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#it's about the love with nowhere to go becomes grief

thenightwolf51 · 8 months

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"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

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willownwisp · 3 months

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ree's leon valentine's day advent <3

hi everyone. <3 as the leon kennedy fluff truther, i'm making an advent for valentine's day because pookie deserves so much love! everyday, i'll be posting a fic ranging from nsfw/sfw fluff for babu leon, i'll be putting out the scenarios and snippets below if y'all are interested. author's note: i've been meaning to put this out like a week ago when i finally figured out the problem w my account as to why tumblr wasn't letting me reply to comments :( but sadly, college got me so head empty. anyway, i've already got 2 days worth of fics already finished so i hope y'all can give me a read. <3

FEBRUARY 8 𖹭 nice legs, daisy dukes. (vendetta!leon x fem!reader) Leon feels like a creep, fuck that. He definitely looks like a creep. Thirty-six year old in all of his 5'11 glory standing outside his girlfriend's college leant against his Ducati like a dick, carrying a box of those, instagrammable pastries you always like to look at. It doesn't hurt to be sweet. Not when you walk — run, at the sight of him in your preppy mini dress, highlighting those long, long legs. Nothing is sweeter, especially when it's wrapped around him.

FEBRUARY 9 𖹭 starry skies, blue eyes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Stars dot stygian skies, the night is young, the moon is high. Leon's heart soars with your every laughter. The way your eyes close and your nose scrunches. God he was so in love with you, he could forgive the fact that the tent should have been up hours ago before night. You swear you remember your knots from your wide-eyed Girl Scout days, and he swears these silly moments with you are what makes life bearable.

FEBRUARY 10 𖹭 cold woes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Leon S. Kennedy. The apple of his instructors' eyes (and yours), he's a top graduate in the Police Academy for fuck's sake. He's decimated hordes of zombies in his first day as a rookie cop. Endured military training in the middle of nowhere, he's saved the President's daughter. He doesn't get sick. Only that he does catch a cold at the expense of prioritizing you, his clumsy girlfriend, who forgot to wear a jacket on a camping trip, offering his warm clothes to you. He doesn't regret it, he likes taking care of you, but there's something adorable about your sheepish apologies as you wait on him. He could get used to being babied. FEBRUARY 11 𖹭 love on me. (di!leon x fem!reader) As much as Leon loves the sun, the beaches, the tropics. Oh what he would give to become a beach bum in his next life instead of being smacked by bioweapons day in, night out, and being a good bitch to good ol' U.S of A. Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights. So why in the world were you dragging him to a love hotel? FEBRUARY 12 𖹭 fill up your cup. (re6!leon x fem!reader) He feels himself spiraling recently, turning to the bottle because a glass is never troubled by his woes. He breaks them of course, can't help it, seems like his life is doomed to him breaking in the end. Fragments of glass scatters on the floor, vodka spills on the floor splashes it around like his grief because his body can only take so much. You arrive as he tries to pick them up, attempts to pick himself up. You whisper assurance, he doesn't deserve it. The way you look at him ardently, the gentleness that is your existence. You empty out his pain, and fill it with love. FEBRUARY 13 𖹭 the thrill, the love. (damnation!leon x fem!reader) He wills his old Yamaha to go faster. Your dainty arms clinging to him, the softness of your touch as his speed breaks the sound barrier. What started as mere curiosity turns into rituals. Secrets that only the both of you know. He knocks on your door at midnight, drives you around town. He scolds you every time your arm breaks free, throwing them to the wind. You don't care, you love the thrill, you love him. Leon admits that there is something alluring to the thrill of the chase. Perhaps that's why he's spent his years chasing Ada, but with you it was different. FEBRUARY 14 𖹭 kiss it better. (di!leon x fem!reader) Leon is a man full of stories, his pain, his peace, his fears, his needs. There is more to him than just being a formidable weapon against bioterrorism. He never was a weapon, just a flesh and blood human, and in his mortality there are scars. Deep within him, and littered in his skin. You kiss the faded slash on his hand, he tells you how he'd got it from when Ashley Graham had tried to stab him under the influence of the plaga. You kiss it again, and what he doesn't tell you is the wave of warmth that washes his entire being, it tugs on his very soul. You kiss the scars because it's there, because it's him, and in his reverie, he thinks you truly are his person.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

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ascesabo · 25 days

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sometimes i want to reach through the screen and shake sabo by the shoulders because. god. there's just so much going on with him.

he's first introduced through the veil of luffy's memories- here he's just another feral jungle kid, sticking it out with ace and luffy, the 'nicer' brother in young luffy's eyes. and then boom. you find out he's a runaway noble trying to escape his abusive, neglectful family- and this changes nothing, they still get to become sworn brothers, but just as quickly as this is resolved, his asshole of a dad takes the three of them hostage. and what does sabo do? he gives up the little sliver of freedom he'd fought for, is willing to become miserable and lonely again if it means ace and luffy are spared. and then he comes home to find that in his absence, his parents have already found a replacement! great!

and he doesn't even get to address how fucked up that is, because stelly runs his mouth and now sabo's too busy trying to figure out how to stop his brothers and their home from getting burnt to the ground. he never gets to give them a proper goodbye- he exhausts himself trying to reach them, but he can't because. you know. he's ten. so where does this leave sabo? ten years old, with nowhere to go- he sets out to sea to try and start over, and for the crime of wanting to escape a terrible life, he's punished with an explosion to the face. he loses his memories, his brothers lose him- and so the cycle continues.

then the army saves him, takes him in; he's essentially a child soldier, with how prodigious of a fighter he is from the get-go. but hey, he thinks he's finally found his footing, even if his past's a blur to him- then it all comes flooding back. in the worst way possible. he sees his brother's corpse and he remembers, but it doesn't matter, does it? he's too late, ace is gone, and sabo's lost ten years of a life he could have shared with his brothers. we don't even know how (if, even) he recovers from this- except for a single passing statement from koala, asking him if he's 'had that dream again' because he'd been crying in his sleep. this is never brought up or addressed again. great!plus, we never do find out if getting blown up at the ripe old age of ten could have left any lasting fire-related trauma; and if it does, what does that mean for sabo, who's pretty much made of it, now?

both of these questions are answered at once- sabo treats the fire as if it's ace. it's ace's legacy he's carrying on, and it's ace he seeks freedom for. he copes by making sure ace lives on in his flames, and how can he ever hate the fire living in him if that fire is all he has left of the brother he never got to see again?

i just have to wonder about him, because he's got so many Issues that just. don't ever get addressed? every time we see him deal with his grief (episode of sabo, his own retelling of events in dressrosa) we never really discover anything about him. i wonder how it felt to finally remember the childhood that eluded him, just to find out he was an unwanted, replacable child. how he feels, living with the knowledge that he could have done something to save ace, that he'd failed to remember the two people he loved the most? i wonder just how terribly that guilt must weigh down on him- because where luffy's already begun to heal, sabo still sees ace in everything he does. his title of flame emperor is a direct callback to ace's final attack in his fight against blackbeard. he talks to his goddamn fire like his brother is still in front of him, which is sweet and heartbreaking and, considering his backlog of unaddressed trauma... incredibly unhealthy. i know these will probably be left unresolved for the sake of moving the story forward- but god, sabo, are you okay?

#one piece #sabo #asl brothers #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #i cannot stop thinking about him #his grief is so. silent #blink and you'll miss it #i wonder if he'll ever be able to reconcile the person he is with the person he never got to be #or if he's just. going to brush it off because Everything Is Fine Obviously #i know he's explicitly stated that he won't live in grief because ace wouldn't want him to #but coming to that conclusion when he's probably had no time to heal #just looks a lot like him holding his fraying edges together with duct tape #my poor sabo #my princess ....#anywayyyy this is just me rambling pls dont mind

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morfitties · 7 months

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Realising that in a somewhat twisted way Dead Poets Society is the perfect coming of age movie. There’s this friendgroup that have been together for years, a new kid joins and becomes part of the group, a new teacher changes their lives, they start to become the dead poets society, one of them grows as a writer, another as an actor, two others are geniuses, there’s one that’s head over heels and thinks about nothing else, a know-it-all, there’s the class clown that’s actually a sweetheart. And just as they’re all about to be the happiest they’ve ever been it starts to go wrong and fall apart and the actor has the best moments of his life on stage with his family watching, not his shit parents, but the six boys and teacher who he loves more than anything; then his day, his life really, is ruined by his fucking father. His last act of agency is deciding to kill himself before he has no choice in anything anymore.

Somehow there is still 30 minutes left to the movie.

We see the best friend having to tell the friendgroup, and then the boy who loved his best friend, that’s his dead. We see them break apart from the heartbreak and the loss, none of them will ever be the same. Just a month before they were joking and living and free and now they are grieving and the love has nowhere to go now that their friend is gone. Then the best friend gets kicked out and sent away for punching another group member because he felt so betrayed. Then they lose the teacher that taught them how to truly be free.

Dead Poets Society has every emotion possible and a character for every kind of teenager and as someone who’s freshly 18 and out of school this is how growing up feels. It was never as drastic as the poet’s situation, but splitting apart, everyone going seperate ways, struggling to see each other, losing one another, being forced into lives you don’t want to live with all of your happiest days behind you and it hurts a lot, it’s a subsection of grief because it really feels like loss.

On a side note trying not to use their names was so hard??? I think about them so much they’re basically my friends Fr Fr

#dead poets fandom #neil perry #dead poets society #todd anderson #anderperry #the dead poets society #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #knox overstreet #richard cameron #mr keating

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roach-works · 15 days

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for all its (apparently many?) flaws, i really enjoyed the fallout show, and i'm ride or die for maximus, obviously. but one of the things i enjoyed about lucy's arc isn't that she wasn't necessarily proved RIGHT or WRONG about her own moral code, she didn't learn that either kindness is its own reward or that niceness is suicidal in a fight for survival.

what she learned, i am pretty sure, is that context matters. you can't actually help people if you don't know anything about them. you can't enact justice if you don't know what the case on trial is. you can't come in out of nowhere and make snap decisions and be anything more than one more complication in a situation that was fucked up long before you were born.

that's what we see over and over: she comes in out of nowhere, she makes an attempt to help based on her immediate assumption of what's going on, and then everything continues to be dangerous and complicated and fucked up. she doesn't let the stoners explain that some ghouls will genuinely try to eat you the minute they get the chance, and she pays for it. she jumps to the wrong conclusion in vault 4 because not everyone who looks like a monster IS a monster, and she pays for it. yeah a lot of the time cooper is abusing her for his own satisfaction, but when she's a free agent she's a loose canon and it's not because the show is punishing her for TRYING to do the right thing. it's because the show is punishing her for jumping to conclusions.

this show gets a lot of laughs from Fish Out Of Water situations, but i think that even though cooper explicitly says "you'll change up here and not for the better, you'll become corrupted and selfish just to survive" that's not the real message. what lucy learns is how important it is to hear people out, meet them where they're at, and get the full story.

that's why the final confrontation with her father is so important. she hears everyone out. she gets the full story. she listens to all of it. and then she acts with full knowledge of situation. that's what the wasteland taught her: not to be cruel, not to be selfish, but that taking the time to understand what's actually going on really matters.

this is a show that's incredibly concerned with truth and lies. everyone is lying to each other and themselves. scenes change over and over as they're recontextualized. love and hate and grief and hope are just motives in a million interconnected shell games, not redeeming justifications. maximus's many compounded falsehoods are approved of by his own superior, who finds a corrupt pawn more useful than an honorable one. cooper finds out his wife has her own private agenda and this betrayal keeps him going for centuries. lucy's entire society is artificial and from the moment they find out they're not safe and maybe never have been, all the vault dwellers are scrambling to deal with that.

ANYWAY. i just think it's neat. sci fi is a lens to analyze our present through a hypothetical future, and i think it's pretty significant for this current age we live in, where we're all grappling with misinformation, conspiracy theories, propaganda, and deepfakes, there's a huge anxiety over how hard it can be to find the truth out about anything. i think the show suggests that it's always worth the work to try.

#fallout #ive seen critiques that it's fascist and reactionary and i can't speak to that #since i don't play the games #but for what i saw i liked it and thought it made some good points #spoilers

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evilkitten3 · 3 months

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ok so like i know the reason is just. sexism but one thing that really irks me about how the post-timeskip naruto manga handled which characters became medic nin bc it makes absolutely no sense to me

sakura's decision to train under tsunade makes sense, and i love that she got a super strength power up, so no notes there, but the other teams.... yeesh

so first off, team ten. we're told that ino decided to follow sakura into mednin land to keep being rivals with her... despite that at no point factoring into their rivalry at all beforehand. ino never showed any interest in that, nor was the yamanaka clan ever mentioned to have anything to do with healing as far as i can remember. it's like going to art school to stay with your bestie when your goal is to become a dentist. why are you there. find other ways to spend time together. it also kinda goes against her family's whole thing as. the guys who do the torture stuff. and it's barely ever relevant anyway

for team ten, i think the team medic should've been shikamaru, and i think this not just bc i think it makes more sense skill-wise (something about the way the nara clan's various shadow jutsu work just screams "you need good chakra control for this" to me), but also bc i think it would make asuma's death a thousand times more painful. bc shikamaru is a slacker. he's not learning medical ninjutsu bc he wants to, he's learning it bc someone on the team has to in order to stick together. they're all chuunin now; one of them has to be a medic. them's the rules. but he doesn't really care that much, even when he is trying to learn, and he's so used to being smart enough to not have to pay attention in lessons anyway that he's not prepared for classes that require his full focus. and then asuma dies and shikamaru is doomed to spend the rest of his fucking life wondering if he could've saved him by paying just a little more attention to those medical ninjutsu lessons (he could not have (but he'll never know for sure))

team eight makes some sense, since giving the girl who struggles with fighting the healing job isn't exactly out of nowhere, but i do feel it was the lazy choice. kiba already had a sister involved in the medical business, even if she deals more with animals, so he could've started learning from her and found that he liked it. plus kiba's goal is to be hokage, and the current hokage is a mednin, so it's not like it wouldn't support his goal. or shino could do it; would add another layer to his character. hinata works fine but. it's just not a very interesting development imo

but what really gets me is team gai. good freaking grief. out of every single team, team gai was the one with the most obvious choice. bc there was only one choice. lee can't do any kind of ninjutsu, and tenten's only real backstory is that her chakra control isn't good enough for her to be a medic nin. so it had to be neji. canon establishes that every team has to have a medic; this is a policy tsunade got passed even before she became hokage, so no way in hell is she going back on it now.

moreover, neji becoming a medical ninja - especially if hiashi encouraged it - would show some development for the hyuuga clan maybe starting to suck a bit less. bc as a medic, neji would be bound by oath to stay alive for as long as possible. imagine a world in which hizashi came back and hiashi was able to tell his brother that not only was their family starting to change, but his son had chosen a path that would prevent him from ever following in his father's footsteps. it would be the first step (of many) to show that the hyuuga clan was freeing itself from its own bullshit.

also it would've made sakura catching the zetsu pretending to be neji a thousand times funnier. like that's her coworker. they've shared shifts at the hospital together. she's seen neji drink vodka straight from a bottle and then crash on her couch after they got out of a twelve-hour surgery on the fucking dumbass chuunin who managed to step on his own boobytrap. she knows him.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #medical ninjutsu #iryou ninjutsu #haruno sakura #senju tsunade #yamanaka ino #nara shikamaru #hyuuga hinata #inuzuka kiba #hyuuga neji #white zetsu #hyuuga clan #neji should've been a mednin not hinata i will die on that hill

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pinkcowzz · 2 months

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something about tim & dick’s relationship makes me feel so. !!!

they are both such complex characters and it really makes my heart feel so heavy to think about them for too long.

like. dick created robin out of his parents blood. the costume was inspired by his family's colors. the name was one he was given by his mother and the only reason he took up the role was because he wanted to get justice (revenge really) for his parents death. he was taken in by bruce who was SO YOUNG at the time and who was still learning how to cope with his own loss still. their relationship was built off of that shared grief and understanding. but then one day, dick learned to let go of that grief. he was able to not let it consume and control him. and he grew tired of living in the dark nest that bruce built for them. and bruce doesn't know how to deal with someone else he loves leaving him so he kicks dick out. like yes bruce is dick's father figure of course he is. but he was also his brother in a weird way. dick didn't want or need for his parents to be replaced so bruce offered him something different. he offered him a partnership. and partners are supposed to be equal but somehow bruce ended up placing himself higher than dick and it was suffocating so he had to leave.

and in dicks absence, bruce finds another kid. this time, it's a kid who does need a parent. jason's relationship with bruce is so different than the one that dick had and i have to imagine that it hurt. it hurts to see your father be better for someone else. it makes you think why? why not me? why wasn't i good enough? and to make matters worse bruce gave away dick's blood without a second thought. jason is given the mantle of robin and my god i cannot imagine the pain it caused dick to see someone else flying around in his colors. that was his name. and dick is still just a kid. yeah he's like legally an adult but his prefrontal cortex was nowhere near developed. so he's bitter and short and rude to jason. he has to take time to get used to having another kid at the manor and another kid in his colors but its fine! its fine! he does come around eventually and his guard starts to come down and he commits to being there for jason. but it was too late. dick leaves the planet to be a hero and when he comes back? jason is dead. the kid he was just starting to get used to is dead.

not only is he dead, but he's already in the ground and bruce? bruce goddamn wayne didn't even bother to tell him. how in the world could bruce ever consider them partners. as far as dick was concerned bruce was just as good as dead to him as jason was. and it hurts. it hurts to not be able to go home without seeing the ghost of a kid you chose not to protect, the ghost of a kid who died too soon wearing the same colors that your parents died in.

so dick doesn't go home. he doesn't speak to bruce. he builds himself a new life, the teen titans become dicks home. and he's okay with this. his origin is so similar to bruce's but he refuses to be the same as batman. so he faces his ghosts. he doesn't let them haunt him. he hears about haly's circus potentially getting shut down and he goes to deal with it.

and here is where dick meets tim drake for the first time. tim who tried to help him save haly's circus (albeit he accused the wrong guy but he was trying). tim tells dick that he needs to save batman.

and so dick brings him back to the manor. where tim tells dick just how important he was to his childhood. tim explains how that night at the circus shaped him just as deeply as it shaped dick. tim shares this complete and utter faith in robin, as if robin is enough to save batman from his own grief. but dick knows this isn't true. dick was barely enough to save himself from his own grief much less bruces. but nonetheless bruce saved dick when he was at his absolute lowest. gave him something to believe in. so maybe, just maybe, he can try again for bruce. but not as robin. it can't be robin. his partnership with batman died when he was kicked out and it was buried when he was kept out of the loop about jason. but tim knows that batman needs more than nightwing by his side. so he takes up the robin mantle. he takes it upon himself to 'save' batman. and in a way, he does. he helps bring bruce back from the edge.

and dick. the last time someone took up his families colors, someone died. and he refuses to allow that again. he refuses to be the reason that tim suffers. so he becomes the older brother he couldn't quite bring himself to be for jason. and to tim? he's wearing the mantle of two robins on his back.

his own standards are set so high and he tries his damndest to meet them every time that he puts on the mask because he knows where the colors of the suit came from. he knows why dick created this identity. he was there. he saw the grayson's fall.

and for a while, things are good between them. things are great even.

then the attack at titan's tower happens. and tim is told that he is just a placeholder (not a replacement like fannon likes to claim, but the words jason todd used were placeholder). and seeds of doubt start to be planted. was he ever wanted? was he ever truly appreciated? he did steal the suit the first time he put it on. was it fair for him to wear the colors that were born of dicks blood and that jason died in?

then tim loses his whole support system. stephanie. bart and kon. his dad. and finally, bruce.

dick has been so committed to never being like bruce. he has been so dedicated to relying on those who offer him help. nightwing is pillar in the hero community, but batman. batman was the foundation. he is considered a founding member of the justice league. he doesn't want to take up the mantle. it had never been in his plans. but jason proved too unstable to take up the role and of course he can't ask tim to. so he dawns the cowl he has grown to hate.

this just leaves one little problem. damian.

damian who has just been dropped off on bruce's porch by talia. damian who grew up in the league of assassins and is so out of place in gotham that dick doesn't know what to do. he never asked to be batman and he definitely never asked to be a father. yet here he is. having to do both. so he does what bruce did all those years ago and provides damian with the mantle that he created in order to give this kid some sort of outlet. he knows damian needs it.

by some unfortunate twist of fate, dick has unknowingly created such a painful parallel between his own firing and tim's.

and then tim discovers that bruce isn't really dead.

and this kills dick just a little bit more. of course he wants to believe tim. of course he wants his dad back. he wants someone else to be the one to make these hard calls and he wants someone else to parent damian. he doesn't want to be the one who has to fire his little brother in order to save the other.

but he can't take that chance. he can't risk the hope. because losing it would actually ruin dick. so he tells tim it isn't possible. because to dick? it can't be possible.

and this just furthers the wedge between the two of them. tim feels abandoned and lost and he feels as if he has nothing left.

and dick doesn't understand why tim can't see that he's right here. he's right here tim i'm still here why aren't i enough for you to stay?

anyway this got away from me a little bit but god their relationship could make angels weep it truly makes my heart stop if i think about it too much.

#batman #tim drake #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #a lonely place of dying #red robin #sorry this is so long #i just have so many thoughts #they mean so much to me #tim and dick #nightwing #robin

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arachniee · 2 months

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Imagine an AU where reader fell from heaven from the sheer grief of losing Lucifer and had been living amongst the sinners for eons without him so much as knowing. And then he asks Charlie to ask about them when she goes to visit heaven and she drops that information on him. What would go through his mind?

now this was sent when i wasnt accepting requests anymore so even tho i wanted to write a fic, i'll just summarize my thoughts

i would imagine the reason that reader fell after lucifer was the fact that she may have rebelled against heaven because of his downfall. maybe she had started neglecting her duties, or worse, literally did not want to do them until they bring lucifer back to her.

of course, heaven cannot fulfill her wish so they ended up giving her a choice to join him and become a fallen angel. she didnt know what to do, she knew that lucifer was already happy with lilith, but she physically cannot be that far away from him, it hurts too much to ignore. so in the end, she chose to fall from grace just to possibly, even just a little bit, get closer to where he was.

she'd admit, the first few years of her life in this new environment was, well, hellish. But the fact that she knew lucifer was here, no matter how far, it made her feel a tad bit calmer. when charlie finally reaches heaven, asking the angels about a particular one that her father knew. and when they break the news to her, she'd be quite confused. but she'll relay the message to her father anyway, who was (clearly) excited about it.

the moment charlie spoke, the pit in his stomach grew deeper and deeper til confliction filled his every being. she was here? all along?

lucifer would be mad, not at her, but at heaven. and himself. he would blame himself for everything that she went through, before and after her fall. guilt would be creeping up quickly, tears fallings as his mind ran miles. did he hurt her that much, for her to choose to give herself up from what people referred to as paradise? he couldnt imagine the things that may have happened to her here, in hell. the kingdom which he ruled upon. him.

maybe he wouldn't tell anyone at first, but he'll look for her. it would even make his daughter worry, noticing the black, dark circles under his eyes. he hadn't been sleeping properly at all, how could he? she was all he could think about. she consumed him. consumed him in his awake, even in his dreams. she was everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. she was so close, yet so far.

he knew he'd find her, one way or another, sooner or later. and with charlie's (and the hotel's) help, he knew that he was going to see you again. but in the mean time, while he is "resting" (more like thinking about her) as per his daughter's request, he'd probably make multiple rubber ducks that he think you would like. maybe, you weren't mad at him. maybe, you'd accept him again. maybe, you could learn to love him again.

but for now, he'd be flipping hell upside down just to find you, and he's not stopping until he finds you. or maybe, until you finally decide to show yourself to him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #help this was supposed to be short why is it so long

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kaaaaaaarf · 5 months

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Hey you, I'm here for Wolfstar raising harry recommendations 🤗

Hello!! I'm also going to tag @imsiriuslyreading because I know Lana was also looking for some recs!

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but these are some of my very favs:

Wolfstar Raising Harry

Ten Reasons (To Go To Michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 (I also love these two unrelated wolfstar raising harry microfics by the same author) — This is a Sirius raising Harry and meeting recently divorced Remus (who happens to be a writer) on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A must read! that's the art of getting by by sarewolf — Remus becomes Harry's guardian and they move to a muggle village in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, Sirius is freed and comes to stay with them, but can they get back what they once had? Honestly, majorly obsessed with this one, but watch out for the angst! Stealing Harry by copperbadge — In an alternate universe where Sirius Black never went to Azkaban, Harry divides his life between the Dursleys' house and Mr. Black's bookshop -- until Sirius realises what the Dursleys are doing to him, and takes him away from their care. This series is fucking amazing and actually spans several of the books!! Mr Mouse by TracingPatterns (which continues in their wolfstar raising harry series) — A lovely little piece in which a young Harry learns about grief.

Like Real People Do by third_crow (part of the coffee shop au series) — Sirius raising Harry, when he starts falling for local barista Remus Lupin. This is also a beautiful story about what it's like to live with epilepsy and I am extremely obsessed with this series. The Things I Did by Lolo_row — canon compliant, Remus gets custody of Harry and works to get Sirius out of Azkaban. A bit of angst, but tasty! the dogfather au by hollimichele — Harry was raised by his adoptive muggle family, when one day a big black dog shows up. His parents just thinks he's a stray, and Padfoot becomes the family pet (to keep an eye on Harry, and protect him from Voldemort). Eventually this morphs into Remus also coming into the picture.

Wolfstar Raising Teddy

the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual — Divorced wolfstar are co-parenting a very mischievious Teddy who is not about to let his dads stay divorced!! Honestly this fic is so funny, so heartfelt, so fucking lovely. It also features the most beautiful portrayal of a blind character that I ever seen. A must read! Of Memories and Milk Thievery by @mayescapade — Divorced wolfstar raising Teddy again! Wolfstar have been co-parents for years and they wont stop terrorizing/pranking one another. An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account — Single dad Remus. Remus Lupin knows two things--working and caring for his son, Teddy. When his babysitter sets up crowdfunding so Teddy can go swim with the sea turtles at the local animal rescue, Remus doesn't realise how completely their life is going to change. Especially when he meets Sirius Black, the weekend merman in the aquatic show, and someone who might convince him of love at first sight. Honestly a lovely piece, and it also features the Potter clan.

Other (raising both teddy and harry, wolfstar girldads)

Let's Play Pretend by MsAlexWP — My current obsession!! I can't tell you how many times I've read this. Single parent Remus and single parent Sirius meet at a play date and end up pretend dating so that the old women in Sirius' building (who basically stalk him) will stop trying to set him up. Neither of them can date at the moment, so what could possibly go wrong?? Ultimate comfort fic. Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by TracingPatterns — This is single parent Sirius and single parent Remus, both having moved to a small village and meeting at Harry & Teddy's school. A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP — Again, they are both single parents. Harry Potter is recovering from surgery and facing the worst summer ever until a guy with the same crutches as Harry moves in across the street with his son. So lovely!! Hide-and-Seek by onehundredflamingos — Wolfstar girldads raising their adoptive daughter Cassie, who is also a werewolf. This is the story of her first transformation. It's soooo sweet! @industrations has done a bunch of wolfstar and Cassie art, which you should absolutely go and cry over!

For supplementary material, feel free to check out my Wolfstar Raising Harry, Wolfstar Raising Teddy and Wolfstar Girldads tags!

#it's maybe one of my fav genres #wolfstar raising teddy #wolfstar raising harry #wolfstar girldads #wolfstar #fic recs

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nautilusopus · 1 year

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okay FIIIIIINE i'll throw my hat into the Goncharov ring

Been a while i've done a proper movie breakdown, may as well be this one.

Rather surprisingly (but perhaps not too surprisingly given the unexpected renaissance of things like the original Dracula and Breaking Bad on this website out of seemingly nowhere and with very little prompting), I'm seeing a lot of new people suddenly interested in Martin Scorsese's seminal film classic Goncharov, originally released in 1973. Obviously a movie like that doesn't make it coming up on 50 years without generating a lot of discussion about the different ways the movie resonates and why, but coming into it in 2022 there's been so much cultural cruft that's collected around Goncharov that (similar to stories like Fight Club and Scarface) it's a little hard to parse what it's actually about with all the mythologising that's gone on around the characters.

Those movies, in one way or another, are about portraying the downfall of their protagonists -- Fight Club's after ironically creating another system of control and dehumanisation and becoming what he sought to destroy, Scarface's after being consumed by the wealth and power he's amassed. A lot of people assume it's that kind of story, because aren't most well-loved movies? However, I think this is ironically an assumption made because of the genre of film it is. All the people that aren't going, "OMG Goncharov is so cool and badass and fucks bitches," are going, "WOW I can't believe Goncharov is a cautionary tale about power corrupting," and in the process people miss that Goncharov is first and foremost about loss, in all its different forms.

I'm both kind of surprised and frustrated people miss this, given how utterly pervasive the movie is with its clock symbolism -- it's the one thing everyone remembers about it, it was in all the tie-ins. I dunno, maybe that got funneled back into the theory where they're meant to reinforce how Goncharov is just a mortal man at the end of the day, which is fine I guess, but the movie overall becomes a lot clearer when you interpret it through the lens of, "These things are gone and you can never get them back; clocks don't go backwards."

One of the most fascinating things about the movie is how every character embodies a different kind of loss. I'm gonna ease into this and start not with Goncharov but with:

Rybak, who is usually associated with loss as we typically think of it, i.e. the loss of loved ones via death. This comes up all the time, either in his trust issues (why he's being such a prick at the wedding), in the card game (he never bothers to bet much money, knowing he's bad at poker, and still loses all the same). Rybak is terrified of loss, cannot manage it, and ultimately is punished by losing what few people he had left and then being spared by Lorenzo who deems him punished enough, and is forced to survive, to grapple with what his life is now without them.

Goncharov's is actually more subtle, and it's loss of small, insignificant things as a result of the larger losses he believes he's processed. This is something that's frequently contrasted against Rybak. The pawn shop going under is actually a microcosm of this whole thing. Goncharov anticipates that this is obviously going to lead to financial issues for him, plans accordingly to deal with this, and... it works! He's saved! Except that means card games can't be hosted at his place anymore, given it's burned to the ground. Does this matter, in the grand scheme of his life? No, of course not. Poker night still gets had all the same. But it is different now, and always will be. Little things like this continue to add up, until something as insignificant as a towel -- a towel that never should have been in his room, but Sofia is no longer there to drop off his laundry and chat with him -- is ultimately the final nail in a coffin built of insignificant splinters, each one an imperceptible change underneath the much more larger, noticeable story beats of things like grief.

Otto is the big obvious one I'm not gonna linger on: loss of his youth, moments in the past that he wants to redo but can't. Most people at least seem to have gotten this one.

(This is also what the clocks get associated with a lot, which again, doesn't NOT make sense but also if it were just for this one character that, while thematically important, was honestly just a side character with limited screentime and only two scenes, would they really be all over the movie before Otto's name is even mentioned?)

Sofia's a bit abstract, and is the loss of self -- of the familiar anchors we have to who we are, what we think our core principles are, our place in society, who we want to be to our loved ones -- and by the time she dies she is rendered utterly unrecognisable to herself, and is horrified by it. She grieves herself the same way Rybak grieves his wife (even gets a direct visual callback via the way her face is lit when she's burning Lorenzo's check). You see echoes of this in Goncharov as well, but while Sofia is grieving the person she used to be, Goncharov is grieving the world around him (even though really, it's the same world it always was -- time keeps ticking on, one second per second, and neither one of them can ever un-fire that gun).

Lorenzo, tragically, gradually loses his freedom (and maybe in a parallel world would actually be the protagonist of a movie where he chokes on his own hubris like everyone seems to think Goncharov is GRUMBLE GRUMBLE). As he comes into his own more and more by his family's legacy, he is afforded fewer and fewer options about what decisions he can even make. Arguably he was doomed from the start, but the further he clings to power as a means to freedom, the more it drives him to destroying everything he ever (thought he) cared about. The tragedy of his character, and what makes him a good villain, is that he can clearly see what he is doing to himself and he absolutely hates it (his walking out early at the wedding is a tacit admission of this), but his absolute refusal to accept loss, to accept grief and pain and all the awful shit that comes with the human condition, is what causes him to toss aside every out he has because if he has enough CONTROL over his situation, surely he will never have to lose anything ever again. But, really, he already has.

I dunno. Goncharov is one of those movies that is great, and everyone seems to realise it's great, but nobody ever really puts into words why, and that's how you get Fight Club fans lmao. And it sucks because the actual discussion around the movie beyond "it's another hubris story but REALLY GOOD guys" is so much more fascinating and a much more earnest emotional truth that just never gets talked about.

#goncharov #goncharov (1973)#martin scorsese #al pacino #robert di niro #gene hackman #harvey keitel #gaslight gatekeep goncharov

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chelscait · 11 months

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lack of love. | Alessia Russo

category: angst.

summary: where you won’t let yourself give in to the feeling of love and being loved.

word count: 6.7k.

You didn't like this feeling. This was something you had been so afraid of your entire life, afraid that it was going to end, afraid you were going to find yourself nowhere and left alone.

Since childhood you had always been closed off, terrified to reveal any feelings and become vulnerable. Your father told you not to be weak, don't cry, it was pathetic. You don't need help, your overthinking. Don't be stupid.

Those lies stayed with you your whole life, even though your father is not around anymore to emphasise those feelings, your mind thought anything else to be too abstract. You don't need to care for anyone else, just yourself.

Don't let people see your scarred side, your fragile side. Be tough.

Football had always been an escape, a way to prove to your father that you were his perfect model. You were taking his advice too literal, his verbal abuse led to physical abuse which influenced your playing style. You were rough and hard, you took a hefty tackle and got up straight away, returning it with more force.

You were not sure how many red cards and enemies you were given and made, but your career worked out and you were one of the best. That's one thing you can thank your father for.

When he died, you were numb. You didn't know what to feel. Relief or grief?

Your mother wasn't around much, she'd check in from time to time but you knew she didn't care. She had a new family, you knew that. That's all she posted on her social media, like it was only for you to see, which made it feel personal.

You didn't waste much time restarting your life, you wanted something new and fresh and decided to move on, away from your previous life.

You had decided to move to England after the red side of Manchester contacted your agent, they used the argument that they needed strength and body in their team. They needed protection and succession, and they thought you may be the key.

You thought your life wasn't going to change that much, you were still going to be the same Y/N with the same past and future ahead of you. Until you laid your eyes on her.

Alessia was the complete opposite to you, she was bubbly and clumsy and radiated a loving aura. You would never think to take such a liking to such character but you did. Not to say you were obsessed, but you were intrigued.

The team had known about you and your upcoming arrival to the club, which meant they knew your antics and your image. So, when you turned up to your first training session, let's say, you didn't get that much attention, thankfully.

Although there was one that couldn't wait to meet you, Alessia, which you just thought was a part of her welcoming exterior.

"Hi. I'm Alessia, welcome to Manchester. It's so lovely to finally meet you!" She held her hand out kindly and you just stared at her with an unfamiliar face, you noticed her start to shift uncomfortably under your stare and you instantly reached your hand out to hers. You didn't like that look.

The difference between your hands radiated the contrast between you both, hers looked smooth and tanned while yours were rough and scarred, your gaze was focused a little too long to recognise that your grip had gotten a little tight and she tugged her hand out of your hold but she kept her smile.

You immediately felt safe in her presence and wanted to do everything in your control to protect her, and you will protect her.

"Thank you." You whispered to her back shyly, her expression shifted but quickly returned. She didn't expect you to speak the way you do, the lack of confidence from yourself surprised her. Her arms were fidgeting at her side and she allowed herself to reach up and give a quick squeeze to your shoulder before walking away.

You had never felt this way about a person before, you were scared. Was this a good idea?

You remained discreet around your teammates, as usual as any team, they were loud and you weren't quite there yet. You felt tranquil around them though, even if you just watched them. You didn't feel like this in your last team.

However, outside on the pitch with a ball at your feet allowed you to join in in some sense, making it known that you didn't feel left out. You liked it here.

You and Alessia didn't speak much, but to you she was the closest you were to anyone. She'd share warm smiles when you walked into the changing room and quick hellos when you passed each other in the hallways, which made her the one you wanted most.

It was the Manchester derby that revealed your so called feelings for her. You were expecting the game to be rough but you didn't think it would be the game where you revealed your true colours.

Both sides weren't giving up in the grand Etihad stadium, Man City wanted to win for their supporters and had the home advantage, making them try every single move possible.

Man United, however, were not going to give them the title of Manchester and were not going to give up that easily. Not when you were in defence.

The first half was simply red, Leah having scored in the 27th minute from an assist from Ella. You watched from your half as the team celebrated, giving a little fist bump from your position.

You kept your eye on Alessia as she returned to her position to restart, you had noticed a fair few defenders target her as she got closer to goal. You didn't like that, every single time you saw her fall to the floor, it added a build up of anger inside you. You were afraid you just might snap.

It was the start of the second half when you saw your teams colour, red. You had dribbled with the ball yourself into city's half and planned to give a ball in, which you did. You hadn't planned it to reach the blonde, but it did and she planted it perfectly at her feet ready to shoot.

You had admired her ball control for a second before she was tackled harshly to the ground, you heart plummeted and your mind went static.

You had saw the tackle first hand and you knew it deserved a punishment, the added con of Alessia rolling on the floor holding her ankle made you rush in the direction of the defender.

She saw you come over but she didn't back away, everyone seemed to know about your football history, most likely the altercations you had gotten into before but it didn't look like she did.

She had looked arrogant the moment you saw her in the tunnel, you mean you think that about anyone but you didn't like her look. You now didn't like her at all.

"Hey!" You shouted at her and she turned her gaze to you, not able to reply before being pushed to the ground. That's when her face changed, for good.

She tried to crawl back but you followed her, rolling up the sleeves of your under layer as far as you could and pulling her back up by her collar.

You could here a lot of noise around you but you blocked it out, wanting to witness every single detail you were emitting from the girl under your hands.

"You ever and i mean ever! Hurt her again like that, i will break your own legs and make sure you never play again. Is that clear?"

The defender wriggled under your hold, desperately wanting to escape after your threatening.

"I didn't mean to! I swear it was an accident.."

"I said is that clear?!" You tugged her shirt back closer to you and got closer into her face.

"It's clear, okay. I'm sorry, please..." She had moved her head to the side after that and you released her when you felt your shoulders being tugged back, pushing her back down to the floor. Making sure it hurt.

"Get off me." You chucked whoever was on your back off and walked away, not before being whistled at by the ref who remorselessly lifted the bright red card in your direction.

"I need you to get off the pitch now, it will be decided how many games you'll have to miss but looking at the state of you it will be a fair few."

Your face remained blank as you stared at her hard face as she wrote your name and number on the back of the card.

"Off. The. Pitch." She looked up as she saw you make no move, placing her hand on your back and pushing you towards the sidelines.

Sauntering back, you could see the unimpressed look on Marc Skinner's face as he crossed his arms and decided to look back onto the pitch to see if Alessia was okay.

You could see she was up, which was a good sign but you could see her distressed expression. She looked stoic, and you were the cause of that.

That made your impression cease, a small frown making itself at home on your face. Now you were stuck.

You couldn't bear to watch the rest of the match, to be honest you couldn't care.

You knew your team was disappointed, disappointed they lost a key player over something she could have stopped herself over, but that's you. They knew what they were signing up for.

You had decided to busy yourself in the changing room, indulging in a long, lonely shower and staying away from all social media. You also knew that you probably were going to get a lot of hate tonight, like usual.

You were in front of the bathroom mirrors when you saw her. You froze in place while you were putting your hair up, staring at her anxiously in the mirror.

She froze too, only for a second after catching your eye and trailed to the stall furthest from you.

You sighed at the distance, you've messed up but you were conflicted. You did it for her, did she not appreciate that? You were protecting her, the first thing you promised yourself you'd do when you met her, but it completely backfired.

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard the stall door open again, looking to your left. She sighed once she noticed you were still there and hesitantly placed herself next to you at the sink.

"Ales-"

"Why did you do that?" She scolded you as she was scrubbing at her hands, you looked down to see her rubbing harshly.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't ask for an apology, Y/N. I asked why did you do it?"

You could hear her voice tremble as she slammed the tap shut, finally looking at you. The innocence in her eyes made you feel guilty, you hadn't wanted her to become exposed to you. Not like this.

"I don't know.”

"Bullshit. Just tell me."

"Alessia, it's just something i do. I can't get rid of the feelings and the anger inside me, okay?"

"But i know you wouldn't do that in protection of your teammates, usually you only do it to protect yourself."

You furrowed your eyebrows at the precise knowledge that she somehow knew, her eyes widen as she revealed herself to you.

She did know you. Better than you knew her and somehow you thought you had one side feelings.

"I don't know Alessia, seems you already know the answer."

Her face softens as she stares at the side of your face, she makes out the beauty behind your facade. She wanted to touch you, she's always felt this way but too afraid of the limitless reaction you'd give.

"Y/N..."

"Why do you think i did it?" Your face returned blank and emotionless as you looked at Alessia the same way you'd look at anyone.

Alessia always felt special whenever you looked at her the way you did, she felt safe. Now, she's terrified that she's now ruined that.

"Erm.."

"I did it because this team is nothing like what i am used to, i like it here and i'd do anything to protect anyone." You told her a massive lie, protecting anyone isn't on your agenda. Just her.

Your father wouldn't like what he's seeing right now, not just the fact that your interested in a girl, but the way your allowing your feelings to take over.

You watched Alessia's face fall and recover, nodding slightly as she swallowed. She kind of hoped for you to tell her you liked her, that she was the one. She knew it was too soon and fast but there was something intriguing about you. She wanted more.

You weren't one to think that Alessia was troubled too, she was just too good at hiding it.

Marc had signed you detention with the team therapist for your 'anger management' issues. To say they weren't helping was a lie, but you'd never admit to it.

The therapist had accidentally let slip that she saw Alessia often, which wasn't too good on her behalf due to confidentiality but you swore secrecy.

Besides, you had mentioned the blonde a few times in your sessions.

The slip up made you look at Alessia again in a new light, now noticing every slim chance of discomfort that racks through her expression. Now, you felt even more protective.

You and Alessia stayed mostly away from each other throughout the rest of the season but there was no hostility, interacting in small conversations when others were around and stealing glances across the pitches and changing rooms.

You finally came out of your shell a bit and started to join in a lot more with conversations, the team welcoming and encouraging you with open arms.

The last game of the season all came down to the title, Chelsea having lost their last game and Alessia winning Man united's with a last minute goal allowed the reds their first WSL trophy.

You didn't exactly know what to feel as this was your first season, but Alessia had been waiting and wanting this for ages.

You were the first one she came over to after the game, scooping you up so tightly in her arms. You froze as she did so, arms still at your sides until she buried her face deeper into your neck to where you could feel the wetness of her cheeks.

You allowed yourself to let go that one time, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face in her hair.

It felt comfortable and it felt right. You couldn't help yourself but to squeeze tighter and smile in her hair.

She let go of you slowly, her face scarily close to yours and her eyes wandered to your lips for a hot second. You cut off the gaze by turning your head to the side and losing all physical contact, you didn't want her to get mixed up in your mess, too scared to hurt her even more than what she supposedly has already.

"Congratulations, Alessia. You deserve it." You turned mute after that, stepping off to the side towards the physio to ask for some treatment.

She didn't get the chance to congratulate you too, you were the one to give her the assist after all. The same as every single goal she scored this season.

After the trophy lifting, the team found themselves dancing away in the changing room with loud music blaring. You didn't join in though, preferring to sit and watch.

"Are you coming out with us tonight, Y/N?" Ella Toone, Alessia's best friend, excitably asked you as she plonked down next to you.

"Here, have one of these." She bent over towards the box of beers, clambering one out of its shell and offering it in your direction.

"I don't like beer." You urged her to put the drink back, shaking your head in disgust.

"Oh, come on! We just won the league, surely you can try just one!"

The look of the bottle made you feel sick, the malty alcohol isn't an enjoyable thing for you, as you had to open them one by one for your father when you were barely a teenager.

It didn't help to the fact that Ella was pushing it in your face, the troubled look you were clearly showing wasn't telling her no and you panicked, snatching it off her and chucking it to the ground.

The smashing sound made the whole room jump and turn silent, you looked around to see worry etched on their faces and Ella curled up into the cubby next to you with her eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

You didn't notice that you'd aimed it right in front of her, noticing the glass very close to where her only socked covered feet were.

This exact moment you felt vulnerable and you had no way to hide it except to run, which is what you did. Succumbing to the wall in an empty hallway, with only yourself and your thoughts.

"Ella? What did you do?" Alessia had made her way over to the shocked Mancunian, bending down to pick up some of the pieces of glass.

"All i did was offer her a drink and she smashed it out my hand, i literally didn't say anything!" Alessia sighed as she stood up with a hand full of glass, making her way to the bin and back.

"Ella, you have to stop being so oblivious to people's feelings. It was obvious she didn't want the drink, you have to respect people's choices. You never know."

Ella looked confused to the fact that her best friend was 'telling her off', raising an eyebrow as she watched her then hurry off to find you.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alessia had found you hunched up against a blank wall, staring at the ground.

You didn't bother looking up, nodding slightly to answer her question and pursing your lips.

"I'm sorry about Ella, she doesn't know when to stop."

You felt her presence get closer to you and she slid down the wall to sit next to you, busying herself by playing with her socks.

"You know, if you ever want to talk about anything.. I'm always he-"

"Alessia, i don't need your pity. I am fine." You grumbled as you leant your chin on your bruised knee, not making any move to look at her.

"I care about you." She whispered, letting her heart break her minds control, before quickly recovering. "I care about all of you, i want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." You stood up and moved away from her, but stayed still in your spot like you were waiting for her.

She eagerly stood up to face you, but your eyes didn't connect with hers and without realising she took your cheek in her hand to make you notice her.

The warm hand on your cold cheek made you flinch, herself returning her hand up to her chest and rubbing her neck.

"Why are you so nice to me? I mean, have you seen the things i've done? I'm not a good person."

"Well, to me you are. You've been nothing but nice."

Your face scrunched up at her comment, shaking your head vigorously.

"Y/N.." She reached out for your hand as you began to tremble, you weren't used to this and you didn't deserve it.

"Don't. Just don't." You pushed yourself away from her and scrambled back to the changing room.

The look Alessia gave you was haunting your mind, you didn't need to transfer your problems to her. You didn't need to be added to her plate.

You had decided to still go out that night, wanting to rekindle any kind of mishap that you'd caused earlier on. You had apologised to Ella when you first saw her, herself brushing it off with a small embrace, too tipsy to even remember what you were talking about.

The girls had ordered a whole tray of shots to the table, you differed whether or not to give in to the small amounts of clear liquid, but when you saw there was one left you didn't think twice at everyone's gaze on you.

The neat shot you took in one gulp, without flinching, made the whole team go crazy, making you let out an unknown giggle as you placed the tiny glass back down.

"Another? Shall we get more?" You heard Millie Turner shout towards you from her place opposite you, the big smile on her face encouraging you to say yes.

Guess it was too late now.

"Okay."

You let her swing her arm around your shoulders and guide you towards the bar, knocking her hand out the way when she went to pay, placing your card on top of the machine first. Your doing made her shove your shoulder, knocking into someone next to you.

"Sorry."

You turned to see Alessia with her newly made drink, removing one of her hands to rub your arm.

"It's okay."

She gave you a suggestive look before turning back round to Mary, the slight glint in her eyes absorbed your mind, bringing a hint of blush to your cheeks.

Your scene was cut short when you heard Millie cough to get your attention, passing you a shot glass before swigging back hers. You followed along, slamming it back down on the table once you were done.

You let yourself flow free through the night, not thinking once about anything but the enjoyment encasing your body.

You let Millie drag you, along with a few of the other girls, to the dance floor where they showed no shame, making you feel comfortable to let loose.

You don't think you have laughed that much in one night, too much to the point that there were tears poking at the corner of your eyes.

The alcohol kept flowing and jokes were kept made but you suddenly had all your focus on the blonde.

You made it obvious that you were staring, she looked absolutely breathtaking. Per usual.

Her hair looked gorgeously silky, like she hadn't been dancing around for the past hour, and her lips looked inviting.

Your daydreaming made you bite your lip and pull your gaze away from her, knowing it was wrong to be thinking like this.

She had caught you, pretty much, eye fucking her and decided to make her move. Wanting this just as much.

She got up, adjusting her skirt obviously to catch your eye and started her path towards her destination, looking behind her straight to your view.

You knew the look meant 'follow me' and you eagerly rounded the table to follow her, catching up to her but stayed behind.

She reached behind her to allocate your hand, yourself gingerly slotting your own into her hold. Her grip tightened as she felt your skin on hers and pulled you round in front of her when she got to a quiet corner, slamming her lips onto yours.

The forced act made you elicit an unexpected moan into her mouth, laying your hand on her cheek gently to relax her craze.

She let you take control, pressing yourself more into her body resting her against the wall. The kiss was feverish, both too tipsy to realise what was happening in your own ways.

She let out noises you've always wanted to hear when you roamed your hands around her body, you could feel her shift underneath you as you trailed your way down her jaw towards her neck.

"Y/N..."

Her flawlessly manicured hands buried themselves in your hair, tugging when your tongue found her most sensitive spot.

She tugged again, harder as she tried to conceal her moans. You disconnected from her body and licked you lips as your eyes flickered from hers to her lips.

"Shall we.. go back to yours?" You asked tentatively, your fingers placed around both sides of her neck, fiddling with the ends of her hair.

Alessia, shocked, nodded and grabbed your hand again, tugging you towards the exit of the club.

Safe to say, that was one of the best nights you've ever let yourself have.

You woke up the next morning in the unfamiliar room, the brief morning light blinding you through the gaps of the curtains. You rubbed your eyes when you were regaining your conscience, the slight blur fading out to find a slacked arm draped over your stomach.

"Oh shit." You whispered to yourself as your accusation was confirmed, finding a sprawled out head of blonde hair nestled beside you, along with no clothes on. No clothes on either of you.

You rubbed your hands across your face hoping this was all just a dream, stopping to think for a second on what was to come next.

Reaching over to grab your phone that was sat uncharged on her perfectly set bedside table, you picked it up to see a few mere messages and a beaming clock that read 6:43.

Surprisingly you were not that hungover, guessing the sex wore you out to the point of soberness. You laid in the crumpled and dirty covers for a bit longer to not disturb the blonde, before removing her arm carefully and getting up to find the bathroom.

You returned to the bedroom to find Alessia now conscious but still half asleep, grabbing your scattered clothes from off the floor.

"Morning, thought you did a runner."

You didn't reply to her, too focused on getting decent, before turning to her.

She laid her hand upon her forehead and her eyes tightly closed, you could tell she was suffering a bit more than you were, making you feel a tad guilty.

"Do you need some pills? Where are they?"

"Bathroom cupboard, thank you." She measly replied as she stayed as still as she could, yourself going to retrieve the packet, popping two of them out before handing them to her with the glass of water that was on her bedside table.

"I know this isn't a great time to talk about it but, last night... you have to know that it wasn't, i don't know... ideal."

She sat up to become more focused, lifting the duvet up with her to cover herself up as well as furrowing her eyebrows.

"We were both drunk and it wasn't meant to happen, okay? It was a mistake and i hope that we can look past it."

Alessia, was stuck staring. Her heart dropping at your harsh words, wishing this had gone the other way. She tried not to show her sadness and disappointment and nodded, agreeing to everything you said.

"Yes, of course. I agree."

"Okay, good. I am glad we're on the same page." You gave her a smile and she tried to return it, before saying your goodbye and leaving her room.

She couldn't hold it in much longer before letting the tears flow freely as she bit her lip to repress the sobs. Falling to the side of the bed you were once laying, sobbing into the pillow out of sheer embarrassment.

She thought that she'd found her way through to you, she thought that you'd actually stay. She wanted to be laying in your arms, pressing light kisses to every touch of skin she could find. She wanted you, but you didn't feel the same.

The next couple of days you tried so desperately to rid Alessia of your mind, finally exploring the city a bit and resting at home. Though at every single point, a simple detail of yours and Alessia's night crossed your mind.

You laid awake at night, processing the thoughts and feelings flowing through you. You knew you weren't enough, you didn't deserve her and you'd do everything in your power to keep her from you even if that means hurting yourself, she deserves better.

The week after that night, there was a special Man United honorary dinner to celebrate the team and it's first highly achieving season. You had to go, there was no escaping it, the email stating it was compulsory as there will be media.

You were, as to say, the last one there pretty much, which left you the last open seat with no option. The blonde occupying the one next to it, hesitantly turned her head around to find you. She gave you a small smile and looked down again as you gripped the back of the chair to pull it out, planting yourself right on the edge.

You couldn't not take notice of all your teammates hushed whispers once you sat down, but you knew they meant no harm. They all gave you discreet 'how are you's?' which made you feel secure in your position and you replied with a small curt nod to every one.

You could feel Alessia's presence as you started a small conversation with the girls to your other side, feeling an unfamiliar touch on the side of your chair.

Alessia had subtly placed her soft hand on top of yours after noticing you grip the seat, the hold made your breath hitch but you didn't move.

You allowed your hand to switch over in hers, sliding your fingers gently in between her own.

You didn't think in that moment, too obsessed with the feeling of her touch.

She gave you a small squeeze as she turned to the other english girls to talk about the upcoming world cup.

The ending of your own conversation made you snap back to reality, the silky contact of her skin on yours made you fidget, conflicted on whether to stay or let go.

You felt your hand get warm and sticky, and you wiped your other hand on your trousers to try and escape the feeling.

You couldn't help yourself no more and ripped your hand out of hers, her gaze snapping towards you at the harsh action.

"I'm sorry." You kept your eyes down as you stood up, Alessia getting the hint that the apology was for her. "Excuse me."

You felt her stare on your back as you made your way outside for some air. Alessia waiting a little bit before following after you with a face full of confusion.

To say your teammates haven't noticed is an understatement, all of them stealing glances to each other as they watched Alessia try again and again. Yet, none of them have verbally spoke about it.

"Tell me. Tell me what i am doing wrong." You heard Alessia call from behind you, slapping her arms at her side.

"Alessia, please." Your tone contrasted towards hers, trying to stay calm.

"Just tell me! Have you not got the hint, Y/N?" Her voice broke as she tried to pry an answer out of you, your heart cracking at the sight. The sight of the pain your adding to her.

"You're wasting your time, i'm trying to help you." You raised your voice slightly as you turned to look at her, raising your hands to calm her down.

"You're not! You're just making me fall more in lo-"

"Don't say it, please." You cut her off as your heart started to race at the verbal term you've never felt.

"I'm in love with you!" One lonely tear fell from her eye, as her figure began to cave in.

"No you're not, you think you are but you are not. I promise you."

"Don't try and change my feelings, stop putting words in my mouth. I love you, Y/N... and i know you love me too." That one tear increased, her perfectly done mascara falling down her cheeks.

"Stop! Just stop! You..."

Alessia pushed herself towards you, taking a tight hold on your cheeks and placing her forehead on yours.

"Please.." You could feel her shake as she brushed her lips against your frozen ones, wanting so desperately to press them together but couldn't with the lack of consent. She waited though, as long as she could before you swiftly turned your head away.

The dismissal made her release the sobs held up inside her, you wanted to pull her into you so badly but your state wasn't allowing you to.

The criminal look of her placing her beautiful hands on her perfectly destroyed face, made your hands shake.

"Come, let me take you home or something..."

"No! I'm fine, just leave me alone." She sloppily spoke as she kept her face covered, turning around and making her way back inside.

You stood still as you watched her leave, only when the door shut is when you started to panic, your hands crawling up the side of your face and into your hair.

"You are so stupid, Y/N. So stupid."

As you made your way back inside after a quick pep talk, you didn't fail to notice the dirty looks your teammates are now giving you and a lack of Alessia and Ella. You knew you had to sit back down as not just your table was looking at you and the drama you've just created.

The break until the world cup was lonely, but you were used to it. The added gut wrenching memory of making Alessia cry didn't help at all with your mental state.

You were called up by your national team to join them for the world cup, accepting the offer. You couldn't live like you had for a whole summer, wanting to keep football and only football on your mind. No distractions.

That aim didn't go to plan, not when you found out that England were who you were going to be playing in the round of 16.

You caught her eye when you all lined up in the tunnel, giving her a tight lipped smile but she just turned away, expressionless. You shouldn't have been so surprised by the hostility she inflicted, bowing your head and nodding to yourself.

This was going to be a long match.

You knew the logistics, you as a defender and her as a striker, you were going to be seeing each other a lot on the pitch. You were given the task to mark her as you knew her best. According to your head coach.

Both sides were equal in play, meaning you saw Alessia just as much as their defenders saw your strikers. You managed to stop her runs every time, hearing a huff fall from

her mouth as she ran back.

Her chances got more successful as the game went on, meaning you had to become more clever. It wasn't your fault.

When you stole the ball off her for the god knows time, you found no reaction as you passed the ball forwards. You had looked to the side to find her on the floor, grabbing what looked to be her knee.

You stood still as you saw her bury her face in the grass, only snapping back when some of her teammates surround her, pushing you out the way.

You may have just ruined the rest of her world cup and even season, the scene of her being lifted up and walking off with no weight on her leg made you feel sick.

"Come on, it's not your fault." Your teams goalie rubbed your arm as she came out of her box to take you back to your position.

You caught Ella's eye as you got to your spot and it made you feel even more guilty.

Your performance after that was terrible, tripping over your feet and conceding free kicks, you were bound to be substituted at one point, that being after England scored.

You sat on the bench anxiously, your leg bouncing up and down whilst biting your nails. You just wanted this to end already.

When the final whistle blew, you didn't know what to do. You had no idea where Alessia was and you had nobody to ask that would definitely give you the answer, you were stuck. Besides, maybe she didn't even want you there.

Mary had come up to you to shake your hand in remorse. "If it will make you feel better, Alessia's is in the medical room still."

Your eyes grew wide as you looked up from your hands to meet Mary's sweet face, thanking her before hurrying into the tunnel.

You were hesitant to enter the small room, pacing in front of it as you tried to come up with what you were going to say. Your pace was cut short when the door opened, meeting a surprised England physio.

"Erm... hi. Is Alessia still in there?" You asked while trying to get a look through the gap beside them.

"Yeah, she's still in there. She's not talking though." They stepped out holding the door open for you still, revealing yourself to Alessia's condition.

You thanked them as you took the door from them, closing it gently behind you as no one else but her was there.

"Hey." Your voice came out weak as you wrangled your hands together, staring at her back as she faced the other way propped up on the bed.

"Less, i am so sorry. I didn't mean to..." You were embarrassed with how much your voice was trembling, inching your way closer to the bed.

She turned around to face you, spotting your eyes glossing up and reaching her hand out for you.

"Please, just take my hand."

You did so promptly, striding closer towards her until she rested your hands in her lap. Your lip began to tremble as you noticed her knee all bandaged up, Alessia tucking your baby hairs away from your face.

"I broke my promise." A few tears came rushing down your cheeks, you've never accepted anyone to see you so weak before. The unfamiliar look made you notice Alessia was tearing up too.

"What promise?" Alessia whispered as she rubbed your arm up and down, her head ducking towards your gaze.

"To protect you… and i hurt you.” You sobbed as you let it all go, every pent up emotion and feeling withdrawing from you.

“Y/N… you didn’t hurt me, it was a non-contact injury.” Alessia tried to confide with you as tears of her own were pouring down her face, hands moving to tightly grip your waist for a hug.

“Still, i caused it… like i’ve caused everything, everything wrong between us and i regret it, i regret it so much.” The sobs were uncontrollable now, your body trembling. You notice Alessia shuffle over to guide you to sit down, laying your head in her neck as she held you tight.

“I am so so sorry.” You repeated the same sentence over into her neck, body slumped into hers unable to hold yourself up properly.

“Love, it’s not your fault.” You felt her lips against your head, laying her head against yours.

“I love you. I really do.” You confessed finally, sitting up straight away and looking deep into her eyes. “I know i’ve done too much to hurt you and i know you may never want to be with me ever because of how shit a person i am, you may never forgive me for what i’ve done and i’m okay with that. I hurt you and you can hurt me, i’ll be okay. I want you to be happy less, please.” You rambled on fiddling with her shorts, unable to hold eye contact in fear of rejection coming your way.

“Shut up Y/N, do you know how much i’ve wanted to here that? I don’t care if your broken, what i do care about is that there’s still love inside you and i know there is. Even if you’ve not shown it, i’ve felt it.” Alessia brought your head up with her hands to meet her eyes, blue meeting brown. You both shared a look of love, broken and ready to be restored.

“We’ll take it as slow as possible if that’s what you want, i just want to love you. Let me love you, Y/N.”

#alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #engwnt x reader #this took me ages #give it love xx #angst #kinda fluff #wlw #woso oneshot #ella toone #mary earps #manutdwomen

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

three's a crowd, part seven

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au.

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst.

word count: 3k

a/n: couple more chapters to go, and then we're finito. Love hearing your thoughts, as always, don't be afraid to hit that ask box!

The rest of the week passes by in a blur.

You cry yourself to sleep the first night.

Lay wide awake for the second.

Memories flash by like nightmares. Emma and her sweet smile, walking you home that first night. Emma and her blue eyes, sparkling pretty as she’d kissed you.

Her lips. Soft, so so addictive.

Her voice, quiet. Shy.

The feel of her under you, on top of you, near you.

The look in her eyes when she’d realized you’d betrayed her.

The sneer in her voice as she all but called you a whore to your face.

The heavy finality in her voice as she’d told you she was done with you.

It’s too much. You feel it all too much.

Anger, at yourself. Hatred, towards yourself.

Grief, loss, hurt, despair. Everything.

So you lock yourself away like a hermit. Your apartment is your shell. You don’t have to film, thank god, so you don’t leave. Spend hours toiling in bed, staring at the ceiling. Taking long, hot showers. So hot the water scalds your skin.

It feels good to hurt.

It feels cathartic, like the physical pain will take you away from the grief swirling in your chest, if only for a moment.

Georgie calls but you don’t answer. Joy calls but you hit decline. Hunter calls and you laugh.

By the third day, people are knocking at your door, shouting at you to come out.

Not Emma, not Johnna and not Jenna.

But everyone else.

You don’t care. Let them stand out in the hall shouting.

You just want to leave this set and these people. You want to never see any of them again.

Maybe Georgie. Definitely Georgie.

But everybody else? You’ll pass.

Definitely not Emma. Definitely not Johnna.

It hurts to think about Jenna so you don’t. Let yourself stew in your own self-hatred instead.

Maybe you’ll become a painter, you muse, laying in your bathtub, fully clothed, the fourth night. Tortured artist sounded like a fun gig, you were already half-way there. You’d buy a house in the middle of nowhere and never look at any girl twice again. It was better that way.

It would hurt less.

You let yourself imagine for a moment. And then the buzz of your phone jolts you back to reality.

You almost hit decline straight away. No doubt it’s Georgie again, despite your explicit message you didn’t want to talk.

Your fingers hover over the phone as you read the caller name. Your heart seizes. Anxiety washes through your body.

It’s Jenna.

She hadn’t called, not yet. Not texts, no voicemails.

You don’t even know if she knows. But she must, why else would she call you?

You bite your lip, then accept the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Her voice is low. She sounds a little surprised, like she didn’t expect you to answer. You feel yourself start to sweat, grip the edges of the tub, “I’d ask how you are but-”

“You know then.” You say.

She pauses.

“Georgie told me.”

That two-faced little weasel.

“-Don’t be mad at him,” She says, hurriedly, as if she can read your mind, “He’s really worried about you, he says you won’t answer your phone. It’s the only reason he told me.”

You bite your lip, vitriol at him softening.

“Does everybody know then?” You ask, though you already know the answer.

The slew of missed calls and cast members trying bang down your door tells you the answer.

“They’re worried about you,” Jenna says, “We’re all worried about you.”

“Even her?” You say after a long moment.

Jenna pauses.

“Especially her.”

“She hasn’t even bothered to call,” You bite back.

Jenna says, “She’s afraid that if she calls you-“

“I’ll what?” you ask, “Throw myself off the balcony or something?”

Jenna pauses.

“She just doesn’t want to upset you anymore”

You pause, mind reeling, for Jenna to know this she’d have to have spoken to Emma. There’s a thought, niggling deep in your stomach. It gnaws, you want answers.

“What did you say to her?” You ask, brows furrowed, “When we came around on Saturday. She was fine and then you spoke to her.”

Jenna pauses.

“I don’t…” She trails off.

“Did you ask her to break up with me?” You ask, desperately. You want to understand. You need to understand.

“No,” Is all she says.

She doesn’t bother to elaborate. It makes you furious. A tired kind of furious. A silent kind of furious. The taste in your mouth is sour and you don’t want to talk to her anymore.

Not if she won’t be honest with you.

“Well, this has been fun,” You say, “Good chat. Thanks for checking in or whatever-“

“YN-“ Jenna says, voice sharp. She wants to say something, you can tell by her tone.

You wait a moment.

But she doesn’t speak. The only sound is the hum of your refrigerator and her sharp intake of breath.

“Goodbye, Jenna.” You say, and hang up the phone.

On the fifth day, Georgie breaks the door down.

Literally.

“Sorry,” He says, a little out of breath as you stare at him from your spot on the sofa, “Just needed to check you were still alive.”

He hugs you. Tight. So tight you find it hard to breathe.

Then, he settles in beside you. Close, like he’s scared you’ll run away.

“We’ve missed you on set,” He says.

You cross your arms, “I wasn’t on the call sheet,” You say, “It’s my week off.”

Georgie hums.

“You could have answered your phone,” He says, “Everyone’s worried.”

“So I’ve heard.” You grumble. You sink back into the sofa, “What about Johnna? I bet she’s doing somersaults.”

“Everyone.” He insists. He squeezes your hand, “It’s a shitty, complicated situation, but no one wants you to not be okay. Even Johnna.”

You hum.

And don’t believe him.

You don’t know what Johnna knows about your relationship with Emma, but it isn’t hard to imagine she’s thrilled with the lack of competition. Emma all to herself.

Is Emma with her now? Is Johnna holding her while she cries, soothing her upset with kisses? Kisses that should have been yours. Or maybe Emma’s not upset at all. Maybe she’s perfectly happy, fucking Johnna the way she used to fuck you.

You imagine them entwined, Emma kissing her so softly.

You sink back into the sofa, a wave of sickness flooding through you.

Georgie cuts into your internal crisis with a squeeze of your shoulder.

“Jenna told me she called you yesterday,” Georgie says, voice quiet, “She said you weren’t doing good.”

“So you decided to break my door?” You ask, gesturing madly to the wreck on the floor.

“It’ll teach you to answer your phone,” Georgie says with a shrug, “So how are you doing? Really?”

“Peachy.” You mumble.

Georgie raises an eyebrow.

“You know you’re shooting Friday, right?” He asks, “I checked. And we’ll all be there.”

You’d forgotten about that. The thought of walking on set with everybody knowing exactly what’s happened makes you want to sink into the sofa and never come out.

Georgie rubs your back.

“Everyone’s worried,” He repeats, “And we’re all here for you. You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

But you are nervous.

You’re nervous when you go to sleep that night.

You’re nervous the next day, and the day after.

And when Friday rolls around, you’re so anxious you’re considering quitting the production all together.

Being sued for breach of contract sounds a lot better than having to look Emma in the eye and pretend to be her love interest for eight hours.

Emma isn’t there when you finally muster the strength to show up.

You’re early - it’s all crew members and extras. And Joy - who you forgot has the habit of showing up thirty minutes early for everything.

She hasn’t really spoken much to you, since the entire blow-out with Jenna and Emma went down.

It’s understandable - you hate you too, why wouldn’t everyone else?

But she doesn’t look like she hates you when she approaches.

Her look is softer. Reserved. Pitying.

You’d prefer the hatred.

“Emma told us about everything,” She says. She rubs your arm, “I hope you’re doing okay. Everyone’s been worried about you.”

“So I keep hearing,” You mumble.

She pauses. Surveys you.

“I know you don’t care what I think,” She says, voice a little hesitant, “And you shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. But your heart wasn’t in it. We could all tell.”

You’re right, it’s not your business, you want to snap back.

You refrain. This day is going to be hard enough and the last thing you need is more enemies on this set.

“Sure,” You offer, a little lame. Joy squeezes your arm.

The rest of the cast filter in one by one.

Hunter hugs you. Georgie brings you a coffee and sits with you while the crew set up.

He mumbles something, standing up to excuse himself after a while. You’re confused - until you see Jenna approaching.

Damn you, Georgie, you curse internally.

He hovers by the craft services table, peering back at you over his shoulder.

You’d pull the finger at him if Jenna wasn’t staring down at you, body language tight. Hesitant. Like she’s not sure if she should be talking to you.

You look up at her, watch the way she plays with her fingers.

“How are you?” She asks. She’s worried. You can tell by the way her eyes are flitting between yours.

“Fine.” You say, “Ready to shoot.”

Jenna stares for a moment. Then lowers her voice.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jenna says, voice soft, “I care about you, still. If you’re not doing well-”

“What did you say to Emma?” You ask, unable to keep it in any longer, “On the balcony? I know you said you didn’t ask her to break up with me but you must have said something for her to do it.”

She blinks. Her shoulders tense.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” Is all she offers, “I didn’t ask her to break up with you, I already told you-“

“But what did you say?” You ask, voice a little desperate. You need to know. It’s eating you alive. Emma had been fine. Happy, even. Soft, almost romantic with you.

And then one conversation and she’d frozen over.

“Nothing bad.” She repeats, her voice soft.

She isn’t going to tell you, that much is clear. It pisses you off in a way that is maybe a little unfair. She doesn’t owe you anything, sure. Their conversation was private.

But it was clearly about you.

You look down at your phone, put your headphones back in.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to keep checking,” You say. There’s a bite in your voice that makes her flinch, “Let’s not make this any more awkward than it already is.”

Emma arrives a little later.

You’re able to avoid her for most of the morning. Ducking out to the bathroom when it’s not your time to shoot. Clinging to Georgie like a shield whenever she gets a little too close.

This afternoon, you’ll have to shoot with her. You’ve been dreading it all day.

Your scenes with her are supposed to be romantic. But you can’t even look at her without your chest seizing and your palms getting sweaty.

Like the world is playing some sort of sick joke on you. Karma, perhaps.

“Just talk to her and get it over with.” Georgie tells you all day, but you don’t listen.

You let it fester. This awkward, uncomfortable feeling that rots in you.

In the end, it’s her who approaches first.

You’re sitting out on the lawn by yourself, earphones in. Trying to drown your sorrows in angsty 80s music with your eyes closed.

The world shut off.

And then you feel her squeeze in next to you.

You open your eyes, heartbeat quickening. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches as you tug out your earphones, mouth dry.

“Hey,” She says, settling into the spot beside you, “How are you?”

The audacity of the question almost makes you laugh.

“How do you think I am?” You say. It comes out grouchier than you intended. You curl your arms around your knees, “I’m sad.”

She hums.

Leans back into her hands. She looks out into the distance, to where a crew member is wheeling a tub of fake blood onto set. Another person lifts a giant gargoyle onto a crane. An extra with a fake axe through their head passes by.

Set is bizarre, and somehow it fits your depressive mood.

“You’re not sad because I broke up with you,” Emma says, peering over at you. She lifts a hand to her eye to block out the sun.

You stare.

“Yes, I am.”

She shakes her head.

“You’ve been sad for a while. And it doesn’t have much to do with me.”

It’s coming, you can feel it. The “J” word. You hug your knees, hoping if you look too distraught, she’ll fly past it.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re sad because you’re not with Jenna.”

You let out a sharp intake of breath. You can’t even think about Jenna right now. You don’t want to think about her. About what could have been.

“We would have been so in love,” She’d murmured, ghost of a smile on her lips.

It makes you ache.

You'd given it all away to someone who didn't even want you anymore.

Karma, sings out that little voice in your head, again.

You swallow.

“We don’t have to talk about her.” You say, sitting up properly. You fiddle with the cord of your earphones. You want this conversation to be over.

“It’s fine, YN.” Emma says, “I’m not mad anymore. Or upset. Or jealous.”

She nudges your arm, glint of a smile on her lips.

“Not like before.”

“Because you don’t want me anymore?” You say, eyebrows furrowed.

She looks away.

“I did want you, you know that.”

“But not anymore?” You press.

She’s quiet for a moment.

“I want someone who wants me back,” She says, simply, “Someone who isn’t confused. Someone who doesn’t like someone else.”

“-Someone like Johnna.” You say, voice flat.

She shoots you a pained smile.

“Don’t be jealous.” She says, “You don’t want me, not really. You liked being liked, that’s all.”

It makes you stare.

“That’s not true,” You say, sitting up, “I did like you, Emma. I do like you. I just-“

“Liked her more.” Emma says, after a moment. Her gaze is pensive, “It’s okay, you can say it.”

You drop down onto your back. Stare up at the sky.

“You should tell her.”

“I should tell her?” You ask, a little dubious.

“How much you like her.” Emma says.

The words are strange, coming from her lips. You wait a bit for the punchline. But it never comes. She’s calm. At peace. Not a hint of jealousy in her tone.

“Too much has happened,” Is what you say after a careful moment, “If it was meant to be- it wouldn’t have been so messy.”

Emma purses her lips.

“It’s messy because I made it messy,” She says, quietly.

“I made it messy.” You correct her, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except I pursued you knowing Jenna liked you.” Emma says, biting her lip, “Knowing you liked her back. I got involved because - I don’t know. I liked you so much and I thought- I don’t know what I thought.”

You lean back. Try to gauge her face. She doesn’t look sad, not like you. She’s pensieve. Reflective.

“Jenna’s useless at this kind of thing. I knew she’d never tell you and I used that to take you for myself.” Emma admits, “I thought she’d get over you. I thought it was a crush. If I had known-“

She trails off. Sits back on her hands.

“If you had known what?”

“You should talk to Jenna,” Emma just says, staring down at her fingers, “You should tell her how you feel about her.”

“She knows.” Is all you say.

Emma leans back.

“Does she?”

Her gaze is so piercing you have to look away.

“Why are you trying to set us up anyway?” You ask, “Aren’t you supposed to hate us or something?”

Emma hums.

“I don’t hate you,” She says, “And I don’t hate her. I was angry at her for so long. But maybe she should be angry with me too. Maybe you both should.”

You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything.

It’s too much. You want to go back to your hermit cave-apartment and drink yourself to sleep. These emotions you’re having, you don’t want them anymore.

Emma curls her fingers around a strand of grass. Plucks it out of the ground, absent-mindedly. She lets out a long sigh.

“I thought I could get between you,” She says voice heavy, “I thought I could redirect you to me. But that isn’t how it works, I know that now. When two stars collide everything around it turns to dust.”

She has a penchant for the dramatic. But you don’t bother to correct her. There’s something else on your mind.

“What did Jenna say to you on the balcony?” You ask, eyes flitting between hers.

She’s being so open. So candid. An Emma you almost forgot existed. If there is ever a time to get it out of her, it’s right now.

She purses her lips and looks away.

Your heart sinks as you realize she’s not going to give you the answers you so desperately need.

“You should ask her.”

“I already did.” You say, aggravated, “She won’t tell me.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready,” Emma says, simply. She brushes the grass off her jeans as she sits up. She holds out a hand for you.

“Come on. I think shooting is about to start.”

You stare at her open palm. Look up at her.

She isn’t angry, not sad or hurt. She’s your Emma again, sweet, kind, loyal. She’s the Emma you could have had, before you ruined it all.

“I’m really sorry, Emma,” You say, voice quiet, “For everything.”

She smiles at you, curls her hand around yours.

“Me too.”

Next part

#three's a crowd #jenna ortega #emma myers #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega x yn #emma myers x yn #jenna ortega x reader #emma myers x reader #wednesday

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saint-siren · 7 months

Text

A World For Her Alone | Suffer Does The Wolf

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy loss, infidelity, abuse, suicide, childbirth, vomiting, dubcon, nothing good happens

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Claude will never be able to save you but that doesn't mean he can stop trying.

He woke with a start, looking about the room as if the blood and carnage could follow him. But all he could see was his familiar dreary bedroom even though he could still feel the pain in his arm, even though he still felt disoriented from the carriage crash, even though he felt the phantom warmth of Diana in his arms. This life struck a stark contrast to the others. Before, Felix was the only one to ever kill him and for reasons clear as day. But who was this stranger in the woods?

The assailants of the forest were not ordinary criminals. They didn’t seem at all interested in what money or jewelry he and Diana had. They did not search the carriage, their eyes never even met the brooch on his cravat or the ruby necklace around Diana’s neck. Who were they? No, more importantly – who was the swordsman with unbridled joy in his expression as he cut his head off? Could they have been comrades of Felix’s, seeking retribution? He could have sworn something about the swordsman felt familiar, only he couldn’t figure out why exactly. He told himself that he’d have to be careful, he’d have to watch for them but it was half hearted. What was the point of saving his own life? If he could do anything in this life, he wanted to find a way to save you from himself.

So valiant it sounded to him but the reality of the matter never left him. He knew he likely wouldn’t be able to do either of those things anyway. There was no choice to begin with. His life was out of his hands. He’d been given over to darkness ages ago. There was nothing he could do to avoid becoming paralyzed in his own body. It had already been done. Sure as the sun would rise every morning, he would always be given over to a force greater than himself. This moment of control only existed as an illusion, it only existed so that he could be put back into his place.

He would never be able to save you. He would never be able to stop trying. He would watch you die again and again for so long that the lives would blur together and no longer be distinguishable. This, he was sure, was ordained by god. He had never been pious, he was always much too arrogant for it. Even now, he held to the last shred of it, the deluded belief in himself that helped him pretend there was a chance this time could end differently.

And so he began again. The moment he saw Diana again, he was overcome with grief and intrusive love that needled its way deep into his mind. He was stifled. He could finally breathe. He was regretful, he wanted to pull her into his arms and beg her forgiveness for letting her die. He wished she’d died before this meeting. Her life was so fragile. It was precious. It was a burden.

It seemed there was nowhere he could take refuge from Diana. She’d started going to the academy, her health was better this time. She was so happy to get the chance that she nearly floated to her first class and Claude’s heart stalled to see her so vibrant. But when the classes let out for lunch she was walking alone, the roses were taken from her cheeks, she looked somber, nervous. He could not help what came over him again, he went to her. Her big, ruby eyes looked up at him in surprise, wiping away all the shyness in them. “Lord Claude?”

“Just Claude. No titles. We’re to be family and family has no need for formalities.” Family. How could he say such things with a straight face? Never mind the fact that it wasn’t true in and of itself, not of your family and certainly not of his.

A pittance of a smile rose to Diana’s face. “Claude,” She tested out calling him only by his name and an inevitable thrill stung his heart. She must have felt it too, for her he could see the affection clouding her gaze.

“What’s wrong? You were looking troubled.”

“Well…” She hesitated and for some reason, this reminded him of you. It was like pulling teeth to get you to ever admit something was wrong and when you finally did, it was with your eyes to the floor in embarrassment. The reminder of you made his chest ache, it felt like the edge of Felix’s sword as it first broke his skin. But Diana spoke again and cut off all resemblance, obfuscated the pain of memory. “I underestimated how hard it is to go here, I don’t know anyone and I don’t have any classes with my sister. The work is hard, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.” Diana was not you. She never hesitated to make her feelings known. She had probably never been made to feel shameful of being human. A sudden and intense hate rose from within his truest self, though he didn’t know who it was meant for. Your parents who blatantly, egregiously favored Diana over you? Or Diana herself for…for simply being as she was? For making him feel this way?

Still, his love for her had fallen over him, smothered him. It seemed almost primordial, as if the love of her had always been and it was the Claude inside who was formed around it. It was more than inevitable, it was written into his very being. He was running desperately from something that was inside him all along. That would be until he was no more. This darkness lived before him, he was born to it. It wrapped itself around him and cradled him like a mother. It sung out in a honeyed voice, “there is nothing more for you than her.”

And so her pitiful troubles struck him deeply. “I’ll help you. If you’d like, we can sit together at lunch and go over your assignments.”

She brightened again and like a child who knew no modesty, she accepted without pretense at first. But then she remembered something Claude was certain both of them had wanted to ignore. “What about my sister? Will she mind?” She asked. He couldn’t keep himself from frowning at the mention of her. His greater self reviled the interruption in his break in reality. They usually had an unspoken agreement between them not to mention you but with eyes all around, it was impossible not to remember what they were. What other people must think when they see the two together.

“Of course not. She prefers to eat alone.” It wasn’t true, of course. You had always been pleased to spend time with him. In previous lives, he had simply avoided eating with you much of the time to the point where at lunch you did not even make a half hearted attempt. You knew what the answer was before the question left your lips and you simply left to eat alone, in some abandoned corner of the gardens. It was no matter. You could be left alone, you knew how to be alone. Diana needed someone. It couldn’t be you so it would be him. A sense of what was perhaps pride filled his chest. It felt righteous and gallant of him.

He swept her away to the dining hall, they walked so close their hands occasionally brushed against each other’s. People were looking at the two and he could hear them whisper when they walked by. He’d always hated being around other nobles, always simpering and gossiping. Although he knew that even before this all began, he had never been excellent at being human, he was certain that his fellow aristocrats were even worse at it than he was. Everything was up for grabs, fodder for the entertainment of others, everything from an alleged affair to murder. It was all very detached and uncharitable as if they were only speaking of nebulous people whose lives had long since become nothing more than stories. He felt the humiliation that exacerbated the dehumanization deep inside but what darkness surrounded him warmed at Diana’s company. It thought of nothing but her. He could be suddenly plunged into a circle of hell as payment for his many wasted lives and he’d only think to wonder if Diana had judged him as a good man; if wherever she was, she went to bed believing he’d go on to a sweeter afterlife.

His shoulder brushed against another student’s in the hall, a flash of black hair passed him by and sent a chill down his spine but he kept walking his fated path. He could not turn his head to see if he’d met his killer again but for what it was worth, he doubted finding him would have ever been so easy. As he entered the dining hall and scoped out a secluded table, it occurred to him to wonder how he would die this time around. Maybe this time, if she died before you did…

Diana opened her mouth and it became harder to hold onto that thought, it seemed to slip through his fingers. The more they spoke, the quieter his voice became. It was so eerie to speak lightly of schoolwork with a girl he’d seen murdered twice over. He’d seen her sullied by blood, dirt and terror. Now she was safe next to him and everything seemed unreal. There was the feeling of being pushed aside, out of his own body. He was losing himself, ebbing out of the wound in his chest with no way back inside.

He felt himself warm with the simple joy of having her near. He felt his expression lift from its usual seriousness. “I think you can catch up to your classmates but you’ll have to put in some effort.”

“Of course. Though, I really wouldn’t know where to start.” Diana’s brow furrowed, littered around the table were reading lists, syllabuses and assignments due the following week.

“If you want…” He sacrificed the last of his dignity failing to stop himself from finishing that sentence. “I could help you with everything. I could study with you.”

A hope blossomed in Diana’s eyes that he had not seen since the tea party where they’d made a promise. “Really?” Her voice was so tentative, so sweet that it actually hurt him to think of denying her.

“Yes. I can make time after classes end. We can start today, if you like.” On days where he was not meeting with you, he typically trained for several hours after getting home from the academy, spent a few more hours working on whatever tasks for the marquisate were delegated to him which left him with a slim space to simply relax. Doing this could only make that space smaller. He couldn’t remember a time since he was first able to hold a sword that he wasn’t tired, all of him ached for rest, he always had. He had been waiting to truly rest since he was ten. But what did any of that matter? He had always been dutiful and this was the one task which would bring him joy simply in and of itself.

When lunch was over, Claude walked her out of the dining hall, his hand on the small of her back to gently navigate her through the swarm of students leaving. Diana clung to his arm, squeezing closer their bodies closer together to let someone by. However, neither of them let go even when they had passed the crowd. It couldn’t be helped, it couldn’t be helped. Was that what he’d say at the end of his life this time? It could not be helped, he loved her dearly and that was a force in and of itself that could not be denied.

It was Diana who had spotted you, returning from the garden. Her cheeks had turned bright red. She quickly separated herself from him, which Claude might have laughed at if his body were his own. So embarrassed to be caught touching her future brother-in-law and yet brazen enough to be doing it at the school she also attended of all places. Such a stupid girl she was, he had built a hatred of her where before there had been none. Before, he had not even considered her existence. He only ever met her out of formality but it would have been just as well if he never did. Because his love for her was so intense, it could only be met with the strongest hatred he could muster out of dregs of what he was. All of his grief turned to hatred for her and for himself. The love of her had made him sick, made him mad, brought him hell in his own home. Why wasn’t she dead? Why was she healthy? Why wasn’t she dying quietly in her bed? Why could she not have died before they ever got to meet at that stupid tea party?

“Your next class is this way too, right? Should we go together?” Diana asked, nervously. Your face became a mask at that. He scrutinized you, the detached disdain he had for you was waiting to fall onto him with one word from you. He’d not have any of the harassment you brought on other ladies directed toward Diana simply for having lunch with him.

But you smiled, a false smile that kept the darkness at bay. “Of course.” He wondered if Diana even knew how affected your voiced sounded in that moment, was she enough of a sister to you to know when you were putting yourself aside for her?

“I hope to see you again soon, Lady Diana,” He heard himself say, not even bothering to address you. He turned and left for his next class. “Good,” A voice from the dark. “No harm should come to her, not even by the hands of her elder sister.”

The days were short because he spent so much time with Diana. He didn’t know what it was about this life, but he could swear he spent more time with her in this one than he ever had before. It felt sick and rapturous, it was like the cloying, syrupy medicine the doctor had given him when he was injured in training once. He felt open, his very being had softened to the world itself because of Diana. He was rotting inside and his very being had begun to show his dread upon waking because of Diana. Even if he couldn’t express it outwardly, even the joy couldn’t obscure the steady drip of misery he sustained himself on. In a strange way, he was relieved for it. It reminded him that she had not always been in his heart. His love for you refused to be forgotten and as a result, the person he was never submitted to the greater self. This pain was visceral, he needed it like water.

He surprised himself when he took you on an outing to the botanical gardens. It was just obligatory, because Diana had thought to pull from him slightly so that he could tend to you like he should have been doing. It was a tentative offering, it was “I know that I betray my sister daily but do you not see me trying to resist?” It was pathetic. Even so, his greater self had not objected the thought of spending time with you, in this life you were far more tolerable. You spoke not a word of complaint against him when he spent hours with your sister at a time, behind his back you had even tried to cover them against rumor after rumor when before you would have made a scene. You could have moped in unearned despair and jealousy over Diana, you could have lashed out at her for eating lunch with him like you would have done before but instead you allowed Diana to have what she deserved in graceful apathy. You finally seemed to know how to behave.

He tried to enjoy the date as much as he could but it was too sweet to believe, your apathetic expression had even cracked a bit to reveal just a sliver of happiness. It was a tender moment he did not deserve. And he was painfully aware of that every moment, he had no tears but he might have cried at how unsure your happiness was. Happiness from something so small as him doing exactly as he should, taking you out to spend time at a place you enjoy. If he could have freed his body just in that moment, to apologize, to tell you how he really felt, it would have been worth dying right where he stood. He knew the moment would not last. He would live to hurt you again.

On your wedding day, the weather was appropriately miserable. Hope had deserted him, it had vanished in both sides of himself. The mirage of an oasis that had kept him company in the barren wilds had deserted him, leaving him somehow worse off, alone with the reality of his dire situation. When he first set eyes on you in white, you seemed almost unearthly. A beautiful apparition. He had seen you in your wedding dress so many times, he knew it was odd to look at you as though for the first time but he couldn’t help it. You, right then in the glow of candlelight looking holy, were the loveliest sight in all of his many lives. He could not hold back the thought that he would live to destroy this moment for the both of you.

He heard himself say words rehearsed to the point of blind recitation. He hated the words, the greater self defied them by conjuring the image of Diana on the terrance after dark, bathed in moonlight. “I swear in the name of my good house, to love and honor you for as long as you shall live. Never will you be disgraced by any action or inaction of mine.” He doubted he could have said the words with any more sincerity if he had his own voice anyway. Perhaps it was just as well that it wasn’t him saying the words, he could never have managed to hold his composure as he looked into your eyes knowing that you could remember looking into his as he grasped your throat.

After the ceremony, when the guests were free to roam around drinking expensive wine and gossiping, he caught a glimpse of Diana over your shoulder and was yet again besotted as if the first time. He tried to focus his eyes on you but it was no use. She was positively shining in the scarce silver light that passed between clouds. Somehow the fact that she had managed to smile and radiate such warmth on such a day that must have been devastating to her made her all the more lovable. A pity unfurled in his heart that felt the same as his love. Oh, Diana. He had not even considered how hard this day would be for her, he was too self absorbed. She was made to watch the man she loved give his promise to another at a ceremony that symbolized the binding of their lives and fates together. She could not dwell in dreams of him anymore without being reminded, it would only be harder when children were born to them. Still, she shone brightly, exuberant in her love of both of you.

He forgot himself. “So beautiful…” He murmured. Words that drew the vague horror inside him from its pathetic stillness back to its desperate lashing. He saw you react immediately, you had heard him. He saw your face take on the sweetest look, as if so happy and surprised that your now husband should think of you as beautiful. He saw your face fall when you looked behind you and realized who the words were really for. “Stranger, if you must come for my life…” He thought, “Come now.”

Obligation to the crown soon took him away from home for a while. He couldn’t have left sooner. This time, all his letters were Diana. Not so much as a rushed, perfunctorily done letter for you. He could leave you to care for the marquisate, you could hold your own. He saw no reason to burden himself on top of everything else. But Diana sent her perfumed letter and he sent his replies. That much was different, it was what he needed to get through such tedious and draining work. They were all he thought of, all he wanted for. Diana wrote more frequently when he had mentioned in one of his replies that he read them over and over to fall asleep. His superior laughed when he called Claude’s name each time as he distributed letters among the knights, ribbing him about being newlywed. He thought the letters were from the new marchioness and how could he correct him?

Diana’s letters grew increasingly intimate, she expressed such a longing for him that he dreamed of sneaking away in the night even though such an act was treasonous. “Claude, I don’t know what there is to do without you. I thought it would be good not to see you for a while after the wedding, some time to cool off and accept things as they are. But I haven’t, I don’t think I can. I’ve been treating the love I have for you as though it’s a fever to break but no matter what I do, I cannot let go.” Those were the words that disintegrated whatever ease her letters had injected into his life away from home. He hated it, every moment spent here. He needed to see her again so much that he was sure it would show in everything he did. He was sure that you’d only have to look at him to know what he was struggling to hide.

Throughout the next two years, his absence in the manor was even more pronounced than in lives past. Because when he returned from his duties, he went to Diana’s side. He would always remember the cloying scent of Diana’s room. Even when he bathed upon returning home, he swore he could still smell it lingering on his skin. Her touch could not be forgotten.

He had not realized the depth of his desire for her until he set eyes on her again. Until he saw her in the flesh. A carnal and intrusive desire hung over his head precariously. She’d been in her nightgown this time, fresh from sleep, eyes soft and dreamy. It was morning, she was slowly getting ready and she’d not expected his visit but he could not help himself, it was a wonder he had even lasted the night. In the white of the morning sun shining through the cover of clouds, he could see the outline of her body plainly. His voice dried up in his throat. Desire, until then distinct, waiting to be claimed, finally reached over him and sealed his fate.

It is a strange thing for the body to yearn for things the mind opposes. When he reached for Diana, he felt a dread so strong that it became him. He understood what was meant to happen and he fought against his own body desperately, trying to assume control over it. But no amount of exertion ever made a difference, he was made to feel Diana’s body beneath his hands, her lips against his. No matter what he wanted, the greater force moved his body to its own desires. Even when inside, he was screaming at the scene unfolding before his eyes with his own body as its star.

His body was not his own but even so, he had to feel how it moved, what pleasure unfurled within him as his bare skin lay against Diana’s. It was a sick feeling of humiliation, of intrusion that juxtaposed the arousal which heated his body. His whims reduced to nothing in the face of her bare body. The inevitability of this act, it was a monumentally difficult thing for him to accept but what else could he do? Could he lay paralyzed and aware in his own body as he could only watch what was being done? No, the anguish of that would kill as surely as the sword that felled his head. Instead, he seemed to leave his body. Instead he let go of his body, he allowed it to take all it pleased as he visited elsewhere. He seemed to drift upwards toward the ceiling where he watched the act transpire more objectively. From that view, he could imagine it was not him who was driving himself into a moaning, gasping Diana, it was some other man. Yes, it must be, for Claude was not in that body, he was adrift.

When returned, he was holding her against his sweaty body beneath the sheets. Her scent clung to his skin. “I love you, Claude. I was never prepared to resist,” she said. She was trembling slightly as the heat of desire passed and left them only with the gravity of what they had done. “But we cannot allow this to happen again.” He held her closer against his chest and nodded numbly. He knew he would come to her again. This thing, it stole even dignity from him, even love.

Claude and Diana laid together again and again. And again and again. Despite their promises the first few times that it’d never happen again, that they couldn’t, shouldn’t, musn’t. It was always him who set aside these promises first, seducing her instead, he’d said on one occasion with his lips against her neck, “I don’t love her, I can’t. You are the first and last woman I will ever love. The moment you and I first met, we both knew we weren’t just going to be in-laws. Haven’t we done enough pretending?” Her will melted under her desire. His was buried under another’s.

Then came the day Diana revealed herself to be pregnant. He thought himself to be dead inside but the moment those uncertain words left her lips, he found that he still had hope enough to destroy. He was in agony. A child between he and Diana when he knew you had never even gotten to name your own? It was a pain that had followed you into your previous life, searching for a child you’d never hold again. How could he be fit to have a child like this when he had abandoned the one born of his failure? Now, it seemed, he had a child of his shame too. Would he love this child of Diana where he’d been unable to love yours? It was unfair, he knew and he could do nothing, nothing at all to erase it.

He knew that in his misfortune, this child would be born. He would hear himself reveal it to you and watch you crack apart as you lived between haunted memory of your daughter whose name remained elusive because of him and the child of Diana who would surely be loved. As its mother was.

Diana begged him not to reveal anything until later on, she was uncertain in her ability to carry a child to term and if she could not, what would the reveal be worth? Nothing but more pain to gather up around hers. He was bound to the secret until she was rather far along and sure that she would give birth. Even your parents knew before you did, they kept her secret and shielded her from rumors as much as they could. Their loyalties always belonged to Diana but this was egregious. They refused to even condemn their son-in-law for having an affair with his wife’s sister. Instead, they only shrewdly suggested that he take responsibility by annulling his marriage to you and take Diana as his wife since, of course, she was the one with his child.

The greater force had not decided whether he would or would not, for even though he loved Diana, he had married you for a reason. You were the one capable of what the marquisate required. His innermost self could only recoil, seeking escape from the whole situation even as he lived in it. Desperately seeking to dissociate from the pain he would live to cause. He hid deep within worthless flesh inside the cold corner of his mind which belonged to him in the same way a cell belonged to the prisoner who lived and died in it.

But it did not save him.

When Diana was almost eight months along, he brought her to the manor. She would have it done no sooner. She was ill from the strain of carrying their child in her womb and ill from the stress of the secret, of the inevitable fallout. Her bump was quite small even now, her condition could be made slightly more obscure with the right cut of dress and a coat. Her skin was pale and her hand trembled in his as they reached the salon where you were having tea. He let go of her when you looked up at them and approached you warily, slowly.

“It isn’t Diana’s fault.” The nonsensical words came out of his lips instantly, above reason, he needed to protect Diana as he always had.

You, with your flat, lifeless eyes seemed to stiffen with anticipation of his next words. “Is there something wrong?” You asked. Oh, his heart broke to hear the concern in your voice, the eagerness to help him.

“Diana is pregnant.” He would rather have died right there than witness what those words would do to you but there was no other will than that of his greater self.

A teapot fell from your hands onto the floor, making a loud clang which Diana flinched at. “Who’s the father?”

With bile in his throat he answered. “I am.”

These words seem to break you, it cracked open the mask you hid your contempt and grief behind. It revealed a frail woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and whose lips trembled as she tried to speak. You lost what little held you together. All you could ask was “Why?”

He wanted to answer with. “Because I was devoured by this thing which impersonates me.” But instead he said “Because I love her,” shameless as an arrogant little prince. The thoughts flooded in, he was taking control over his own life, he was proud of himself for standing up for what he wanted. It was ridiculous, almost to the point of hilarity. Who was he standing up to? A fragile woman who looked as though she were at the verge of losing her mind? His wife who asked so little of him?

Your eyes glazed over and there was no doubt in his mind that you were remembering your daughter. You screamed and he thought of your daughter, unwilling to be soothed after losing her mother. You fell onto the ground, eyes on the floor as if it could open up and reveal to you what had already been lost.

“I’m sorry, big sister.” Diana mumbled and he felt sick to his stomach as his attention turned to her, leading her to the couch to sit. Covering her ears as if this wasn’t her sorrow to witness, she should have had to hear her sister’s screams. She should have to bear witness to what she had done to her own flesh and blood. He had covered her ears as if the noise were only an inconvenience to Diana rather than the cacophonous song of her doing.

Your nails dug into your skin so hard there was blood gathering beneath them. Your screams came like waves, faltering here and there between whimpers and sobs but returning. “Stay here, I’ll take her upstairs,” He said to Diana, calmly, dissonant as if this had nothing to do with either of them. As if he shouldn’t be on the floor begging her forgiveness, telling her that he’d met their daughter and he could never acknowledge another child. The child in Diana’s womb would be born to the darkness that moved him.

He brought you to your bedroom, his uncaring touch stilling you, anchoring you to the dreadful reality he had created. He left you there in your room even as your screams reached out to him through the door, to tend the mother of his child in this life. Diana had her face in her hands when he returned, he sat down next to her and put his arm around her, bringing her softly weeping face to his chest. He stayed there until she calmed. They slept in his room together, she wouldn’t suffer being alone in such a situation. His hands warming her skin, his sweet words of false assurance in her ear allowed her to fall sleep. He stayed awake, watching her with all of a husband’s concern for his wife. Everything Diana had belonged to you, was misappropriated for the wrong woman. Did she know that? If she did, would she care? Not the kind of care that would make her shed a few tears and words of regret, the kind that would eat her alive as it had done him. He doubted it.

She clung to him in sleep as if she would fall apart without her comfort, while having left another woman broken.

Come morning, Diana wanted to take a tray of breakfast from the kitchen up to your room. She already navigated the manor as if she were its mistress. Perhaps subconsciously, she felt she would be. Maybe she even thought that was the way things had to be. Was she already justifying it to herself? She walked with her hand protectively on her belly as if wanting to shield her child from her own wrongdoing. He wanted to tell her it was too late for that.

When the two reached your door, Diana knocked. “Sister?” She called, hesitantly. “Are you awake?’ When no answer came, she simply opened the door and called out your name. The stench of vomit hit them and before he could tell her not to, Diana rushed in. He followed behind her as she raced to your bedside and he was overcome with unspeakable grief. The sheets were covered in vomit which had run down the side of your bed onto the floor. A bottle of sleeping tonic lay in the middle of the mess, your hand still slightly cupped as if you’d been holding it and your lips stained the same hue as its contents. You lay motionless on the bed. Diana gasped and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you, trying to call the life back into you.

The grief turned to hate, turned to rage and he wanted to throw Diana aside so that she’d stop touching you. Stop handling you so harshly as if she had any right. Hadn’t she done enough? What made her think she was going to save you? In the piercing moment of loss, he wanted nothing more than to follow you. He didn’t think he could hold to reality any longer, but he knew would. He had no other choice. What misfortune to not even be able to go mad in the face of something like this, to always be aware of the enormous pain belonging to both of you. What misfortune to never be in control, remaining unable to even apologize. He held her shoulders and gently pulled her away as she went into shock.

Diana had begun to hyperventilate as he held onto her, she clutched at her stomach and cried out as if pained. “Diana?” he called to her, panicked. She did not respond, she stared at your dead body as if it were the only thing in the room. With the sight of you, chased into the grave by her actions, she was gripped by anguish strong enough to render her inconsolable. The fear, the guilt, the horror of this knowledge and the stress that it put on her, spurred her into labor too soon. She cried out, doubling over as the pain returned. He called out to the servants in the hall, preparing for the day. “We need help in here!”

The servants ran to swarm around Diana, gently leading her into another room. “Please, my lady, you must calm yourself!” a maid cried as they went down the hall. No one bothered seeing if there was anything that could be done for you. No one seemed to take a second look at your body. They were busy tending Diana. She was the one with his precious child, after all and you were the one with nothing. Even if they could bring the life back into you, what would they be saving? What use would you be? Claude took one last look at you before he followed after her. Even in death, you’d been neglected and even now he would abandon you.

The labor ended quickly, that was the most merciful thing that could be said about it. Diana gave birth to a small, stillborn boy. He’d been at her side the whole time, clutching her hand. The boy was small enough to be held in one of his hands. Diana was inconsolable, sobbing and screaming out her pain at the loss of their son. After he was taken away from the room, she shrugged off Claude’s touch, it only seemed to further upset her. She begged for him to leave the room, still in tears. And he could do nothing else. His heart was hollow.

Diana entered a sort of catatonic state. Barely eating or drinking and avoiding his presence. His greater mind was inundated with grief but what did he feel inside, at his core? How was he to know? One pain rolled into the other, one grief was much like another. You had gone to your grave with the knowledge that he’d given another woman a child where you had lost yours. Now this child had been lost and both he and Diana stained in your blood with no child in their arms that might’ve allowed them to pretend it had been worth it. To what end? What kind of fate was this?

He understood what Diana must have been feeling, he had no choice but to. He was meant to be her other half, pulled on a string by some nebulous force’s yearnings for her. Her sister killed herself because the man she so dearly, so dutifully loved had an affair with her sister and there was a child between them, that much was tragedy enough. But even that could be accepted, that much guilt swallowed in the face of a very precious, much wanted child. It wouldn’t be right to say that the life she’d bring forth would be worth the death she caused but it would be something to hold to. When she looked at the child in her arms, she could put aside her guilt and regrets. She would have to put her shame aside, swapping it for the love of a mother. She could fool herself into believing it was a strange sort of fate, her greatest happiness whose birth she would never take back had to come from her greatest sadness. Through the love of her child, she could find a way to let go of the regret. Something new and good would come forth to occupy her time, her love. But her child had died and she was alone with the guilt. Her sister died because of her and nothing had come from it but grief.

He understood too that Diana must have seen their son in his face and if it were up to him, he’d have gladly stayed away from her. He had enough grief to last lifetimes, what place did he have trying to ease hers when he had not even figured out how to do it for himself? Even so, the thoughts that ran concurrent to his own, stronger and louder, wanted nothing more than to comfort her. It wounded him that she was in no state to accept his comfort and he wanted to keep trying. He needed her comfort and he desperately needed to take care of her. He felt powerless when he couldn’t. He might’ve smiled at that, if only he could. Foolish. How foolish a man his greater self was.

It was weeks later when Diana finally let him in. A maid had come to his door on some unworthy night saying that the lady wished to see him. He came to her immediately, easily mollified by the simple act of her wanting him again. Out of the darkness came forth thoughts that they could still marry, could still have a child together even if it would never fill the void their son had left. We could still be happy, sung the darkness.

When he came to her bedside, she looked as she had in other lives when her health had failed but she smiled at him. “I’ve been thinking of our son.” Her voice was faint and fond, though it wavered slightly. “What if…he died as retribution for what we did?” Claude started to object. Even his lesser self was certain that this was probably the only tragedy he’d experienced thus far that wasn’t given as punishment. But she held up a hand. “Please, please just let me finish. He and my sister both were made to die because of we did. When I was still….with child, I thought everything would be alright, so long as I had you. I thought nothing could touch us. The hard part was over, my child was determined to live despite my weak constitution and I had nearly eight anxious months behind me to prove it. I thought my sister would come around somehow…I thought…I don’t know. I just didn’t think she’d ever react that way. Even if she wouldn’t forgive me.” Tears rolled down her wan cheeks.

“We never thought of anything but each other, did we? We didn’t even think of what we would be bringing a child into.” Her smile now resembled a grimace, she didn’t look at him. “I felt guilty for everything but I believed we couldn’t help it, we were so in love that we had to be together. I always softened it like that, you know? I sweetened it by likening us to my favorite romance novels, I believed that fate was on our side. I believed in the kind of love that was stronger than anything and I never thought I’d know a greater pain than not having you.” Her hands anxiously fidgeted with the threads on the sheets. “I…I think it’s time for me to return home,” she mumbled.

He murmured his discontent in soft words meant to coax her back even as his heart, the false one, was breaking. But Diana shook her head. “I’ll leave in the morning, I just— I need time.” She sounded slightly apologetic but it was clear she would not be argued with. He knew that she’d never return. How could she? There was too much blood between them now. This was their swan song. It struck him like a blow to the chest but it only made the contrast between his two selves that much more apparent. In that cold corner he reserved for the person he used to be, sometime, some place, ages ago, worlds away— he breathed a sigh of relief.

In the morning, Diana left and the darkness unwound. It retreated into the air, returning his body to him too late. When he realized this, the first thing he did was cry for you. He hadn’t been able to before, he could do nothing but mourn the shambles of his relationship with Diana. Everything was Diana and the child they’d lost. He had been forced to stew in grief but in all reality, he felt relieved in some small measure. It was a sick thought that shamed him like everything else but it was there, hiding beneath misery. He was relieved never to have to give that a child a name knowing he’d never done for yours. To give that child a love that he hadn’t been able to spare for yours.

But at the end of everything, you were dead. Gone to your grave thinking that he had done everything he’d never do for your child. Why couldn’t he ever save you? Or if not save you, then spare you this agony somehow, send you to death eternal. Why were the two of you forever trapped in this repetition? He cried for your memory, your lonely grave next to the unnamed baby boy who’d been born to the darkness that killed you again and again. He came undone, succumbed to the helplessness and dejection of his station finally. He mired in that grief. He refused to undercut it with drink or with self platitudes. He did not even stir up rage to combat the relentlessness of his own mourning. There was nothing more for him than the blood that trailed behind each and every life of his.

Eventually, when he’d grown numb, he made the decision to die again. That seemed to be an unspoken promise, the only one he could keep— that he’d always follow you into each life and each death. He drank too much sleeping tonic as you had and fell to an ungentle journey toward death. He retched and writhed in his sheets from the sharp pains. He struggled to breathe, to even move with the heaviness of his limbs. It was a wonder he had been able to turn on his side and avoid choking on his vomit. Only when he was spewing bile did his eyelids begin to droop and his consciousness fade. His addled mind conjured the image of your body lying next to him, already long gone. He reached his fingers toward the mirage, and curled them around the hand of your specter.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic

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adora-but-ginger · 10 months

Text

Cool About It

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

summary: he was dead. he was dead, but he was right in front of you.

word count: ~2.2k

warnings: talk of grief, a panic attack, stages of grief, angst, fluff(?)

a/n: i listen to phoebe and boygenius so much that honestly it's surprising that i haven't written a fic with one of their songs as a title yet. get some tissues ready just in case, folks.

masterlist

one last thing, please don't repost my stories.

credit to gif owner.

When you saw him, your heart damn near stopped pumping.

You had gone through the stages of grief and had made peace with your partner's death. So, when you saw him, well, not him him but still him, you froze.

It felt like an out-of-body experience, seeing his face again, but knowing it wasn't really him. He had the same brown eyes, same figure, and the same hair, but you knew that that was where the similarities ended. This version was stiffer, rougher around the edges.

He was explaining the whole multiverse and cannon events and whatever else, but you weren't listening because the last time he talked to you it was in your arms whilst the life drained out of him. The tears were rushing to your ducts, and it took your all to keep them down. He was going on and on about some stupid watch and you were supposed to act like it was all normal? Your mouth had fallen slightly open and as much as you kept your body from reacting otherwise, your eyes betrayed you.

Memories of the two of you, of what once was, couldn't stop breaking your mental doors down. Your life together, when you were sure that he was the love of your life and that you could actually live out a life in content, all taken from you, no, stolen from you. And yet he was here and in front of you explaining a stupid watch.

You couldn't do this. Youcouldn'tdothis youcouldn'tdothis. You could feel your hands shake as they reached out for the watch, and you knew you had to get out of there when you met his eyes. They were his eyes, but not his eyes. He was looking at you with brows turned down and a frown on his face, and damn if you weren't about to break into a sweat if you stayed in this version of his' presence. So, you took the watch from his grasp and practically bolted out of there, not saying a single word to him. You couldn't trust your voice, hell there wasn't much you could trust about yourself right now.

You gasped for escaping breaths the second his doors shut behind you, feeling like you were about to have a heart attack. All you could think about was him, him, his smile, his gentle words with you, his stupid turtlenecks that you loved so much, his cat, his everything. You needed to leave but had nowhere to go. Back home you would be filled with more memories, and the bare walls of this giant establishment wouldn't do you any good either. You were imploding in on yourself, and about to spiral in a universe that wasn't your own. You--

"Hey, I wasn't done talking to you." You squeezed your eyes shut as that voice filled your ears. You stood with you head hung, chest shakily rising and falling. His voice held more of a sternness to it, like whenever he would scold someone for being rude, or whenever he wou-- stop. Stop. You needed to stop. You were sure he was saying more, but your hearing had become muffled, your senses shutting down. The world felt underwater, and you were sinking.

You shivered as his hand was placed on your shoulder, turning you around.

"Are you okay?"

It was such a simple but such a loaded question. His eyebrows were scrunched, and god it was all the same.

"You walked out while I was still explaining this to you. Why?" You could feel your eyes become unfocused. You were angry, angry at the multiverse for bringing this upon you, for making you reopen a wound that had just scarred over. His hand gave your shoulder a squeeze then, and you tore away from it like it scorched you, though the only burn marks were in the familiarity of his fingertips.

"Get away from me."

You had wanted to say something that wouldn't rise any more suspicion, but clearly that wasn't what was going to happen. You could barely get a sentence out, choking up at the end. You could see him grit his teeth as he mumbled something and a figure popped up on his shoulder, seemingly talking back to him.

He leaned down to meet you more at your level of height before talking again. "You don't get to tell me what I do and don't do. Clearly there's something wrong. What is it?" He spoke stoically, void of emotion. Maybe that's why you responded--your Miguel always spoke his feelings.

You took a few deep breaths to try to steady your breathing before looking at him. When you did, you didn't even recognize your voice. "What's wrong? What's wrong is that you're dead." You could barely restrain the emotion in your words, and once again were reminded that you needed to get out of there before you started a conversation you couldn't handle. You felt like you were drowning, and you wished that this could all be just another nightmare.

He cocked his head ever so slightly in question, and you glanced to the yellow figure by his shoulder before shaking your head and turning to walk away. Maybe it was a little harsh to leave him there standing in confusion as you went to attempt to wash his memory from your mind again, but you weren't in the best state of mind right now.

The dam broke as you heard the yellow figure say "cannon event," "you," and "partner," and you left without another trace.

After your first encounter with this new Miguel, you avoided him like the plague. You weren't in HQ a lot, but when you were, you were in the most solitary spots you could locate. If there was a briefing with him in it, you focused your attention on everything but him, though you could feel his eyes on you. It didn't help that a ragtag group of younger spider people decided that you were unofficially their newest member, dubbing you one of the 'oldies' alongside a Jess and Peter B. You didn't talk much, and they didn't push so you thought they were okay. If even a glimpse of Miguel became visible though, whether it was just him grabbing lunch or seeing him turn down the hallway, you disappeared.

Over the recent few days, it was getting harder to hide though. He seemed to be everywhere. Whether you were grabbing a meal, spending time with the group, or just minding your own business, he was always just around the corner.

Being home wasn't any better either, as he was everywhere there too. You hadn't moved out of your shared place, not only because it was a steal but also because it was the last remnants of him that you had. The uneven shelf he built for your birthday the year before he died, the cards he would write for you, the teddy bear that he surprised you with after you caught a nasty cold one year. His favorite records, his old sweatshirts, hell you were half sure that his ghost was here too. Sure, you were still living in grief a little, but it was hard after all of the time you spent together.

You only came back here every night for the cat you two had, if you were being honest. He had sworn up and down that he wasn't a cat person, but then you came home one night after your spider activities and there was a fluffy ball of fur that he had found roaming around his job, and just like that there was the new addition to your family. You gave the purring creature some pets and food, murmuring words of comfort, explaining your hectic day you'd had. It was a mysterio anomaly this time, always a hassle they were.

And then before you could even react, your senses (and the furball at your feet's) went haywire, and that bittersweet familiarity rushed through you again.

Your head whipped around at the intruder, and you sighed as he took in his new surroundings. "What do you want, Miguel." Your cat perked up at his name, and you had to pick her up as a result. "It's not him baby, I'm sorry."

His tone was bone-chilling, indifferent. "You're right, I'm not him and I can't be him." He took your demeanor in, and you could sense a slight shift in his posture as the portal behind him shut. "I'm sorry that I'm not. But that doesn't mean that you can avoid any interactions with me, especially when I've been searching you out."

"What? You've been what"

You could tell he was soaking the place in as he moved closer to you. "I see how you try to act like I'm not reminding you of him in meetings, and I--" a breath escaped him as he tried to gather his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. "You don't know much about me, but one thing we share is grief. Lyla explained the situation--and she also convinced me to come here in the first place--" he grumbled the last part, shaking his head. "--and I can't wrap my head around it because you also look like someone I loved who I lost." He gave you a moment to let the new sink in. "I tried to reach out to you, but--" His words were cut off as your eyes widened. That's why you kept seeing him everywhere, he was trying to tell you he had been suffering too.

Silence filled the air for a beat, the clock on your wall being the loudest in the room.

Eventually, you gathered your thoughts and spoke. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." You set the cat down and walked to him, closing any remaining distance.

"It's not your fault. The multiverse must be pretty angry at us. "

You don't know what caused you to laugh, maybe you were losing it, but the sound erupted from you anyways, shocking him briefly. "Yeah, I guess it is, huh."

There was a pregnant pause then, before he started laughing too. There the two of you stood, with all the knowledge of one who bore the same face yet with none of the knowledge at all.

And then you sat down, and he followed, and you talked. You both talked for who knows how long, about the versions of each other that you once knew. You both felt like fools, but it was nice to revel in the past for once, and you think that he would be happy with you making this progress. It was only when the sun rose in your universe that you realized just what you were doing, but you felt more at peace with it, in a way. He told you about his partner and his daughter, and you told him all about the two of you.

There were a few differences between them, subtle but still there. He made breakfast with you then, choosing the raspberries instead of the blueberries that he would always go with for the pancakes made. Once your plates had been cleared, the noises of the world waking up started to surround you, but all of the two of you could do was observe the other. You were both low on sleep, but you couldn't care then, for the tension had been lifted. He still held the stoicism when he talked, but you could tell that something had changed. Something had changed for the both of you.

It was time to head to work, but you wanted to get it off of your chest before you chickened out. You felt your nerves tingling as you prepared what you were going to ask, trying to make it sound nonchalant. "You know, maybe the universe is trying to give us another chance. I know that my Miguel would be laughing at this interaction between us, telling me to go shoot my shot." You huffed in amusement as you could imagine exactly how that interaction would go. You could picture it, too, him picking on you playfully for finding interest in him.

You were expecting a shake of the head and a 'let's forget this happened' comment, but instead he looked at you, his words catching you by surprise. "Yeah, I mean out of all the people to fall for, it makes the most sense that it would only ever be you. Even if it's a different you."

And yeah, it would be different, and you were in no way replacing him, but you think he'd be happy. Which is why your next words slipped out before you could even process what you were saying.

"Would you like to catch dinner sometime? I know a great empanada truck nearby."

You had never seen him smile, or show any positive emotion, side for a few quirks of his mouth as he was reminiscing last night. But there he stood; the tiniest bit of his lips turned upward as you went to feed the cat before you went to HQ.

And yeah, maybe you were going to be walking into dangerous territory, but you didn't have to focus on that right now. Because you two didn't need to talk about the fact that you had seen the other's face for a significant portion of your life. You didn't need to talk about the habits that were similar.

His voice drew you from your thoughts. "Yeah, I would like that."

A pause, and then a huff.

"What's the cats name?"

"Gabriella."

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman

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