#they really are one person and each others enabler | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollfacefantasy · 4 months

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hi! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you could write something with leon and a clingy reader? she just likes being held by him, and one day a make out session gets out of hand while he’s holding her so he just fucks her while standing up, not letting her get down. i don’t know if this makes sense but the thought won’t leave my head. hope you’re having a good day/night! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you're such a needy little thing. leon can't get enough of you, and when he finds out you like being held, he has to take advantage of that.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), standing sex, daddy kink

word count: 3.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i FELT this one cause i also have a thing about being held hehe. i hope it's what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

It only took Leon a couple weeks of dating to figure out that his girlfriend was exceptionally needy. He could tell you tried to suppress it to the best of your ability, control your yearning for physical contact, but it was still there. Honestly, it was obvious from the way you looked at him alone. Glossy, pleading eyes just calling out to him for some love.

At first, he was wary of this trait. He wasn’t good with affection normally. Didn’t like talking about his feelings. That stuff was just too much. He’s a busy guy already. He didn’t need extra worries in the form of a sweet thing like you rubbing your cheek against his neck, snaking your arms beneath his shirt, softly pleading “Leon, I wanna cuddle.”

But his problem was that he always gave into that stuff. Words like those hitting his ears, your pouty lips begging for his kisses, and grabby hands roaming around his body always got you what you wanted. He’d plant a smooch on your temple or forehead, grunt a quiet “c’mere then baby,” and pull you on top of him.

Time passed, and you grew on him like ivy climbing a stone wall. Your clingy nature took root somewhere inside him and drove him wild. It was addictive, feeling so needed. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone’s absolute first choice. It was nice living out his days with the subconscious idea that he was your favorite person. He could get a bit cocky about it sometimes but more than anything it made him all sappy. He couldn’t help it. He tried keeping up the cool, slick persona around you for a little while because impressing you was so important to him. But the way you looked at him made him feel like Superman. Your precious face tilted upwards to gaze at him like he was the only man you’d ever laid eyes on. It just made him wanna scoop you up and take off, soar far up into the clouds where it would just be the two of you.

So he ended up feeding into this kind of behavior one thousand percent, enabling you with no reservations. If you were sitting together, you were on his lap. Standing near each other? His arm was around you, keeping you tucked to his chest. The two of you would be lying in bed and simple cuddling just didn’t cut it anymore. No, instead, he’d be rubbing your back, nuzzling and kissing your neck, massaging your scalp. And the pet names were constant. Your actual name was only reserved for serious or special occasions. In ordinary conversations, it was always “my baby” with the intermittent “precious girl” or “princess” mixed in.

Because, from his perspective, why wouldn’t he? You both deserved this. You craved the physical affection you’d never gotten enough of while he yearned for a sweet little thing to dote on and love between the brutal DSO missions that plagued most of his time. He didn’t give a fuck if someone wanted to say it was codependent or that he was whipped. You were his baby, and if sweet tender affection was what revved your engine, what kind of man would he be to deprive you of it?

Maybe he was whipped. He wouldn’t shy away from that label. He loved you undoubtedly. His heart ached to see you smiling and laughing. Each individual cell in his body cried out to be pressed against you. But in the same breath, he’d be a liar if he said that sex played no part in his urges to coddle you.

He’d never seen a girl get as cock drunk as you. He’d warm you up with his cooing and caresses, and then all he had to do was slide a few inches in you, and you were gone. Nothing had ever gotten him so hard. It’s like your brain shut off as soon as your sweet little pussy was filled up. Really, you went the whole nine yards; whining, babbling, drooling. Your gorgeous lashes would flutter as your eyes went hazy, and you always wanted to hold his hand. Well, more specifically, you wanted him to offer his hand to you. He’d simply murmur “Aw, is it too much, princess? Here, hold daddy’s hand. That’s my girl,” and you were already cumming.

Cause that was the other part of this whole thing. Shortly after he caught on to your intense need for physical affection, he discovered your penchant for the infamous d word. The first time you’d said it, he had you pinned down to the mattress, face shoved against your pillow, hips slightly elevated while he stuffed you full of cock. You just cried it out in the same way you’d yell for God or whine “fuck.” And he rolled with it. One little word wasn’t gonna get in the way of what he’d found with you.

Beyond calling him daddy, Leon tried to take note of all the things that got you going. Sure, you were fond of physical expressions of love, and you probably wouldn’t turn down an offer from him ever. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have favorites when it came to this stuff. Leon took pride in remembering what you liked. Over the months of your relationship, he made a point to remember the specific motion you liked him to do when he rubbed your back. He burned into his mind that you liked to kiss in a way that would definitely make those over-the-top smooching noises found in network dramas. What could he say? He just wanted to do everything right for you.

Possibly his favorite thing that he discovered about you though was your love for being held. Love probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Your affinity? Proclivity? Plain white hot need? Who fucking knows. All he knew was that you had a major thing for being wrapped up in his arms with your head on his shoulder.

The first hint he’d got at this part of you came by pure accident. He’d just arrived home from a mission, a long and taxing one at that. He’d missed you like crazy, felt as needy as you did on a daily basis, and you were practically vibrating with a longing for his touch. So when you came bounding down the hallway to meet him at the front door, he’d grabbed you by the waist, picked you up and spun you around like in an old cartoon when the prince and princess finally get their happily ever after.

Coming out of the short twirl, he’d brought you to his chest and held your body a little ways above the ground. He cradled your head to your shoulder and kept his grip tight to support you. And it wasn’t like you melted or had little hearts gleaming in your eyes, but something in your demeanor shifted.

“There’s my baby,” he muttered while smacking kisses on the side of your head.

You replied with how much you missed him, more than anything in the whole world. He laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and brought you over to the couch. You were all over him even more than normal which was really saying something. You couldn’t stop pecking his face or pushing up against him. Next thing he knew, you were tugging at his belt and taking his dick down your throat.

“Fuck, precious. don’t gotta choke yourself. It’s not goin’ anywhere,'' he hummed while tilting his head back against the couch. You weren’t normally so forward. You were always needy, but typically, you waited for him to initiate. It was much more your style to drop hints that you were in the mood and wait for him to pick up on your signals, but this time you just went for it.

He stroked the back of your head while you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time. Groans fell from his lips, and his hips jolted in small twitches. Your saliva seeped out over your soft lips and dribbled down to his balls. You had never lacked enthusiasm before, but now you were taking him like his cock was the best treat you’d ever had.

He could barely stand the sight of you in that moment. Cute eyes drooping while your cheeks hollowed. Once he heard the muted sound of you gagging, he was done for. Shot his load deep in your throat in what would have been an embarrassingly short amount of time if you were anyone else. But you swallowed it all without any complaints and then crawled into his lap to cuddle some more. As you curled up to his chest, he knew something he did struck a chord with you to get you so eager.

So naturally, he tried picking you up again a couple days later. He had to know if that was a fluke or if it really was a thing. This time it was much more intentional, but he still played it off as a teasing gesture. He scooped you up from behind while you were fidgeting with something in the kitchen, expecting a whiny chorus of “Leon!” and “Stop, put me down!” But you didn’t say either. You let out a soft squeak and a quiet “What are you doing?”

“Just giving you a hug, baby,” he teased and situated you in his embrace so your front was pressed to his.

Almost immediately, as if your skull was magnetized, your head fell to his shoulder. Your limbs tightened around him a little and you took a deep breath like you wanted to commit his scent to memory. You didn’t even complain about him pulling you away from whatever task had been occupying your attention.

“This isn’t a hug,” you’d said softly.

“Says who? Seems like a hug to me, got my arms around you,” he responded with a small kiss to your temple.

His hand rose to your head and cradled it against his shoulder as your legs locked around his waist. He stood there with you for a moment just taking in the embrace. It was as if he could feel you melt against his body.

“A hug is when we’re both standing,” you say quietly while slotting your face in the warm crook of his neck.

“Yeah? You look that up in the dictionary or something?” he mutters in return.

When he had a firm hold on you, he walked you through the living room, taking the long way up to the bedroom to give his little experiment some time to play out. You rested quietly in his grasp as he navigated past furniture. He ran his free hand up and down your back as he moved, his other one planted firmly on your thigh to support you.

After the two of you reached the bedroom, he set you down on the bed and climbed in after you. His fingers coasted across your cheek as he looked down into your eyes, studying you in a way. He was still curious about what was going through your head. Again, him holding you like that had led to some of the best sex the two of you’d had, but there was something deeper there too. This wasn’t just a cheat code to get you to drop your panties. There was an emotional part of this too. He could tell.

“So you like when I pick you up, hm?” he’d asked.

You looked up at him from your spot against his chest, glowing a bit as you came down from the high. “I guess,” you answered with a tiny shrug.

He’d chuckled at your attempt to be casual and just dropped the subject matter. Your reasons were probably sensitive to you. Located in a deep, private cavern of your heart that was too guarded for you to let even him in yet. And that was ok with him. For now, he’d just chalk it up to some desire on an instinctual level. It was just something that made you tick, and it became something he did for you from time to time when you needed that extra level of care.

This evening, the two of you had been watching some movie. To be honest, Leon didn’t even remember what it was called at this point because he didn’t really wanna watch it in the first place. He was much more interested in you. You had just started it up as he arrived home from running some errands though, so he didn’t want to be rude and ask you to shut it off just because he was horny. Instead, he flopped down next to you on the couch.

A small laugh bubbles from your lips as he pulls you to him and kisses down the side of your face, murmuring for you to explain what’s going on in the thing you were watching. You ramble on about the story, telling him that it’s the end of the world and these guys are trapped in this house, and that one is friends with that one but hates the other one, and blah blah blah. He loved you to death, but he just couldn’t care less about that right now. He hums along with a stream alternating between “mhm” and “oh yeah.”

Your laughter increases as his kisses become more distracting. He nips at the skin of your throat and litters your soft skin with love bites. His tongue laves at your neck as his nose coasts over your flesh. After a while, your own interest in the movie begins to dwindle. You turn your head and plant some smooches on his face, enticing him to tilt his head upwards. The two of you meet in the middle, connecting your lips.

Mouths move in sync, tongues brush each other, and soon enough, your seat’s been abandoned in favor of your true favorite spot. You’re parked on his lap, the lush flesh of your ass flush against his semi-hard bulge. His hand slithers up your back underneath your shirt to rub up and down your spine while pulling you closer. Your breathing gets heavier, and you’re practically panting when you two finally pull away for a break. Your lips are wet with spit and a little puffy from making out. He drags his thumb over your bottom one as he smirks at your glazed eyes.

“Think you’d be ok with finishing this later?” he asks.

To his pleasure, you’re quick to accept the offer with a nod. “Seen it before anyways,” you admit and lean back in for more kisses.

He chuckles into your mouth and boosts you up without even turning the tv off. He’s stumbling to the bedroom, and you’re latched onto him like a little spidermonkey or something. He knew well by now that being carried took your brain to that sweet spot of utter submission, but today you were on something else entirely. You were getting whiny between kisses. He was having to support you extra because your hands were trying to slide in between the two of you and get at his pants. He assumed it was cause he got you riled up before picking you up, but he didn’t lament about it too much. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now.

All your squirming around nearly made him trip and topple the both of you to the ground. He grunts and shifts you around, trying to get you to settle down at least till you reach the bedroom. You wouldn’t let up though, continuing on with your impatient hip rocking and greedy fingers. He’s sure he’s about to fall over and one of you is moments away from serious injury, so he totters a few steps over and secures you against the wall.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d just got back from a war or something,” he breathes.

You laugh, but keep up your neediness. “Just want you so bad. Missed my daddy all day,” you murmur.

“Yeah? I know it’s hard being away from me. Your little head’s just not cut out for all that thinking is it?” he coos condescendingly, “This is how you're meant to be, just attached to daddy, letting him take care of everything while you tag along.”

“Mhm,” you nod and kiss him again. He can feel you smiling against his lips.

“Yeah, so how bout you do me a favor then and stop wriggling around so much. You wanna get dropped on your head so thinking isn’t even an option anymore?” he teases.

“No. I just…” you whimper defensively. A smile spreads across your face as you hide your face at the base of his neck. “I just want you… really bad.”

That was a tone Leon knew well by now. That was the tone of the guessing game. It was the voice you used when you wanted something but were too shy to just ask for it. So Leon had to decipher your signals and figure out what that thing was. Luckily, this time around it was pretty simple.

“Really bad? Like pinned down in the middle of the hallway while I’m stuffing you full of cum bad?” he asks.

“Sorta…” you say.

With an amused shake of his head, he thinks a little more. The stuffed full of cum thing was a given. So what was off? He was thinking through this as if searching for a missing puzzle piece. He runs through different scenarios before it clicks. He laughs a little. It was kind of obvious once he had it.

“Oh, of course not. There’s no way you’d choose to be out of my arms. What was I thinking?” he says, exaggerating his cadence, “So you want it standing?”

You nod, and with the right answer, that little smile feels so much sweeter. He leans harder into you, keeping you by pressing you between him and the wall. Giving you a few messy kisses, he finally undoes his pants and pushes them down to his mid-thigh. He was fully hard now. You could feel it as he rolled his hips against your center.

“Lucky you’re wearing a skirt, nice and easy for me,” he hums.

He bunches up the fabric around your waist before dragging his fingers over your panties, feeling how they were damp. He smirks against your lips while applying more pressure, seeking out your swollen clit.

“Already so wet, baby,” he chides, “Is this how you get while I’m not with you? Can’t think of anything but daddy cause your pretty pussy’s just crying for some more attention.”

“Yeah, need you to make the ache go away,” you say in a breathy whimper.

“I know you do,” he coos.

It’s a bit difficult in this position, but Leon manages to remove the last barriers of cloth separating the two of you. He lines up his dick with your entrance and slides home. Now it’s his head that falls on your shoulder as he groans. His stance didn’t really allow him to ease in. He was balls deep in the first stroke. You let out a long satisfied moan.

Taking a moment to readjust, he gets his elbows hooked under the bends of your knees. You’re basically bent in half, his cock to your cervix. This angle felt even deeper too. Your walls pulse around him as you work to accommodate the length.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Every part of you clings to me,” he grunts before taking a step away from the wall.

Losing the stability behind your back had you rocking and shifting more, causing his tip to nudge against all those sweet spots. Your thighs quiver as Leon gets into a rhythm and figures out how to bounce you on his cock like his. The sound of your skin meeting floats down the hallway. You whine and whimper, your eyes roll back as your head tilts the same direction.

He could tell you were loving it. Your favorite place to be combined with your favorite feeling in the entire world. There was nothing his sweet girl loved more than being stuffed full of cock and held by him.

“Feeling good, princess? Is daddy fucking you just how you wanted?” he asks.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Good,” he says. He focuses on working himself in and out of you. His mind is locked on the sensation of your slick coating his shaft and collecting at the base, dripping down to his balls. But more words fill his mind and rush to his mouth to be let out. “This is why you’re so needy, right baby? You just need some cock in you or you get so frustrated. Can’t even think straight without your fill, can you?”

You shake your head wildly. Your legs tense over his arms. His hands dig into your back to keep you supported. You see his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he uses his strength to hold you up. He rocks you on his cock, back and forth, sliding himself in and out. You’re gasping and trembling more noticeably now. He knows you’re approaching the peak.

“Doing so good for me, precious,” he murmurs, “Keep squeezing me like that so I can fill you up just how you need.”

Your noises become more desperate. It feels as though you get even tighter. Leon slams into you deeper than you could remember. But then again, in this state, your memory wasn’t worth much. Pumping in and out, he sees your eyes squeeze show, your mouth widening into that cute familiar shape it always made when you came.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for daddy,” he groans.

You do as he says, following your orders. You seize up and moan, long and loud. He tightens his grip and takes a step closer to the wall to ensure your high isn’t cut by falling. His hips don’t stop though. He feels that tensing in his belly. Gritting his teeth, he pounds you over and over until he has to stumble back to the wall.

You hit the surface with a thud, but he’s a little too busy to notice. He growls and whimpers into your neck, hips working at a more strained pace as he tries to grab that brief euphoria. A few thrusts later and release is washing over him. He fucks you full, going deep and staying true to his word about filling you up. He pumps every last drop in.

You slowly slide down in his arms till he lets go of your legs and your feet can touch the ground again. Looking up at him as he comes down, you watch his features melt into the relaxation of post-release. You lean up and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes open and look down at you. A lazy smile spreads on his face and moves in to return the gesture.

“So how’d I do?” he asks with that smug look you loved so much.

“Perfect like always,” you answer, genuine in contrast to his teasing. You step forward on wobbly legs, grabbing his hand to finish your trip to the bedroom together. He leans down and smacks a kiss on your neck.

“Clearly not perfect enough if you’re walking on your own now,” he purrs in your ear.

You smile and look down. “There’s still time to fix that,” you offer.

“Of course there is,” he agrees with a light swat to your ass. He pecks your lips once more before following you through the entryway to your shared room.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #smut

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heartpascal · 1 year

Text

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.�� Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

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loveemagicpeace · 8 months

Text

💗Jupiter & Your Luck💗

🌸Jupiter in the 1st house means that you are lucky with your appearance. You always have plenty of clothes and everything you want. Your style really changes a lot and you are always confident about everything you put on. For everything related to your appearance and energy, Jupiter brings you happiness. You know how to be you without listening to other people. You mostly have your own opinion that you stick to and don't let others knock you down. You're really confident about your body and everything you do. Every place you enter, people notice you. You also have optimistic and positive outlook on life. Jupiter here usually indicates good general health. You are also very attractive person. This placement makes you a magnet for other people. You are an inspiring person to many, and people with this placement. Also u can have luck with money and all the things in life.

🌙Jupiter in 2nd house- happiness regarding money, values of things, material things. You can have luck with food, drink, music. You enjoy things to the fullest. You are charming, good talker, and knowledgeable in life. You have the proper mental strength and intelligence in your life. People with this placement can make anything profitable. They often become financially successful at a relatively young age. You are a person who has your own values and you don't let anyone take that value away from you.

🦋Jupiter in 3rd house- happiness with relatives, brothers and sisters- you can have a very good relationship with them and you can understand each other well. You can also be lucky with cars and get your dream car, you can also do the exam quickly. You have the gift of speech and everything you say comes across well. You can also be lucky in that you can express yourself quickly with words. People may find your words inspirational and positive.

🛼Jupiter in the 4th house - happiness with family - you can grow up in a rich family or a family in which you feel accepted and connected. You have a good relationship with your mother, and she can buy or enable you a lot. In general, you can have a really good relationship with your mother and you can feel better around her and she gives you good energy. You can live in your dream house. Happiness with space. You can be lucky with where you live and always make some profit wherever you are. It can also mean that you will live in another country (or somewhere you always wanted to).

🎨Jupiter in the 5th house - you are lucky in that people quickly notice you and your talents. You have a talent for many sports or things. You can meet a lot of people that you have a really great time with. Your dates are often fun and usually the people you go on a date with are people that you like. You have good luck with dates, in general. You can also have a lot of fans or opportunities. You can win many times in gambling. People were born to enjoy life with jupiter here. They are warm, friendly, open to new people and new experiences. This placement of Jupiter indicates high self-confidence. You are optimistic and courageous about the outcomes of a new venture, and you are willing to take risks.

🩵Jupiter in 6th house - you are lucky with health and body. Many times you can have a routine that you follow. Your lifestyle is usually fun and interesting. You are also lucky with work. You can quickly find a job and have good colleagues with whom you get along well, but you can also have something of your own. You often find that financial abundance comes to you through your day job. New opportunities frequently come into your life through your job or coworkers.

🧚🏼‍♀️Jupiter in the 7th house - you are lucky with relationships, you can have the partner you always wanted. You can have a huge wedding and a really beautiful one. You can gain a lot in co-courts. This placement is a predisposition for popularity. You are well-known in your community and people like you. You are often turned to for advice. You can also have many connections, or sometimes you enter high society. This is a good position of Jupiter for lawyers, attorneys, judges.

🎧Jupiter in the 8th house - you are lucky with inheritance (many times you can get something that someone leaves you), you are lucky with finances and you can also get a lot from others. Many times you get from it when you invest money. Jupiter also protects you from misfortune, which means that anything can happen to you and she is happy on your side. If you get close to dying, Jupiter in the eighth house usually saves you. You can get away with a lot of dark stuff. You can also have happiness with deeper relationships and intimacy. When someone breaks your heart, you get over it quickly. You can meet someone who is rich.

🫧Jupiter in the 9th house - of course you are lucky in everything. This is the best position for Jupiter because it rules this house. These people are really very lucky in life and they don't even need to do much for it, happiness comes by itself. Many times you are lucky to see a lot of countries and the world. You can meet people who help you a lot in life and give you a new perspective on things, people who bring meaning to your life. Sometimes moving to a different country helps you improve your finances. This placement makes you enthusiastic and curious about the world. Adventure is what makes you feel alive.

🍬Jupiter in 10th house- you are lucky with your career and success. These people always succeed in life, no matter how. Since this is also the house of parents (especially father, grandfather...) you can get a lot of money from your father or grandfather, or they can help you a lot in building your career. Also with this placement you can often become a leader or a well-known person. Jupiter places you high up in your professional journey, makes you hardworking & prosperous. You like to travel and gain knowledge about different cultures and people.

☂️Jupiter in the 11th house - you are lucky with your dreams, you can realize everything you want. You can have many friends who are loyal to you and do a lot for you. In the group, people see you as a very smart and wise person. Your circle is usually well-educated, intelligent, and speak foreign languages well. Jupiter suggests that you are a generous person who has moral values. You often have a network of influential people who help you advance in life. Na socialnih omrežjih si hitro prepoznaven. People with this placement easily make new friends.

🧜🏼‍♀️Jupiter in the 12th house - many times you are lucky when others are not. Also u are very spiritual person. You have higher moral standards than most people, and you want to live up to them under any circumstance. You want to be good even if there is nothing in it for you. This placement suggests an old soul. You have an innate wisdom, and you are usually more mature. You love to spend time alone, and wonder about life. You often notice more than other people do, and you are easily overwhelmed by all those things going on around you. Lahko sam potuješ na kraje, katere si želiš videti in so ti blizu. You should always follow your gut feelings. Intuition is how your higher self communicates you. Sometimes even you don’t understand why you feel about something the way you do, but most often it turns out that you were right.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

✨Ig-bekylibra✨

-Rebekah🎸🌙🫧

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #astrology observations #birth chart #jupiter #luck

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mirohlayo · 7 months

Text

YOUR PRECIOUS ATTENTION | LN4

( lando doesn't like when you give your attention to someone else, when all he wants is to be with you )

warning : fluff, some jealousy

word count : 2.7k

!! english not my first language !!

you greet acquaintances as you walk and try to find your way in the paddock. you walk towards the McLaren garage and then your eyes search for your boyfriend. shortly after, you find him next to oscar and some engineers. they're talking and have serious faces. you want to greet them (lando actually) but you decide to not intrude their conversation because it looks serious and important, probably about the qualifications. so you wait. a little long. maybe a little too long. lando doesn't seem to have noticed you. well actually you arrived 30 minutes earlier than expected and that's why lando have no idea that you are here, waiting for him.

so you keep waiting. and waiting. time passes and now you've been waiting for 20 minutes. you know very well that the conversation was going to last a little longer, races are really important for lando and his team because it's their jobs. so instead of wasting your time and wait for him, you decide to take a walk inside the paddock, because as time passed you got bored.

a lot of people are present of course. engineers, journalists, racing teams, staff and the drivers' friends and family. but now you're used to that crowd. you're dating lando for quite a while now and attending almost all his races enabled you to be comfortable with this environment and atmosphere. and actually you really enjoy it. being able to meet new people, having funny conversations with them, the stressful feeling of races and qualifications, happiness when the racing team does a good job. you know that you're a very lucky person to have access to all of that.

you keep walking slowly, observing here and there around the paddock. then you find hamilton, saying goodbye to some guys and he notices you right after. you smile at him as he walks towards you, smiling back to you. he stops himself in front of you.

- nice to see you here y/n ! he says with a great smile.

- nice to see you too lewis ! you answered.

- why you're taking a walk alone ? he frowns a bit and then raises his brows like he found something. your boyfriend is too occupied right ?

you laugh and nod.

- yeah, looks like he was having a serious conversation with the engineers, i didn't want to intrude. but it's okay, i enjoy walking alone around the paddock.

- would you like to walk with me a bit then ? i've finished checking things with my team and i'm not gonna lie i need some distraction, he adresses to you a big smile.

part of you want to decline your friend's offer but you remember lando is still in the mclaren garage and if you join him now he'd probably be still here talking, not having time for you. and it's been a while since you last spoke with lewis.

- okay, let's go. but just for like 10 minutes, otherwise lando will wonder where i am and search for me all around the paddock, you say in a grin.

- don't worry, i won't take up too much of his girlfriend's time, he joked.

you guys start to walk slowly, enjoying the presence of each other. lewis is actually a good friend of you. well it's thanks to him that you're now lando's girlfriend. you're one of his closest friend, you know him for some years now. one day, he asked you to come to watch him pilot. you said that you didn't have the time, too busy with your job. he had to beg you and made you free up time to come over and watch a grand prix. finally, you gave up and went a sunday to the race. and you don't regret coming that day, because it's when you met for the first time lando. and now he's your boyfriend. lewis really deserves an appreciation for that.

- when i think that at the beginning you were a supporter of Mercedes, he grin and look down at your mclaren hoodie. the number 4 was on the back of it.

- guess tastes change, you answered playfully.

- especially not because of one particular boy, he's now giving you a implicit look.

- oh please shut up, you say in a smile and hit his shoulder.

he laugh at you. sometimes you forget lewis can be very teasing when he wants.

- but it's okay, i like lando. especially because he got me rid of an irritating girl, he jokes and can't hide his vicious smile.

- you lewis !! you give him a blow in the ribs and shoot a black look. you try to bite back a smile but his laugh and teasing can't help it.

- i'm not going to remind you that roscoe loves me more than you, you tease him. and well, it's the truth.

- don't even try to continue on this topic. you know it breaks my heart y/n, he says and place his hand over his heart like he was hurt.

- so dramatic, you laugh and roll your eyes.

you can't deny it but your teasing game with lewis is something that you really like. you missed these interactions with your friend. and so does he.

you both are so into your teasing game that you don't even realizes you're now in front of the mclaren paddock. and what you also didn't noticed was how lando is looking at you two.

he finished his checking conversation with the engineers and oscar not so long ago. he thought that you were already in the garage waiting for him. but how suprised he was when he found out you were not here. first, he thought you were just in the toilets, or in his drivers room. so he calmed down a bit and went to his room. but you were not here too. then he started looking for you, searching everywhere until he finds you here in front of him, laughing and joking with hamilton. you look happy, looking at him with a playful look and smile, slapping his arm and then shoot him back a black look trying not to burst out laughing at the dumb things he says.

lando can't help but felt his heart tightens. the way you are just having a fun time with lewis, laughing like it is the funniest moment of your life, your hand touching his shoulder so that you don't lose your balance because you have this habit of almost falling to the ground when you're laughing to hard. and that usually happens when you are with lando, when he makes you laugh because oh he loves the sound of your laugh and your big smile, especially when he's the reason of it. but seeing you in this exact state with his driver friend instead of him, he just doesn't like that at all. yeah, he hates it. and he also feel guilty about it. he likes hamilton because he's his friend, but above all because it's thanks to him that you're his girlfriend.

he feel like he has no right to feel like that, because originally you are a friend of hamilton and he met you after him, when you were already one of his closest friends. if lewis didn't bring you that sunday, lando wouldn't be bere to be yours. but he also can't stand seeing you being so close to him, like it's just the two of you against the world. he just wants to be the only one for you, to be the only one that make you smile and laugh like that. just him and you. just you giving him all your attention. maybe he was just a bit insecure.

he sigh and take a deep breath. then he walks towards you two. he stop himself behind you and in front of the other driver and you are still laughing like kids until lewis notices him.

- looks like the prince if finally here for his princess, lewis says earning a grin from lando.

- yes, i come to save her, he reply in a grin but with an annoying tone, that he hopes you haven't heard. it comes harsher than he wanted.

- i am a troublemaker or something ? lewis joked and tease his friend.

- of course you are, you're always bothering me when lando is not here ! you say, still teasing him.

- oh stop i already know you loves him so much and would rather be with him than me in any situations, the mercedes driver give a playful look to the mclaren driver while saying this to you.

- of course, he's lando norris. how can i not love him ? you reply softly.

lando feel his heart lights. he can't help but smile at your sweet words. you look so in love with him it just makes lando so so happy. he drop his gaze on you and you give him a big smile, the one he cherishes with all of his heart. he wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to his body.

- oh please don't do that in front of me, lewis says and act like he was disgusted, just to tease and bother you.

- not my fault if you don't have someone to hug, you reply, defending you and your boyfriend.

- yes it is, he reply back to back.

- no, it is not.

and like that you guys keep arguing about why lewis never hugs people and that he's maybe in need of affection. and lando was just there, trying to follow the debate.

you are just giving almost all of your attention to hamilton instead of him. and lando just hates that. he just want to run away from you and eclipse himself for the whole day, distancing himself from you until you give him your divine attention. maybe he is childish for thinking like that, but he just feels so jealous right now. for him, lewis is just stealing his girl. he should be the one debating with her, not the one who is here on the side and just standing like a bot. he is getting more jealous and angry. and he doesn't like that.

so, instead of just explodes in front of you two, he try to get your attention by squishing your hand, or your waist. reaching his hand to replace a strand of hair on your face, pull the sleeve of your hoodie, randomly kissing quickly your cheeks or the back of your hand. he just keeps touching you gently and softly and each time you look up at him and give him some bit of attention he feels relieve and happiness fills his body. but not a second later you're back talking and laughing with lewis. and then he can't stand it anymore.

he walks away from you and left you here with hamilton, not even daring to look back. he feels like an idiot for his shit behavior towards you and his mate but he gets sick by just seeing you so close with an another man than him. he knows damn well jealousy is not something good in a relationship, but he's so done. he is so annoyed and irritated by what happened that he completely forgot he has the qualifying. he enter the mclaren garage in a virulent way, and some people notice it, oscar being one of them.

- hey mate, you look like you're going to kill someone, oscar joked as he comes closer to the driver.

- maybe because that's what's going to happen, lando reply in a irritating tone.

oscar get silent for a moment and frown. he examines lando's expression.

- what happened ? he asked cautiously, not wanting to make things getting worse.

- nothing, don't worry, lando reply coldly.

- you're sure ?

lando turn to face his teammate and calm down a bit. he sigh and pat his shoulder to reassure him.

- yeah, just some silly things i think about. he pause for a second and then he gives him a determined look. let's do our best for the qualifying mate !

oscar smiles and nod his head, even though he's still worried about his friend statement.

and then, the qualifying takes place.

----

you're now waiting for your boyfriend in his drivers room. you know something bad happened, or maybe you did something wrong but the way your lover just left you in the middle of the paddock like an abandoned child makes you worrying about him. he looked angry, furious and frustrated because his walk wast fast and he didn't even look back. you want to know and understand why he reacts like that.

the race just finish some minutes ago, and lando will come soon into his driver room to dropped some stuff out as usual.

and then the door opens. you meet his eyes, and they're a lot of different emotions in it when he realizes that you're here. you stand up and guide yourself to him.

- lan, you whisper softly.

you try to approach him but he moves and take a step back. you're hurt.

- can we talk about what happened please ? i know something bother you.

he lift up his head to meet your gaze. and he didn't expect to see your hurt expression on your face. now he feels even more guilty than during the race. because yes, he regretted his behavior and how childish he was towards you when he was on the track. he couldn't concentrate fully on the race because of you and his shit actions. and now seeing you in this state makes him want to kiss you and hold you tight. his heart is crying.

- yeah, sure.

- why did you walk away like that ? something happened i know it, you start.

he avoid your gaze and start playing with his fingers. he's nervous. he does not want to reveal that he was so jealous of lewis because you would think he's such a kid and immature. a moment of silence fill the air. you notice that he looks nervous, so you try to help him.

- it is because of me ? you ask gently.

- not really, he answers still not looking at you.

- lando tell me what's wrong. i want to know because i'm confused and i don't want you to keep things to yourself. you can talk to me baby.

- i'm so sorry love, he says. then the second later, you're in his strong arms. he pulls you very close to his body and hide his face in your neck. so so sorry. i didn't intend to hurt you.

you sigh and gently rub his back.

- i'm not. just tell me how you feel lan. i promise i already forgave you, just tell me about your feelings please.

he goes silent for a minute, keeping you close to him.

- it's just... i didn't like the way the two of you interacted later. you were laughing a lot because of lewis and you kept making jokes with him. and i felt like you were ignoring me and enjoyed more his presence than mine. i don't like when you're close to an other man. i want you just for myself. i know this is selfish and childish because originally you're one of his closest friend but you were giving all of your attention to him instead of me. i was huh... jealous.

you move a bit away just to look at his face. you can see how guilty and hurt he is, like he was begging your pardon through his eyes. this picture breaks your heart in two. sometimes you feel like you don't deserve him.

- ohh my sweet boy... i understand how you feel. you have the right to feel like that. i was having fun with lewis because it's been a long time since we last saw each other and i didn't even think that it could have affected you so much. i'm so sorry love... so sorry. you know i also want to keep you all to myself.

- we're quits i guess.

you laugh softly and hug him. his hands rub your back slowly.

- i just want your precious attention y/n, lando says close to your lips.

- now you'll have it lando, you reply in a grin.

he smiles wide and pulls you closer. god he just loves you so so much, it sometimes hurts. he leans in and kisses you, squeezing your waist as you cup his face in your hands.

and you'll never leave his side, giving him all your attention for the rest of the day. and the rest of the week-end.

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine

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luveline · 5 months

Note

hello lovely, I was wondering if I could ask for a soft remus request. maybe loser!reader where someone made them feel invisible and remus comforts them? I hope that makes sense ily <3

ily ty for requesting!! <3 fem, 1.3k

“Come on, poppet,” Sirius says in one of his teasing tones as he puts a hefty looking glass of pale ale in front of you, “cheer up and get sloshed.”

“Oh, I really don’t want to drink tonight,” you say, surprised he’d get you something.

“That’s for me. This,” —he puts a short glass to the pale ale— “is for you. From him.”

You look up from the dark table to spy said him across the way. Remus stands behind the bar with a relaxed smile, arms holding himself up and biceps just that little bit tight against his sleeves. You send him a shy smile.

It’s an ice cold mix of your favourite. You send him another smile as you drink it, not sure how to cope with the fact that he’s still looking at you when you do. He raises his eyebrows a touch before a customer steals his attention.

“He should really quit,” James says happily. “He’s enabling me.”

You push the bowl of roasted peanuts toward him. “Abstinence,” you say. You’re still feeling wobbly, not quite happy, but better to move forward then dwell on things. Plus, Remus’ nice smile reminds you that he’s on your side.

“Remus gives you a Help to Stop card every time you buy a second round,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes.

“But Marlene lets me drink as much as I want.” James waves at her. She blows him a kiss from the table she’s bussing two chairs over. “Bad place. Takes advantage of me. And there’s too much riff raff.”

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “Right.”

They chat to each other enough to make up for your silence and Remus’ absence. He’ll be off any minute now, joining you for a quick drink if he’s awake enough to manage it before you head home. You can’t bring yourself to watch him, knowing he’ll be chatting, giving pretty girls polite smiles and prettier boys their refills. He can be charismatic when he wants to be. He’s a natural flirt deep down. You hope he doesn’t flirt with other people.

He wouldn’t.

Or maybe he would? You’re not exciting like that.

“Penny for your thoughts, lovely girl?”

He says it quietly, pressing his pet name into the side of your head as he slips into the chair next to yours. Suddenly he’s here. He sneaks up on you too often.

“Not worth the penny,” you murmur back.

“I don’t think that’s true. Do you want another drink? I’ve closed my line, but I–”

You shake your head, not having finished the first one he sent over. He smells like the too sweet cloy of beer, but his breath is minty on your cheek. “Fine, be that way. You make it hard to spoil you.”

“Yuck.”

“Ew,” he agrees. Remus gives the top of your shoulder a gentle shake. “Not feeling well?”

“She was attacked, Moons, I told you this,” Sirius says.

You glare at him as Remus says, “Mm. You okay?”

“I wasn’t attacked, that’s– you know. It was the opposite of an attack. I was–” Ignored. You attempt to shove it down even as the memory surges up, the heat of knowing you’d been deemed a loser, the shrug off, the giggling. “Sirius.”

“What? If I didn’t tell him he would’ve been pissed off with me and you know I can’t afford butter right now. I need my toast fix.”

James and Sirius are nice, good guys, but Remus is the only person who can really make you feel better. He knows it. You all know it. But it’s too embarrassing to divulge the details of what happened. You’d told Sirius and James in a strange flustered panic as you sat down, and you don’t fancy telling the story again.

In the bathroom, there had been a group of girls taking photographs. You didn’t know them, but they were around your age, beautiful, and giggling at not being able to fit in one photograph.

I can take it, you’d offered. That way you can all be in the frame?

One girl smiled at you but the rest didn’t even look up. You know you’d said it loudly. You seem to have this effect on people. Total invisibility.

“Can’t afford butter, can’t afford his own pints,” Remus says, reaching under the table to touch your thigh. His fingertips dig into the softer part of the inner thigh as he brushes downward to your knee. “Next I’ll be paying his rent.”

“It’s the least you could do,” James says. “Do you think they’ll put the rugby on if I ask?”

Remus stands and beckons for you to come with him. “Where are we going?” you ask.

“Home?” He holds out his hand for you to take. “The shop first.”

He twines your fingers and waves to the boys. You’ll see them again in an hour or two when they come home, but as soon as you and Remus leave the pub, you might as well be all alone in the world. It’s dark as pitch despite the early evening hour and twice as cold, wind like needles thrown at your hands. Remus puts his open hand out to pull your empty one into his side. It’s a funny way to walk.

“Are you terribly upset?”

“Mm… no,” you decide.

“James said you,” —his voice turns soft and careful— “looked a little bit welled up. Like you might cry. It’s okay if you were upset.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Dove, if you were to be believed, everything is embarrassing. But you’ve never done anything to be embarrassed of.” You take your hands back. “Oh, except that.”

You laugh as he snatches your hands back, your laughter whipped away with the mean winds as you make your way through the alley that leads to the small corner shop on the way home. “No one sees me like you,” you say.

“People are fucking rude,” he says with a shrug. “They could’ve at least said they were fine.”

“I don’t know if it’s rude–”

“It is–”

“I’m a stranger and they were probably fine without my help. But it was weird to have nobody say anything. It made me feel so silly.”

“If it were you,” Remus says, weight in his words as glances at you from the side, his hair dancing away from his ears, “you would’ve looked them in the eyes and said no, thanks. You would’ve acknowledged them. It’s not kind to treat people like they don’t matter.”

“I don’t matter.”

Your weak tone slows his pace.

“I mean, not to them,” you correct.

Remus slides an arm over your shoulder, humming from his chest. “Yes, you do,” he says, kissing your cheek, “of course you matter. You’re everything to the people who love you. You’re more than that to me. Please don’t think otherwise.” He presses his lips and chin to your temple. “Yeah?” he asks quietly. “You matter, dove, you do.”

“Why does this happen to me so often?” you ask in a similar quiet.

“You’re not like everyone else.” He grins at you. “We’re not like other people. Thank god.” His lips press again to your cheek. “I hope all their pictures turn out shit.”

“Sorry if I’m overreacting.”

“I think you’re underreacting. I think I should go back and have them banned.” Remus gives you one last kiss before he steps back, ushering you down the pavement to the neon lights of the corner shop. “But I’m going to buy you some chocolates instead. Is that alright? Should I go back?”

He starts walking back the way you came. You catch tight to his hand and force him into the shop before he can get too far away.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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cupcakeslushie · 17 days

Note

I know that Hamatos are all really confused about what happened to Donnie, but I can see April getting legitimately pissed and starting down every lead she can find to dig up the truth detective style. Because messing with people and being a bully is one thing, but manipulating and abusing someone enough to change their personality is another. And she messed with HER family. And “you’ve done it now- when I get you I swear to god-“

Not sure if April would find anything but I can see her initial reaction being frustration rather than confusion.

@starrobot96 @snipersiniora

I’m honestly leaning more towards Raph and April having the most intense reactions to what’s been done to Donnie. Raph, because he’s still dealing with his own Krang trauma. So Kendra messing with his little brother, similar to what was done to him. That’s gonna make him want to rip her apart. I don’t think he’d kill her. But Kendra is definitely not getting out of this Scott free.

Raph will more than likely be leading the charge in Donnie’s rescue, because I don’t think he would go with them willingly, and Raph’s not about to make Leo or Mikey be the one to drag Don away while he’s screaming and resisting. Raph would take that role solely onto himself.

Leo is way out of his comfort zone. During the actual search, he’s more serious than he’s been since the invasion. Thinking that everything will be okay once they can just get Donnie home. But when they do, one desperate, good-natured joke has Donnie terrified of even looking at Leo. From then on, Leo makes that distance bigger, by avoiding Donnie, scared of setting of another panic attack. Even when Donnie starts to reach out, Leo is now hesitant to say anything. That was their whole type of sibling dynamic, ribbing and joking with each other. But now Donnie is like a stranger.

Mikey really hammers away with the toxic positivity. It’s not his fault. He’s just so out of his depth. He’s not a baby, but this is intense stuff. Trauma that he always steered away from in his Dr. Feeling research. But now that knowledge is necessary…looking into it really takes a toll on his own mental well being, bad enough that Splinter sees and puts a stop to it.

April is frustrated with her own investigative ability, and feels guilty, because Kendra wouldn’t have even known about Donnie, if she hadn’t asked him to come by her school. We know, that’s more than likely NOT true, as the boys run into criminals all the time, but April isn’t thinking logically.

Im still not sure about the exact how’s of Donnie’s rescue, but April will probably be the one he latches onto most in the aftermath. The fake simulations with her, were never as bad as the ones with his brothers (ie physically painful) so even though he would be scared to talk to her, and be seen as annoying, Donnie will let her get the closest to help him. He goes from trying to desperately please Kendra, to trying to desperately please April, and it makes her insanely uncomfortable. But she doesn’t want to scare him off when he’s not giving any of them many openings to help. She has to be very careful with walking that line between helping Donnie recover, and making things worse by enabling all of Kendra’s programming.

April’s really gonna carry the brunt of Donnie’s recovery.

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #kendratello au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise april #rise raph #rise kendra #rise leo #rise mikey #tw brainwashing #tw emotional manipulation #tw emotional distress #tw implied sa #kendratello au ask

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astroboots · 11 months

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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deramin2 · 4 months

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Laudna going through a spiral about whether Ashton is a bad person because he wanted the power of both shards and did something stupidly dangerous to do it vs. Laudna deliberately feeding Delilah by using Hunger of the Shadow on Bor'Dor and Willmaster Edmuda.

Absolutely love it. Girl please keep projecting your worst fears about yourself and destructive habits on your friends and get scared of them without ever stepping back and assessing your own actions, it is delicious.

Bonus points that Imogen and Laudna are the biggest enablers of each other and not at all inclined to check each other's negative behaviors. Imogen still has a healthy fear about her powers, though, especially right now.

Meanwhile Laudna is still convinced that Orym is fine and the stable one while no one questions how Orym got Hex or that he's willingly using Ludinus' Quintessence Array to drain Edmuda of her life force. A totally normal stable good guy thing to do. Definitely no nosedive here. Although Laudna is irritated at him for pressuring everyone to keep going and not back down, and that he got the Quintessence Array use and not her. (Because again, she is trying to feed her own need for power.)

Somehow Fearne is the only one who's beginning to think they all might be going too far and getting scared, but they're not really listening to her. She saw her potential to become Dark Fearne and actually reevaluated her life. (Even if she's still a chaos being.)

Bell's Hells are great because they're like NPCs who ended up as the B-Team who keeps happening to be in the right place at the right time to be in the middle of all these events leading to this cataclysmic events that are so much bigger than they are. It's FUN that it's happening faster than they can recon with it and they're getting more and more desperate to not go under in a way that is actually making them go under faster.

They're seeing it in each other but not in themselves. That's the tragedy. They're so desperate to win it doesn't matter at what cost anymore. They're all just competing to see who can sacrifice themselves for the cause first while dragging their enemies down with them. They're going to end up being the monsters someone else has to fight, even though they kept trying to do good and fight the darkness.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role meta #critical role campaign 3 #Bell's Hells #Laudna Critical Role #Delilah Briarwood #Orym of the Air Ashari #ashton greymoore #imogen temult #fearne calloway

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giamee · 1 year

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𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝟐 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: blade x reader ; sampo x reader ; gepard x reader ; dan heng x reader ; jing yuan x reader ; luocha x reader

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: writing this as a quick lil thing because i just finished school and i want to like,,, pay homage to the crushes ive had on my classmates LMAO this is so self indulgent i'm delulu... gonna miss seeing them in the hallways ,,, this one kinda mid i wrote it on my phone while half asleep AND ITS EXAM SEASON RAHHHHHH

୨♡୧ contains: modern!school!au, fem!reader sorry, most definitely ooc because these are based off of real people oops, just cute lil crushes man feel free to judge my taste in men !

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

-he's in your biology class, but not close enough to really get to talk to him

-you're not sure what to make of him, but you see him in the gym a few times when you're there as well

-his stony exterior, however, is shattered in your eyes when you enter the gym one day to find it empty other than just him in there, blasting his playlist out loud

-out of all of the possible genres he could he listening to, you weren't expecting a drill remix of anime osts

-you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips from what you're witnessing, and blade freezes upon hearing it before whipping his head round to face you like a deer in headlights

-he scrambles to turn it off as you set up at a squat rack, and it's almost endearing to see such a stoic classmate look so flustered

-you almost felt bad for the guy, and you hesitated before asking blade if he could spot for you

-and just like that, the ice was officially broken

-the two of you talked more frequently now, even becoming sort of friends through your shared class and the gym

-more frequent talks gave way to the more intimate aspects of blade's personality- as it turned out, he was quite touchy

-lingering touches when spotting you in the gym turned to his leg pressed against yours when you sit next to each other- leaning into your personal space a little too close to call it casual, and the bastard enjoyed the way you got flustered when his face got near to yours and the way that people looked at the pair of you and whispers, rumours, started to fly

-"if you keep sitting that close to me, people are going to think that we're dating," you huffed at him

-blade didn't even glance up from his phone that he was scrolling through with one hand, the other resting against the back of your chair

-"good." you were glad that he didn't look up to see the way that your eyes widened and you turned your head to the side to hide the giddy smile that was creeping onto your face

-and despite you enabling this, all the harmless flirting, there was some unquellable part of you that screamed to be set free and hoped for something more. that when he made you look him in the eyes with a finger under your chin, he wasn't just doing it to tease you

-there was undeniably something going on between the two of you, but there was also the unspoken mutual decision to not mention it

-and so you resigned your self to the realm of just friends. it would be easier this way, to move on without any ties before uni

-yet on the last day, you found him scrawling his phone number in your yearbook with a demand to stay in touch, and it left you looking down at the inked digits with the thing in your chest set free, telling you that your feelings might just be reciprocated

𓆩♡𓆪 SAMPO

-your deskmate in chemistry because of a stupid seating plan that didn't change the entire year

-you've never really spoken before, but he's well-known for being rowdy

-his friends sit nearby, and most of his conversations consisted of talking to them loudly while leaning across your desk, while you try to balance your chemical equations

-other than that, you keep to yourselves mostly

-it isn't until your chemistry teacher is going on a tiresome rant about the bohr effect that you shift your attention away from the board, your eyes instead focusing on sampo and the pen in his hands as he twirled it through his fingers effortlessly

-you nudged him slightly, pointing to his hand and mouthing at him "how do you do that?"

-sampo smirks, leaning in closer to you and keeping his voice at a low whisper to avoid alerting your chemistry teacher

-"so you hold the end like this..." sampo whispers to you, demonstrating with the end of his pen. you nod and try not to think about how small the pen looks compared to his fingers, fixing your grip

-"and then you hold it loose, and flick it around your thumb" sampo demonstrates it effortlessly, catching the pen in his hand and smiling at you

-you concentrate on your own, feeling his gaze against the side of your face instilling slight tremors in your hand

-you attempt the spin, watching as the pen teeters before falling and landing on your desk with a clatter

-you hear sampo snort beside you, and your teacher whips his head around and fixes the pair of you with a glare

-"am i interrupting something?" you and sampo both snapped your attention back towards your teacher as he looked at you both pointedly before continuing with his lecture

-you braved a peek at your deskmate, seeing the way his eyes were stubbornly facing forwards while a slight smirk adorned his face

-it became almost a ritual for you to attempt sampo's stupid pen trick each lesson

-it looked so simple, you didn't get how you were still struggling to do it, and your focus was pretty much anywhere except on the lesson

-sampo watched on in idle amusement at your frustration, sometimes demonstrating it to you again just to rub it in before getting elbowed by you

-besides him poking fun at you, there was also a sweeter side to sampo

-there was a day where you had forgotten to wear your contacts, and were effectively blind the entire day

-despite being nearer to the front, you couldn't even read the board when you squinted

-you ended up asking sampo to read what was on the board to you, and with an exaggerated sigh he did so, whispering the words to you in the same low voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up

-"you owe me, you know," he told you jokingly, pointing at your homework

-you rolled your eyes, sliding it over to him

-"i don't know why you think that the answers will be right, but sure"

-"hey, at least you did the homework"

-uhhhh idrk how to end this SORRY

-you guys got along well and then the year finished and you weren't in the same class any more

-whenever you see him in the corridors you smile at each other though

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

-he sits in the seat opposite from you in your english class

-you can't help zoning out when the lesson gets boring, and more often than not that results in you inadvertedly staring at gepard until you snap back to reality and realise that you've locked eyes with him, resulting in both of you hastily looking away with pink dusting both of your cheeks

-it's hard not to look at his handsome face, and your wandering eyes often get drawn to him against your will

-the sun hits his hair just right from the window behind him, and he looks like an angel with a halo when he's concentrating with a furrowed brow and taking notes about chaucer

-he's not too bad of a person to be sat across, in short

-you see gepard from time to time in the library, and by luck's draw, one of the only free seats in a particularly busy hour ends up being next to him

-he glances up when you place your books down, shooting you a quick smile before turning back to his own work

-you're about to put on your headphones and start revising, but you catch the faint melody of an ice spice song blasting from gepard, oblivious to the world

-it takes a lot of self control to not burst out laughing in the middle of the library, but you text this information to your friend instead while biting back a smile

-she responds after a few seconds with a link to gepard's spotify account, telling you to take a look through his playlists

-risking a glance at gepard, still heavily focusing on his work, you click on the link and begin to scroll through his account

-you find yourself growing more and more blown away by his music choice

-someone who was so serious and stoic didn't seem like the type to have one of the most insane tastes in music you've ever seen, but you liked it

-it offered you a more human side to his aloof self

-when you saw him start to subconsciously mouth the words in time with ice spice, though, that's when you snorted a little

-and when gepard looked up at you in confusion, you waved him off

-maybe you would try talk to him after class more

𓆩♡𓆪 DAN HENG

-although he doesn't share a lesson with you, dan heng actually takes the same bus to get home from school

-you have a tendency to oversleep in the mornings, so you've never had the opportunity to realise this as the buses you take arrive at school minutes before the bell

-and after school, you can leave as soon as lessons finish, and your differing timetables kept you apart as well

-but after a day at the library in school, you ended up getting a bus nearer to the end of the day rather than your usual time

-because of this, you found that most of the other students at your school were getting this first bus back, and a lot less of the seats were available

-you scanned the seats, searching for an empty spot when you got on, and you saw dan heng sat on his own, looking out the window with his earphones in

-you recognised him as a guy in your year and headed to where he sat, gripping your bag tighter for emotional support

-"could i sit here?" you spoke before realising that he probably couldn't hear you over the sound of his music, and you hesitated before tapping him on the shoulder

-his attention snapped to you before he shuffled slightly, leaving you with ample space to take a seat

-you didn't talk much, feeling self conscious of your feed as you scrolled through your phone next to dan heng, waiting for the stop where you would get your second bus

-you were lucky that you were sat closer to the aisle, and didn't have to make things more awkward by asking him to get up too

-you pressed the button to stop the bus, picking up your bag and getting off

-but to your surprise, as you looked behind you to check if it was clear to cross the road, you saw that dan heng had gotten off of the bus as well

-which wasn't too weird, really. there were plenty of other buses to take from here

-yet your suspicions were confirmed as you realised that you and dan heng were headed for the same bus, stopping in the same queue with him just behind you

-normally you would keep to yourself, but you must have been feeling extra talkative that day because you decide to strike up a conversation with him

-"so you take this bus as well?"

-dan heng nodded, taking out an earphone to better hear you as you both waited for the bus

-"yeah, in the morning too"

-"i'm guessing the early one? i always miss it because i sleep in"

-dan heng smiles and shrugs

-"maybe you should go to sleep earlier, then"

-"yeah, maybe"

-the pair of you talk a bit, and despite his appearance dan heng is actually quite fun to talk to, though he moreso tends to listen to you rant and occasionally provides some input, which seems to suit you both just fine

-come next morning, you found yourself waking up a little easier than usual, getting ready and leaving your house earlier than usual

-and as a result, you managed to catch the early bus

-you spotted his cropped dark hair almost as soon as you got on, and decided to sidle up to him again

-dan heng spotted you this time, though, and even offered you a smile as he pulled put his earphones as youvsat down next to him

-"so i'm guessing that you slept earlier, huh?"

-if it meant getting to talk to him more, you'd be in bed before it even got dark

-but he didn't have to know that

𓆩♡𓆪 JING YUAN

-he's that one guy in the year who's just universally loved, by teachers and students alike

-he's warm, he's studious, he's head boy, and he's practically everyone's friend

-it's not uncommon to see plenty of the girls in your year go up to him to try and flirt, and for others to look on in jealousy at their attempts

-and despite everyone's best efforts, jing yuan remained single

-as much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but get a crush on him, just like every other girl in the year

-your heart beats out of your chest when you walk past him in the corridor and he gives you a smile and nod

-your knees feel weak when you see him in the library studying, his handsome face scrunched in concentration

-and though you may only be observing from afar, you're completely content with that

𓆩♡𓆪 LUOCHA

-luocha is a friend of yours that you made pretty recently

-there's a quiet charm to him that leaves you feeling at ease, and you've found it incredibly comforting to be in his presence when revising for exams

-even though he's a man of few words, he's managed to keep you as grounded as you can be during the stress of your last days of school before it's over

-it all came to an emotional headway at prom night

-you had been drinking a little, and with the night coming to an end the realisation that you wouldn't be seeing most of the people here again had you feeling teary eyed

-luocha found you on the dancefloor, pulling you towards him without a word and letting you just cling onto his suit as you both swayed in time to the slower song

-you let the soothing scent of him wash over you as you started to wind down at the end of the night, and you felt one of his gentle hands resting on your back as you began to wind your arms around his neck too

-"it was nice to know you," you mumbled to him, voice muffled by the material of his suit

-you felt luocha's grip on you tighten almost imperceptibly, a sign that he had heard you regardless

-"you can still know me" he murmured, and in your hazy state of mind you relaxed into him even further

-"that would be nice"

-as prom came to an end and after you had gotten over the air of finality, the pain from wearing your heels all night was beginning to kick in

-your car was parked a while away and while you did want to just go home, the prospect of taking another step was making you wince

-luocha was quick to notice your hesitance, and before you even said anything he was crouching down in front of you, telling you to "get on" which you gratefully did

-his warm hands wrapped securely around your thighs, supporting your weight as you told luocha where to go

-he made it to your car effortlessly, letting you down carefully and even opening your own car door for you

-you giggled at him being a gentleman as you got behind the wheel, smiling up at him with a bittersweet pang in your heart

-"thanks for everything, luocha"

-the man hesitated for a second, before returning your smile

-"any time"

-he ducked down, leaning in closer to you, and you felt yourself inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around you, encasing you in a last embrace before you would part ways for the last time

-"keep in touch, okay?"

-"okay"

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

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