of your shared hotel room. Mikasa mutters to herself as she fumbles with the keycard, a red light flashing and a beeping noise emitting from the door handle.

“Stupid piece of shit,” she whispers under her breath, followed by a string of expletives when she fails to open the door a second time. “Why couldn’t they just give us a normal key instead?”

“Honey, let me do it,” you insist, taking the card from an agitated Mikasa. She watches quietly as your brightly manicured acrylic nails— a cosmetic that she paid for— delicately swipes the keycard into the box that sits above the doorknob. Gears whir inside the machine before a green light flashes on the door handle; she sighs a quick breath of relief before twisting the doorknob and entering the empty hotel room.

Mikasa removes her shoes and plops onto the made bed while you gently shut the door. With her back slumped into the mattress, she covers her eyes with her arm, basking in the first moment of quiet that she’s been graced with all night. This moment is short lived, however, because soon she remembers her opponent’s slimy voice taunting her.

“All she cares about is the fame and money that she reaps from being with your sorry ass.”

If it were any other insult— a cheap jab at Mikasa’s appearance or a comment about her singular loss from last season— she would have gotten over it once the fight was over. She knows that her opponent’s words were meant to sting her, to distract her, but it all feels too real. It’s no secret how much you love the spotlight and the riches that come from being a professional athlete’s pretty girlfriend; your own Instagram is overflowing with photos of her, almost to the point that if your account weren’t verified, you could be easily mistaken for a fanpage. Mikasa rarely ever has doubts about the nature of your relationship, but in this instant, she can’t help but wonder if you really love her or if you just love the attention she gives you and brings to you.

These negative feelings don’t even subside when she feels your arm wrap around her, your face nestled in the crook of her neck. “So,” you start softly, “do you want to tell me what’s gotten you so angry that you couldn’t even open the door?”

Tensions rise in the silent room as she collects her thoughts and you await her response. “What if I lost?” Mikasa eventually breathes out, still covering her eyes to hide the tears creeping up on her waterline.

“But you didn’t, baby,” you chirp back, nuzzling your cheek against her soft, warm skin. “You won, like you always do!”

“But what if I did?” she snaps back in a tone that was uncharacteristic of your usually sweet-natured girlfriend. “If I did lose— if I lost the title and all the grandiosity that comes with it— would you still love me?”

Mikasa hears the covers rustling when you prop yourself up on your arm. “Baby, look at me,” you command, taking her wrist and lifting her arm off of her face. You stare down at Mikasa’s tired face, your expression ladled with concern; it breaks her heart to see you in such a worried state, and knowing that her question is the root cause of it makes her even more angry at herself.

“I’d still love you even if you lost a hundred matches,” you breathily whisper, tears now brimming your waterline. “I don’t care about the money or the fame. I mean, of course it’s a perk to dating a professional athlete, but I love you for you— not for the things that you do.”

Mikasa winces and shuts her eyes once more. She feels so stupid— of course you love her! You’ve been with her even during her underground fighting days, when she would join dangerous competitions just for a chance to put food on the table or have enough money to pay the electricity bill. You loved her even when she had nothing, so why would anything change now that she has everything? She feels like a fool for ever doubting you.

“I-I’m sorry, my love,” Mikasa sighs, cupping your cheek and pulling you down to lay on her chest. “It’s just that my opponent said something and it stuck with me. She said that you were going to leave me for her if I lost the match.”

You scoff as you trace your name on Mikasa’s stomach. Your finger dragging along her exposed skin brings her comfort, and she allows herself to melt into your embrace. “Well, she’s wrong for two reasons,” you assert, and it elicits a chuckle from your girlfriend. “First, I love you too much to leave you. And second, she’s ugly and it would be a major downgrade if I left you for her.”

“A downgrade, huh?” Mikasa giggles and shakes her head at your incredulous comment. “You said it, not me!”

It’s silent for a moment as you both bask in the warmth of your entangled bodies, contrasted by the air conditioner blasting cool air into the hotel room. Mikasa listens to your soft humming as you draw little hearts and stars all around her torso, but her breath hitches when she feels your fingertips gently ghost over her nipples through her t-shirt.

You deliver a harsh pinch to her perked bud immediately after, and Mikasa doesn't have enough time to react to the sudden stimulation. A choked moan slips past her rosy lips, and she watches a smirk creep up on your pretty features.

“Baby,” you coo, slowly lifting up the loose cotton material of Mikasa’s shirt, exposing her nipples to the chilly environment. “Are you tired? Or would you be down to have some fun tonight— a celebration, if you will?”

Mikasa can’t even think straight, because soon your lips encircle her nipple while your fingers tug and tweak at the other one, ensuring that both of them receive ample attention. She bites her bottom lip as you continue your ministrations, and a muffled “mhmm” is all she manages to get out.

She begins to push herself up on the bed, but you stop her before she’s able to fully sit up. “No, no,” you gently whisper as your hands caress her shoulders, easing her back into a comfortable position. “You’re always taking care of me! Tonight I want to return the favor.”

You waste no time in undressing yourself and Mikasa, your clothes nothing more than discarded piles of fabric on the floor. Your girlfriend lies back with her head resting beautifully against the plush pillow— her short hair frames her face with a few loose strands clinging to her warm cheeks; a muted red tint creeps up her neck and heats her face; and her pretty pink lips are wet and parted as she marvels at the sight of your naked body before her. Mikasa’s eyelids flutter when you bend down to kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. Your breasts brush against one another as you deepen the kiss, sucking on her tongue and drawing the cutest whines from your girlfriend, who’s quickly growing impatient with all the light, fleeting touches.

You maneuver your body back so that you’re sitting in between her spread thighs. Mikasa watches in anticipation as she follows your wandering eyes down your body, until your gaze eventually lands on her glistening cunt. Her clit aches and yearns to be touched by you, and she exhales a sigh of relief when you spit on your fingertips and begin rubbing loose circles around the sensitive nub.

“We’re gonna try something new,” you admit, still toying with Mikasa’s clit. Your middle finger dips into her tight walls, pushing past the first ring of her pussy. Her back arches in response, and you giggle cutely at her body’s responsiveness to you.

“I think it’ll make both of us feel good! You trust me, right baby?” you ask, emphasizing your question by hooking your fingers and pushing forcefully against Mikasa’s g-spot.

She frantically nods her head, agreeing to anything that will bring her closer to her release. “Good, good,” you mutter as you pull your finger out from her drooling hole; her hips buck up off the bed at the sudden empty feeling, but you ease her jumpiness by leaning down and pressing a kiss to her clit.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back, and then we can have our fun.”

Mikasa’s eyes follow you as you make your way to the bathroom. She performs a mental tally, wondering what you could possibly be grabbing. There’s dry towels in there, your bullet vibrator hidden in a secret pocket in your makeup bag, some lube in a special compartment of her luggage, and—

“Ah, here it is!” you cheer, returning to the room and clutching a 15 inch double-ended dildo in one of your manicured hands. You hold a bottle of water-based lube in the other, and a devious smile is plastered on your face.

You excitedly plop yourself onto the bed, and Mikasa immediately reels back, intimidated by the sheer size of the sex toy. She begins to protest, arguing that it’s too big and that it’s not going to fit, but you quell her anxieties by placing a chaste kiss to her tummy.

“Baby,” you giggle, in awe of her cuteness and innocence. “It’s not all for you— it’s for both of us!”

She furrows her brows and crinkles her nose, still not understanding what you mean. “I take one end, and you take the other. That way we can both feel good!” you explain further, but Mikasa is still unconvinced.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m not usually on the receiving end of these things…” Her voice trails off and her gaze wanders, but her eyes meet yours once again when you clasp her hands.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but I’d really, really like to try it. I saw it in a video once and thought it was so hot,” you confess, sheepishly biting the corner of your lip. “I just wanted to know what you’d look like, all cock drunk and fucked out.”

Mikasa watches as you fiddle with your fingertips, anxiously waiting for her response. Her heart pangs upon seeing you like this— you, who’s usually so enthusiastic about sex, eagerly agreeing to any tryst or kink that she wants to try out. Nothing’s off the table with you, and you’re willing to try anything at least once even if you may not like it. And so, Mikasa decides to be like you for once, pushing aside her fear and unease and completely succumbing herself to you.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Mikasa whispers, taking your wrist and pressing it to her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with seeing something in a porn video and wanting to try it with me. I do that with you all the time!”

You both giggle at her joke, but she continues, “You’re always so good to me and ready to please me, and I want to do the same for you. If you really want to try this, then let’s do it.”

Your worried expression turns into a sweet smile. “I love you, but you already know that.”

“I love you more,” Mikasa replies back. “Now,” she says as she grabs the silicone toy that’s lying next to her body, “you take the lead.”

You take the dildo from her calloused hands, rubbing the toy’s fat tip against her slicked up folds. Mikasa sighs when it rubs against her swollen clit, and you tap the sensitive nub twice to give her more pleasure.

You briskly open the bottle of lube and squirt some of the slippery substance onto your fingertips. Massaging the toy as if it were an actual dick, your fist drags along both ends of the dildo, making sure that it’s adequately coated with lube.

“I’m gonna put it in you first, okay?” you warn Mikasa, and she just responds with a shallow nod. “You’re gonna feel a bit of a stretch, but just stay relaxed for me.”

The toy’s cockhead prods at her entrance, before being pushed into her gummy walls. Mikasa feels like she’s being split apart, her chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. She begins to panic, but her pussy’s strong grip on the dildo begins to ease up when you swipe her clit back and forth.

“It’s okay; you’re okay. I’ll go slowly,” you reassure her, and only then does her heartbeat begin to steady. You give her time to adjust to the foreign feeling, and after a minute of slowly inching the thick member into her tight cunt, the toy gently kisses her cervix. Her head feels light and airy, and the only thing her hazy brain can register is how absolutely full she feels.

“I’m gonna put it in me now, too,” you tell her. You position yourself so that you’re scissoring her, with one thigh over hers while your other thigh rests under the other. You rub the toy’s tip along your folds, throwing your head back when the plastic catches your clit. The dildo slides in easier with you, and a couple seconds later, you’re both ready to begin grinding into one another.

“I’m gonna move, okay? And when you feel ready, you can grind against me too.”

Mikasa watches as you drop your hips and squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the toy’s cockhead slamming deliciously into your cervix. You do it again and again, until you work yourself up to a comfortable pace. Your tits bounce with every movement of your body, and she feels the sweat of your thighs dripping onto her legs and sticking onto her skin.

She bites her lip and experimentally rolls her hips; her eyes roll to the back of her head when she feels the dildo drag along her walls, massaging her g-spot with every swivel and swirl of her pelvis. The sensation feels so amazing, like nothing she’s ever felt before, but the view makes the experience ten times more pleasurable— your brows are knit and your lips are parted as soft mewls slip past your lips; you stare down at her with hooded eyelids and a damp lash line, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Mikasa’s hands fly out and grab at your tits, kneading the flesh and tweaking your nipples between her fingers. You squeal at the increased pleasure, throwing your head back and speeding up the bouncing of your hips. Your hands, once resting on her stomach, travel up and down the expanse of her torso before settling on her clit. You swipe the bundle of nerves back and forth, coaxing her towards her high.

“Gonna cum soon,” you choke out between labored breaths. “Cum with me, yea? Wanna watch you cream all over this dick.”

Your orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly, making your legs kick out and your body thrash around as heat and pleasure sear across your skin. Your walls clamp down around the dildo, threatening to push it out with every pulse of your fluttering cunt. Once you finish riding out your high, you slide the toy out of your hole, focusing your attention on Mikasa; the soft ah’s tumbling past her lips are an indication of her looming orgasm.

Your thumb continues to play with her clit, but your free hand wraps around the midpoint of the dildo. You push the shaft in and out of her pussy, fucking her harder than before. She squeals and tries to force her thighs closed, but you deliver a light slap to her tit.

“No, keep your legs spread for me,” you command, and even in her fucked out state, Mikasa still registers and obeys your command. “Feels good, right baby? There’s no need to hold back— just let go.”

Mikasa’s heels dig into the bed and her hips lift off the mattress, crying out loudly as her body convulses and her thighs shake. You fuck her through her orgasm, growing drunk off the way her cheeks flush pink when she’s cumming, or the way that her eyes squeeze shut and her lips jut into a pout, or the way that her abs ripple slightly from the intense pleasure that she feels in her core. She looks beautiful; she looks ethereal.

She looks perfect.

Mikasa’s hands push away at yours, quickly growing uncomfortable by the overstimulation. After slowly easing the toy out of her sensitive cunt, you wrap it up into a towel and place it on the dresser. She’s still in a daze when you return to the bed, extending her arms out to you so that you can fall into them.

And as you lie in her arms, your breath slowing down and growing softer, she realizes that she was a fool for ever questioning how you feel about each other.

You’ve built a house inside her heart, and you have no intention of ever leaving.

taglist will be in a separate reblog!!! thank you for your continued support (*≧∀≦*)

#aot x reader #aot smut #mikasa x reader #mikasa smut #aot x you #mikasa x you #aot oneshots #mikasa oneshot #himbos and bimbos 2022 #🎲.writes #🎲.oneshots

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the-wizards-fandom-library · 4 months

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Adventures in Drowsy Town: S1 EP4: Watcher World Wonders! Addendum: One of our researches has managed to catch of the episodes of the AIDT cartoon channels late at night and has given a basic synopsis of the episode that they managed to watch. Synopsis: Episode follows the titular squid monster character "Wiggly" going to visit his brother who owns his own theme park. Wiggly introduces his little brother "Blinky" who the researcher describes as a purple and pink cyclops with one unblinking eye wearing a top hat and holding a cane with an eye. The episode follows Wiggly and Blinky as they venture into Watcher World teaching kids lessons in a sort of ISpy type of game. This episode also introduces the "Sniggles" as a secondary character besides the two main. Incident in Episode: The "incident" that occurred within said episode is when the game of ISPY became a bit dark. Here is a recollection of what occurred during the last few minutes of the episode. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blinky: "Okay! Last three items! I show three items and you have to tell me what these three have in common!" [Drum roll sounded and three items appeared on screen with a circus spot light, A box of Popcorn, A bubble and a human head] Blinky: "What do these three have in common?" Wiggly: "Golly Gee Blinky! This one's tough!" [Turns to camera] "Do you know the answer friendy-wends?" [The two started to clap as children's cheer cold be heard] Blinky: "That's right! Good Job! They all go "POP!" [The screen turns towards the three items, as Blinky's voice could be heard. "Popcorn pops in the popcorn machine, Gum bubbles go "POP!" and your head can go "Pop!" too watch!"] [Suddenly the human's head started to inflate in graphic detail as it exploded into a mess of gore and brain matter] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Researcher XXXX has been told to take leave after having feelings of someone "watching" them after they expressed feelings of paranoia. Later researcher XXXX was found with his head exploded in their home with the TV on.

#fandom #fandom blog #hatchetvers #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #the lords in black #lords in black #blinkotep #blinky #wiggly #wiggog y'wrath #fan art #fan arrt #i was going to draw tinky but goats are so damn hard to draw #Adventures in drowsy town Au

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rosexhart · 2 months

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Waiting for Sunset

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Gekko x Reader

Accidentally running into the agents of Omega Earth, you are taken hostage. Hostages aren’t common for them, but you seem to be the exception. So much for your first time in L.A.

Word count: 4.4K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4

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The next few days were quiet. There was a mission that Gekko and the majority of the people I’d met had to attend. The other agents I really didn’t know. I spent most of my time training and working on paper work for Cypher. It was a slow few days. When everyone did come back, it was an unsettling feeling. A quiet had settled over them. Even Gekko’s usual loud and bubbly personality was suppressed by a heaviness. During a more quiet evening Brimstone called a meeting with all agents. We all piled into the living area, and I sat with Gekko and Neon. Brim had the screen switched to a slideshow with the only text reading— Project Mirror.

“Alright Agents. As you know, Omega Earth is continuously evolving as are we.” He started, “Which means we are expecting them to have a new agent same as us within the month. We need to stay alert. We also have a new issue. They took their first hostage and we need to make sure they take no others. From now on I want to make sure a few of you are checking the surroundings areas for any wandering civilians as a precaution for the time being.” Brim mentioned before clicking a button. The slide changed.

“First up, we are going to get changing recon rotations.” Brim’s voice began to drone and I spaced out for a while. Gekko’s hand patting a constant rhythm on his leg, and when he wasn’t doing that his leg was bouncing.

“Any questions?” Brim asked as I finally came back to my senses. There was a silence among us.

“Good. Dismissed.” Brim said stepping away as quite a few people began to walk away or chat.

I was about to do the same and see if Cypher had any new work for me when Gekko pulled me aside.

“Hey, do you wanna get some fresh air?” He asked me and I nodded with a light smile. We took the teleporter up to the place I first came into when I was brought here. It was always more comfortable up here.

“Thanks Gekko,” I said softly as we walked around the broken courtyard.

“No problem, I know how stuffy it gets down there especially for the little guys.” He said walking with me and kicking a rock along with his foot.

“Speaking of, where are they?” I asked and he patted his bag.

“In here, I’d let them out but man my brain is melting and I just need a quiet minute.” He said and I laughed.

“I get that,” I said back brushing some hair out of my face that had fallen there with the wind.

“Oh me and a couple of the other agents were planning on doing some shopping later this week. You should join us.” Gekko said speeding up his pace to walk in front of me, while also walking backwards so he could face me.

“That sounds like fun but I doubt Brim will let me out.” I mentioned and he shook his head.

“Leave that to me, I’m sure with a little persuasion we can convince him to let you leave at least for a few hours.” Gekko said and I rolled my eyes.

“Good luck with that.” I said and he smiled, slowing back down to walk by my side again.

“No luck needed when you’re me.” He said and I laughed. A whirling of machines and clicks sounding behind me somewhere. Gekko’s head turned and he waved. I looked back to see a camera with a faint blue glow to the lens studying us.

“That’s just one of Cyphers cameras.” He mentioned as the camera folded back and practically disappeared against the ruined brick.

Later going down to Cypher’s lab, I stopped for only a moment noticing a faint line that crossed the door way. I passed through it with ease before Cypher turned and looked at me.

“Enjoy your time with Gekko?” He asked and I nodded.

“Yeah. He’s growing on me.” I stated as I sat down at the little makeshift desk he had set up for me.

“Gekko is a good person, but getting those small creatures of his was a mess.” He said shaking his head while working on something.

“What am I working on today?” I asked as I looked over the manila folder with a tentative gaze.

“Need you to go over the last mission reports… I felt like Brim was missing something.” He said as he typed in a code on his computer. I nodded as I sat down to look over the reports. He was right. There had been some type of change from the last mission to this one. They were getting more aggressive.

“Cypher this isn’t right is it?” I asked looking over a report a final time and he looked over at me with a sigh.

“I was worried you may say that. It is in fact truth. I’m not sure what changed in their tactics but we are going to have to evolve ours or risk a detonation.” Cypher said and a lump formed in my throat.

“Can I help?” I asked and he turned looking at me. “Not unless you become radiant overnight.” He stated and I hummed in thought.

“Maybe not radiant but good with a weapon.” He laughed and nodded.

“I like your thinking.” He stated and we worked in quiet the rest of the day.

The next day was much the same, but I was pulled away from tasks by Gekko.

“Come on,” he said pulling me back outside, “it is essential to me that you learn something outside of the scary protocol so I’m gonna teach you my spray painting skills.” He said spinning a can in his hand.

“Spray paint? I thought that was Raze’s thing?” I mentioned and he looked at me.

“We are all allowed to have the same hobbies. Hers just also involve explosions.” He said with a smile as he started painting on a rather large canvas that was precariously hung from the bricks.

“Ok, we’ve got a nice foundation, now,” he pulled me over by the wrist and put the can in my hand, “I’m just going to help you with the finer details, but what do you want to make?” He asked and I looked over the blank canvas.

“How about something simple, like your wingman?” I asked and he smiled.

“Don’t giving the little guy an ego.” He said as he positioned his hand over mine, and helped me make the basic shape of wingman. “Good, now we go in with a little lighter just to add some high lights to him.” He said as he picked up a lighter color. He was closer now, his chest brushing against my arm and shoulder as he stepped back behind me. He was close and only now I realized how much time we truly had been spending together. It was making my heart beat a little faster. Perhaps I was just over thinking our interactions.

“Piece of cake,” he said as he took the can from me and picked up another. My hand and wrist already spackled with flicks of paint. “Now we can add more line work.” He said and we continued like this for probably a half hour. My breath constantly catching anytime his hand met mine. Finally after a little bit of time we stepped back and there was wingman, holding a weapon, looking back at us in his spray painted glory.

“Not bad,” he said looking at me, his own hand covered in flecks of paint.

“Well you did it, I just held the can.” I stated and he waved it off.

“Nonsense,” he stated, “you got the makings of an artist if I have anything to say about it.” He tidied up the paint cans and glanced at me.

“So uh… I was thinking.” He started and I crossed my arms.

“That’s dangerous,” I said and he scoffed with a laugh.

“Shut up, I was thinking maybe you could join the rest of us for movie night. If you’re up for it.” He asked and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What movie?” I questioned and he shrugged.

“It’s Raze and Killjoy’s turn to pick tonight so your guess is as good as mine.” He said standing up straight again.

“Alright,” I said with a shrug and he smiled.

“Cool,” he said as he brushed off his hands, “Let’s get back I’m sure they are wondering where we are.” I nodded in agreement as we headed back for the teleporter. A whirling noise caught my attention and I glanced as Gekko went through the teleporter. There I saw one of Cypher’s cameras, but the blue hue was more of a red now. I made a mental note of it before also stepping into the teleporter.

Once back down in base, I split ways with Gekko and got myself cleaned up. I brushed back my hair from my face and stood in my room looking over my clothes and getting into something more casual. Not exactly pajamas but just more comfortable than my everyday wear. There was a rhythmic knock on the door I’d come to know as Gekko’s and I went and opened it. He smiled as me as Wingman raced in.

“Hey, dude!” He called out chasing the little guy into my room. I didn’t mind him being in here but it would be a lie if I said it didn’t make my face flush. He snatched up wingman and looked around at the little decor. “Man, you really got nothin’ in here.” He said and I huffed.

“I haven’t really left since I got here.” I mentioned and he looked back to me.

“If I don’t have any missions we will go out tomorrow so you can at least get a few things.” He said gently as he walked back out of the room with the little creature garbling at him. We walked out into the living space were several already were. Killjoy, Raze, Yoru, Pheonix, Jett, and Neon. They all looked more comfortable in their pjs and were sat in what I assumed was their respective spots. Gekko went and sat down, and I debated sitting next to Jett and Neon, but Gekko patted the cushion next to him. I went and sat next to him as Killjoy used the remote to start the movie. The caption called the movie, Prey. Not sure if it really was any could, I could only focus on Gekko. He bounced his leg again, his arms spread out on the back of the couch, the little dude tucked between us, garbling at anything scary. I leaned forwards scared to make him uncomfortable by leaning back against the cushion. Maybe I’m over thinking this.

“Wow that was.. something.” Neon said as the credits started to roll through.

“Not our best pick,” Killjoy admitted as she stretched.

“It’s alright, always next time.” Raze said, playing with the ends of Killjoys hair.

“I kinda liked it,” Gekko said and Neon looked at him.

“You and I both know why you liked it.” Neon stated and Gekko immediately sat forwards and began to stutter.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said clearing his throat before standing and picking up Wingman.

“Oh! A flustered Gekko! That’s a first.” Jett mentioned leaning forwards and rubbing her hands together.

“Alright I’m not getting ganged up on like you guys did last week. I’m going to bed.” He said walking away and then Phoenix stretched and stood.

“I’m out too, gonna need that beauty sleep.”

“What beauty? All I see is an out dated style.” Yoru mentioned also standing to leave.

“Man, why you always have to shit on my style?” Pheonix asked as he followed behind Yoru. Leaving me and the girls behind.

“So, (Y/N), you’ve been here awhile now. Any crushes?” Jett asked me and I looked over at her.

“Uh.. no? I haven’t spent time with anyone really. Except Gekko.” I mentioned and she huffed.

“Seriously? Figured Phoenix would find some way to spend a day training with you. Guys ego is bigger than his walls.” Neon mentioned and I laughed.

“Yeah no… I’ve only really seen him in passing. Gekko has done most of my training and spent time with me.” I said leaning back for the first time all night.

“Don’t let them pressure you,” Raze started as she freed her fingers from Killjoy’s hair. “These guys will do anything for a little bit of drama to spice up the day to day here.” Raze mentioned and Killjoy nodded.

“They were all over Raze and I asking questions about when we would get together.” Killjoy stated looking over at them and Jett shrugged.

“Can you blame me? You guys work well together. I wanted to see some action, and you two not just gawking from afar.” Jett stated standing up and jumping up from the conversation pit and glided to the floor towards the kitchen.

“And you have no concept of personal space to let us come together on our own.” Killjoy mentioned

“Ah it’s all potatoes. Speaking of, I’m gonna make food, do you guys want anything?” Jett asked as she opened the fridge.

“No, I’m off to bed.” Neon said getting up and heading out.

“Yeah same for us.” Raze mentioned and Jett pouted.

“(Y/N)?” She asked and I sighed.

“I’ll stay up for a bit.” I mentioned as I walked over to join her in the kitchen. She smiled as the rest left us.

As she cooked, I watched her carefully step around the kitchen, her short pony tail swaying with the movement.

“So, how much do you know about Gekko?” Jett asked me and I hummed in thought.

“Uh… well I know what his file says. I know he skates, and knows how to paint.” I mention and she turns and smiles.

“I will tell you, even though he was born and raised in Los Angeles, he is incredibly well versed in the world.” Jett says, spinning a knife in her hand.

“He seems like it. He seems very kind as well.” I mention and she nods as she turns away from me.

“Yeah but don’t let him fool you. He’s loud.. sometimes a bit what’s the word…passionate.” Jett said, still facing away from me. I wondered quietly what she meant by that.

Soon enough I was tucked back into my room away from everyone and silently debating going back outside just to clear my head. My thoughts slowly melting as I mindlessly scribbled on a piece of paper. The night grew later and I could deny it no longer. I needed to release some of my pent up energy. I exited my room and started down the quiet corridor that no longer seemed so ominous. I made my way for the teleporter and once outside began to walk where Gekko and I had earlier in the day. Seeing our painting still hung on the wall. I smiled as I let the cool air run over my skin. Garble garble. I looked down to see Wingman.

“Hey little dude,” I mentioned and he tilted his head. Garble garble garble.

“You know I can’t understand you buddy.” I said, crouching down to his level, he leaned into my hand and held it tightly. I smiled and pulled him up, placing him on my shoulder like Gekko often did.

“I imagine Gekko must be around if you’re out here.” I said as I continued. Garble garble.

“Wingman! Come on! I do not want to play hide and seek tonight dude.” I heard Gekko’s voice beyond a door way. I looked over at wingman.

“This is a common occurrence then?” I ask the small guy as Gekko rounds a corner. He jumps and holds a hand to his chest.

“Jesus… you scared the crap out of me (Y/N).” Gekko said and he looked at Wingman.

“Did you know that they were out here?” Gekko asked looking to Wingman. Garble garble. “Dude seriously? You don’t know the difference between them and a grilled cheese sandwich. Don’t tell me you could smell them.” Gekko said crossing his arms. I laughed a bit.

“He could smell me?” I asked tentatively as they both looked back to me.

“He picks up on small changes here and there.” Gekko said as he held his hand out for Wingman to jump to. Wingman did so willingly. Gekko looked back up at me.

“So… uh. Still on for shopping?” Gekko asked, and I smiled.

“Of course,” I stated and he nodded.

“Cool. Good.” He nodded dusting his hands off. The awkward tension growing around us was too much.

“Do you mind if I sit with you? I just need some quiet.” I stated and he nodded.

“Oh yeah, sure. You can sit with me.” He said and I smiled as we walked back to where he had been. A set up to deploy a bunch of training drones if wanted. We sat down on the wooden bridge boards and looked out into the distance. The moon barely gracing over our presence behind the cloudy skies.

“Cypher mentioned some concerns today..” I said looking over at him. His eyebrows raised a bit but he shook his head.

“Nothin’ we ain’t had before.” He said as wingman rubbed his tiny eyes.

“Does it not bother you?” I asked and he looked over at me.

“Can’t let it bother you. Life just happens. Gotta roll with the punches sometimes. We aren’t always going to win every battle.” Gekko said before looking off into the distance. I could only nod in agreement as we sat in comfortable silence.

A week or two had passed with Gekko and I still training together, I had begun to know the team a little better. Over all everyone had been very welcoming, and I had finally been allowed to add some personality to my room with small decorations. We were out today, the shopping center Jett chose was not really busy. The world felt off though. I could sense a tension in the air.

“Ayo, (Y/N),” a hand came in front of my face and I looked to Gekko, “you doin’ alright? Your heads been in the clouds.” He mentioned and I nodded.

“Yeah just dreading going back to the reports I know Cypher has waiting for me.” I mentioned and he nodded.

“That’s fair, not exactly fun.” He said stirring his boba.

“Enough work talk! (Y/N) you were searching for colleges before everything happened right? Why don’t you tell us about home?” Jett asked and tilted her head a bit at me and I smiled.

“Sure but maybe when we get back.” I said trying to shake my unease. Then, as if on cue, all of our earpieces rang.

“All agents return to base we have an emergency.” Brims voice was laced with a serious concern. We all stood up and were quick to make our way back.

“And just when I was starting to relax.” She mentioned.

When we got back to base everyone was readying up, and another announcement came over the ear piece.

“I want Neon, Jett, Omen, and KillJoy to my office.” Brim’s voices was heavy as Jett waved and raced to his office.

“Wonder what’s going on.” Gekko said as he set his hands on his hips. An alarm sounded and Gekko looked at me.

“Go to your room and lock the door.” He said swiftly as his creatures came out of his bag.

“What’s going on Gekko?” I asked and he shook his head.

“No time to explain, go to your room, and don’t come out until you get a notice from Brim.” He said and I nodded heading for my room as he headed off in another direction. My mind racing as agents passed me by. I closed the door to my room and locked it up tight. My heart racing. I braced the door with the door with the chair that came in the room. I stepped back and looked around the room. No way to communicate, no way to figure out what to do. My palms began to sweat and I dried them instinctively on my pants. I sat on my bed and pulled my knees to my chest. I could hear bits and pieces of conversation over the ear piece which eased my worry a little bit but not much. Soon enough there was an intense silence that made my ears ring. Then a static in my ear piece. It was loud and irritating. I slipped it out of my ear, and set it aside. There was a loud knock on the door.

“(Y/N), you in there?” Gekko’s voice called and I stayed quiet, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I instinctively held my breath and backed up from the door. My hands brushing over the cool metal of the desk. “(Y/N),” the door handle jiggled. I couldn’t hear anything for a moment. I shifted slowly, walking towards my closet to see if I could find anything I could use as some sort of weapon. My heart racing, the blood rush roaring in my ears as I took my umbrella. It would have to do. I held it tightly, and backed up once more. Waiting to see if they would break the door down. The hours ticked by, and I heard nothing for a long time. Then, a heavy knock.

“(Y/N)?” Brims voice called out, and I approached the door, “facility is secure, you can come out now.” His voice sounded right. I approached the door and slid the chair out of the way. Opening it, Brim stood there, looking down at me.

“How did they get in?” I asked and Brim sighed.

“We didn’t realize it, but they had access to the main teleporter and were able to manipulate it to get in. I’m having Cypher look it over now while all teams have been deployed to survey and make sure they aren’t detonating a spike.” Brim stated before turning on his heel and walking away.

“I suggest you go help Cypher.” He said as he headed away. I did as he said and made my way into Cypher’s lab. He was typing away viciously.

“Need some assistance?” I asked and he sighed, setting aside his hat.

“I would appreciate it.” He stated and I sat down in my space. There was a large stack of papers.

“Are the others ok?” I asked tentatively, and he paused.

“Yes,” he muttered, “Gekko is with Sage. He will be safer than most.” He stated, and I looked at him with a furred brow.

“I didn’t ask about Gekko.” I mentioned and he looked back at me.

“Figured you would.” He mentioned and I pressed my lips into a tight line. It was true Gekko was growing very swiftly on me but I didn’t think it was that obvious. “He also asked I keep an eye on you while he was gone.” Cypher mentioned before typing away again. My face flushed and I turned towards the work I had been given, hoping to distract myself with the work. A worried tapping of my finger on my pen was the only sound in the room at one point. I suppose it began to annoy the usually calm and patient Cypher as he walked over and took the pen from my hand.

“Let’s take a walk.” He said as he started out of the lab.

“What-What?” I said standing up and following him. We trekked through the facilities winding halls before Cypher walked out into the training area. He threw me one of his coins, which I’d come to learn are actually trip wires. I caught it and looked at him.

“Everyone at one point or another was scared of having their abilities. They are alarming, scary, and in cases like Neon, if they are not adequately handled, can kill the user.” Cypher said crossing his arms.

“Ok?” I said looking at the small device, “what does this have to do with anything?”

“You’re not adequately handling your thoughts.” He muttered, “You’re distracted, and it’s causing me to lose focus so.” He shrugged his shoulders, “you’re running drills until you can learn to focus. Gekko was much like you, a ray of sun light among a storm of anxiety about letting down his team. You have to realize you’re going to see enemies. You’re going to have problems. You have to learn to overcome come that anxiety in order to live and not just survive.” Cypher mentioned setting up one of his trip wires. “So… drills.” He said gesturing to the training grounds. I huffed before taking a breath and starting. He was right, but I’d never admit it.

It was sometime later I finally collapsed on my bed and took a breath. After a grueling few hours of drills and a long hot shower the wear of the training finally hit my body and the uncomfortable stiff mattress had never felt better. I was almost asleep when a small knock hit my door. I groaned and rose up from the bed, and approached the door. I opened it to see no one there and was about to slam it shut when I glanced down. Garble.

“Oh, Wingman? That must mean Gekko is back. What are you doing buddy?” I asked as I crouched down to his level. He came inside and I didn’t really think about how, but more why he looked even more tired than me.

“Shouldn’t you be with Gekko?” I asked and in his small noises he garbled before hopping up on my bed and flopping down. It made me giggle as his little body jiggled, and I walked over.

“Alright you can nap with me, but make room.” I said laying back down and covered us both up before letting the cool pillow ease the blood rush to my head. Sometime later I woke up to the soft Garbles of Wingman and looked up to see Gekko stood in the door way frozen in abject terror.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly scooping up wingman and I shook my head.

“It’s fine, doesn’t bother me any.” I mentioned, rubbing my eyes a bit to look at him.

“I told him not to bother you while I got cleaned up.” Gekko said shaking his head. “I’ll make it up to you.” He said closing the door behind him. I looked at the clock and seeing it was late I rolled back over to sleep again. What a week.

#fanfic #fanfiction #gekko #gekko valorant #gekko x reader #gekko x you #i love gekko #valorant #valorant fanfiction #whose your agent?#I don’t know if I want to be him or date him

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