#i was devastated. i truly felt like i was Growing Up

[creatediana]

Miley Cyrus is thirty, and I used to think that sounded old but now it just sounds thirty. Hannah Montana was my first pop icon—or obsession. I remember my shoes, my shirts with her teenage face printed on with that flimsy wig—I wanted one just like it, or of my own. Just wanted to be someone different and older. And I'm twenty-four now and I still haven't dyed my hair blonde. Still a redhead, I'm afraid, but that made my dead grandmother very proud. I remember that 3D concert movie in third grade premiering in theaters. You know I wore my favorite shoes to it. I had to. How could I go out to the live Hannah Montana experience without those dirty white sneakers with a cheap gold paint? My prized possessions. And she sang the first song she ever wrote, "I Miss You," for her grandfather, and I just thought: Wow, what a big girl, who can do so much, make her own music, sing it in front of millions, and who has experienced so much. Now it seems like not all that much to me. When Meet Miley Cyrus came out as a double-album with Hannah Montana 2, you know I was blasting it in my bedroom, singing and dancing to those songs like I wrote 'em. Like they were mine. I suppose they still are, and so were Bangerz and Dead Petz for me in high school, and Younger Now when I was eighteen, a legal adult but a little baby, but supposedly not "stuck in East Northumberland High for the rest of my life"— I guess people do change. But did I really? And did Miley really? Surely she did, she has, over and over again. Changed genres, sounds, and looks. Supposedly so have I. I wear bras now, at least when I go out in public, but Miley also taught me what nipple pasties are. You see? She's an icon, a legend and an educator, a role model but never wanted to be one, was never old enough to be one when she was forced to be. Miley Cyrus is thirty, and I'm twenty-four. Now she says we used to be young. Can't deny that that's true. The years go by, though, and we're still in our same skins, with new cells, with changed voices, but still singing.

"Miley Cyrus is Thirty" - an ekphrastic free verse of "Used to be Young" (2023) by Miley Cyrus, written 8/26/2023

#free verse #2023 #ekphrasis #ekphrastic poetry #free meter #stream of consciousness #miley cyrus #hannah montana #nostalgia #used to be young #pop culture #ive had the first three lines of this poem rattling in my mind for awhile but they never really took form until today #poem #poetry #my miley cyrus anecdotes go on and on and on ill have you know #i have so many memories w miley that this poem feels like it still doesnt do her justice but who knows #i could write a sequel. or maybe i never will #but hannah montana premiered when i was in first grade. and i got my first period the same month it ended #you can only imagine the emotional effect that had on sixth grade me #i was devastated. i truly felt like i was Growing Up #and i still am and so is miley. good for us #but also we've sure cried a lot in that time haven't we?

[buckybabesonly]

Heart of Glass

Summary: You hate it when Bucky is mad, but it's a thousand times worse when you're the one he's mad at.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecation, self-harm (?)

A/N: I love stories like these so thought I'd take a stab at it. Please do leave feedback, they are always encouraging!

Length: 4.8k

It had taken Bucky a long time to open up to you. His journey of being able to face what he had done as the Winter Soldier was long and arduous, and still ongoing. He had vivid nightmares, ones which alleviated in frequency over the course of the last few years, but which still sometimes made an unwelcome appearance.

His own healing was a work in progress, so it was no surprise that it was still a struggle for him to divulge certain aspects to you. He found it difficult letting himself be vulnerable, even around people he trusted, and insight into his past had been offered to you in scattered pieces.

You had been patient, although you wished that Bucky would feel comfortable revealing more. You never judged him, and you just wanted to help and do your part in the recovery process, if you could. It was much worse hearing the exacerbated, hateful stories of the Winter Soldier from other people’s mouths - the Internet was a horrid place, and whilst there were still a lot of people who supported Bucky Barnes and the Avengers in general, there were just as many people who would not forgive him for being the Winter Soldier.

You knew that you shouldn’t have done what you did. You and Bucky had been together for just over a year, friends for three times that long. It hadn’t all been flowers and rainbows - it had been a tumultuous relationship and you had had your ups and downs, but at the end of the day, you knew you had found your person. You were both learning and growing together, navigating the tougher obstacles in your relationship with enthusiasm. You had finally found someone you were truly madly in love with, and you felt so lucky.

It wasn’t easy, working for S.H.I.E.L.D as an agent which was a demanding career in itself, and dating someone who was almost in constant danger and carrying out often life-threatening missions. But you made it work. Getting to love Bucky and have him love you back was worth anything, and you loved being able to see him smile and, what’s more, being his reason to smile.

On the same token, you hated seeing him unhappy. It was the most devastating feeling in the world, in times when he was disappointed in himself, or when he had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare, or after one of his mandated therapy sessions. 

The worst thing was seeing him mad. And it’s a thousand times worse when you’re the one he’s mad at.

You knew that you shouldn’t have done it. You felt guilty as you passed your colleagues desk and your eyes naturally flickered to a familiar name in recognition. BARNES, JAMES BUCHANAN.

You frowned slightly, realizing that his file was on a pile alongside a couple of other familiar names. It wasn’t unusual for another agent to have his file out, particularly if he was looking into specific incidents that Bucky may have been involved in the past, but you had never actually seen it in front of you before.

Of course, it would have been easy for you to find the file and look for yourself. Everything had electronic copies these days, or you could have grabbed the physical copies from the archive. But you had never done it, as it just didn’t feel right. Reading up on your boyfriend’s past like his life was a history book.

Still, despite yourself, you paused. You found your hand reaching out and you took a deep breath of momentary hesitation before you flicked open the file. 

An assortment of photos and documents were stacked neatly inside. You couldn’t help it as you found your eyes consuming the information, flicking from page to page. The guilt was building in your gut the longer you spent, standing slightly crouched over the desk, consuming the information with an uncomfortable lump in your throat.

You wanted to cry. You felt your hate for HYDRA increase ten-fold, thinking about all the pain they inflicted on Bucky to manipulate him into their own personal killing machine, thinking about how they had simply made him hurt all those people. Bucky often had the most stoic, cool exterior, but you knew inside he was just your soft, gentle boyfriend. The most beautiful man you knew had been forced to be an assassin against his will.

And now he had to live with the consequences. It’s so unfair, you thought as tears of anger pricked your eyes. You were a very empathetic person, especially when it came to him, and you found yourself feeling quietly furious.

You slammed the file shut, conflicted emotions making you feel both angry and guilty. You always had an idea of what HYDRA had made Bucky do, of course, but actually consuming the detail within his file had made it come to life in your mind. All you wanted during the course of your time with Bucky was to get a better view from his shoes, if only to help you relate a bit more to his suffering. You loved him so much and you wanted nothing more than to help him.

At the same time, you knew it wasn’t right, snooping like this. You always told yourself to just wait, and eventually Bucky would trust you enough to share everything. 

You started to wonder if you had done something wrong as you slowly walked away from the desk, nibbling your bottom lip. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, frowning as the contents of the file plagued your mind. You decided you would have to come clean to Bucky about this.

“What?” Bucky said quietly, cocking his head to the side as if he really had genuinely misheard you. However, as you studied the look in his eyes, you knew that he had heard every word.

“I know it was wrong. Bucky, I’m - “

“If you knew it was wrong, then why did you do it?” Bucky interrupted, his eyebrows drawing together as he frowned. Anger was starting to distort his face, and he kept his voice quiet and low.

You were mute for a long minute, your cheeks flushing as he stared at you, waiting for you to speak. You were both stood in your bedroom, you with your back against the window and his against the door. The distance between you felt painful.

“Do you know what a violation of my privacy that is?” he continued when you didn’t speak, his jaw twitching.

“I was just trying to - just trying to understand,” you said, trying to find the right words. “I just thought that if I knew what they did to you, then I could help you.”

“How would you be able to help?” Bucky was furious, but in that quiet, almost calm way that frightened you the most. His brow was slightly furrowed, corners of lips turned down into a frown, but the biggest giveaway was his clenched fists. They were shaking almost impercetibly.

It was scarier when he didn’t raise his voice, and your fingers twitched uncomfortably by your sides, wanting to reach out to him.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I thought that if I could understand what happened, then maybe I could help with your nightmares, help talk to you about the past.”

Bucky exhaled loudly, shaking his head. “Are you my therapist? What were you hoping to do, read my entire past and diagnose me?” He regarded you with a look of bewilderment and fury.

“No, I - “

“No, listen,” Bucky said, frustration rising in his throat, breaking his barely composed facade. “Do you have any idea how messed up that is? There’s a reason why I didn’t tell you everything at my own pace, and you went behind my back and fucking investigated me? How do you think that makes me feel? You couldn’t even respect me enough to let me tell you out of my own choice!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You knew you had fucked up majorly. He was glaring at you, waiting for you to say something.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I really didn’t have any bad intentions, I just - “

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky spat out. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t have any bad intentions. You think I’m proud of what I did as the fucking Winter Soldier? It haunts me, and I have to live with him for the rest of my fucking life. I - I trusted you, and you betrayed it.”

I let out a slight whimper at his words, knowing the venomous words he was spitting out was completely true. 

“I have to fight so hard, every day, not to fall apart with the knowledge and memories of what the Winter Soldier did, what I did.” 

“Bucky, please,” you said, taking a step forward, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that, I am so, so sorry.”

Bucky shook his head, moving away from me and lifting his hands as a warning. “Don’t. Just - don’t.”

He turned his back, making to leave. 

“Can we just talk about this?” you asked desperately, not wanting him to go. You were terrified that he wouldn’t come back.

“I need some space,” Bucky said sharply without turning to look back at you. He left and pulled the door shut with such force that you jumped, tears finally escaping.

You had no idea how you were going to fix this.

Bucky and you had one rule. Never go to bed angry at each other.

It was a rule you had instigated. You hated going to bed whilst you were in the throes of a fight, and the first time you had argued - something petty, really - you had pouted at Bucky and demanded that you make up. 

He was relieved at that time as it was such a silly fight and he was anxious that you would give him the silent treatment. But he laughed as you jumped into his arms, kissing his cheek and letting him know all was forgiven.

“New rule - we can’t go to bed angry at each other,” you had announced at the time.

“Yes, my liege,” Bucky had responded.

Bucky wasn’t answering your calls or texts. You left 15 voicemails and 24 text messages, all apologizing and asking him to talk. You knew you should give him space, as it was only fair for him to digest what had happened and process, but you felt like you couldn’t function.

You wanted him by your side so you could apologize over and over again and tell him, genuinely, how regretful you were.

There was no excuse. Your face was tear-stained and eyes puffy as you paced your apartment, the clock having struck midnight a long time ago, with no sight of Bucky.

When four AM rolled round, you finally passed out on the couch whilst waiting for him. When your alarm rudely woke you up at seven, you startled and immediately ran into the bedroom, although you knew he wouldn’t be there.

The bed was empty, still made from the previous morning and untouched.

You could cry all over again.

You hurried to get ready nonetheless, and made your way to the Avengers Tower. You were involved in some S.H.I.E.L.D projects that were being hosted there, and you knew it was the place Bucky was most likely to be.

You checked your phone obsessively on the way to the Tower. No calls or messages from Bucky.

You groaned internally. He had never ignored you like this before. The gravity of the situation was slowly growing heavier and heavier - he was your Bucky, the one who always took care of you and worried over you and was by your side almost 24/7 whenever he wasn’t out on a mission, but now he was actively avoiding you. 

More and more fear started to creep into the mix alongside the guilt. Would Bucky leave you over this?

When you arrived at the Tower, you expected it to be a lot harder to find him than it was. But he was in the training room, the first place you looked.

“Bucky,” you said quietly as soon as you saw him. He was serving blows mercilessly to a punching bag hung from the ceiling, as if he needed the practice. You knew he was letting off steam. He was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty tendrils, his face slightly red. 

Bucky barely even flinched. He didn’t acknowledge you at all, eyes never leaving the bag in front of him.

“Can we talk?” you asked tentatively. 

No response.

“Bucky, if you don’t reply, I’m just going to start talking at you, and I really don’t want to do that,” you said. All you wanted him to do was at least look at you.

Bucky stopped then and you heaved a sigh of relief. But instead of speaking, he simply wrapped a towel around his shoulders and turned his back on you, leaving out of the door on the other side of the room.

You felt rocks fall to the bottom of your stomach, and the urge to cry reared its ugly head yet again.

Bucky hadn’t spoken to you for two days. He hadn’t returned to your apartment for two days.

You had cried all of those days. You tried to find him and corner him to make him face you, but after that day in the training room, he had really been avoiding you. You had only seen him once in those two days, and he immediately disappeared as soon as he saw you.

It hurt so much. Like someone had stabbed you and, what’s more, was twisting the handle. 

You knew you deserved it. You had really hurt Bucky, but part of you was still terrified of what he would do. How long would he wait until he decided to speak to you again? Was he going to break up with you?

You didn’t know how to fix it. You were ashamed to tell Sam, even though you wanted to ask his advice on what to do. You had done something so bad that you didn’t want to face his disappointment, too, although you were certain Bucky may have already told him.

Still, it hurt so bad. All you wanted Bucky to do was hug you and tell you it was alright, instead you were met with indifference and the back of his head. He wouldn’t even look at you. 

You would rather he shouted at you, screamed at you, anything to actually make him talk and acknowledge your existence. But he continued to ice you out, and your heart was breaking.

Bucky knew he loved you even before you officially became a couple. He loved how funny you were, how hard working you were, how you always listened to his side of the story, how you took care of him and patiently explained anything to him that he still didn’t quite understand about the modern world.

There were a lot of great women, but to Bucky, you had stood out. From day one, you had cared about him. Little things, like asking about his favorite songs from the 40s, making sure his head was covered with your umbrella when it was raining even though your shoulder was getting wet, ensuring he got three solid meals a day and that his favorite snacks were stored in the pantry.

Bigger things, too, like letting him share the burden of his past with you without ever a word of judgment or disdain, encouraging him to visit his parents’ grave on the anniversary of their death and making the journey with him, sharing memories of Steve whenever Bucky was missing him. You were his rock, and he felt like he had mined the most precious diamond.

He knew he could tell you anything, but his sordid past as the Winter Soldier was still something he was trying to overcome himself. He was ashamed, and part of him was worried that you would suddenly think less of him. See him as the monster that he used to be, the monster that he sometimes saw himself as.

He hated the thought of poisoning your mind with unsavory images of himself and the knowledge of what he had done.

He was so angry to know that you saw his file. But the majority of his feelings came from the fact that he was so laden with guilt. He didn’t want you to know the ugly truth when all you had seen of him so far was the better version of himself that he was trying to be.

How could he forget his past when you knew every disgusting detail now, too? When you had now also seen the faces of all the people he had killed?

At the same time, he believed you when you said you were just trying to help. That was just your nature. He knew that you genuinely thought if you understood, you could offer assistance and ease his silent torment.

But anger prevailed, and he found himself ignoring you for days, even though he felt so immature doing it. He just couldn’t face you right now, even as you stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He could barely avoid meeting your gaze and instead chose to turn away completely, as if pretending you weren’t there would alleviate the pain. He was afraid that if he looked at you a little too long, his resolve would shatter.

It was exceptionally poor timing that your birthday rolled around after five days of total radio silence from Bucky. You had forgotten, actually, until you entered the Tower and a fellow agent had wished you a happy birthday. 

You gave her a weak smile as you muttered some made up plans about how you would be celebrating. 

You wanted to burst out crying when you saw Bucky that morning, in the kitchen at the Tower.

He was leaning against the kitchen island, a smile on his face, a smile you hadn’t seen for almost a week. He was talking to an agent, a decent girl you had worked with before. You liked her, actually, as did a lot of people. He was talking to her about something, looking more relaxed than you had seen him since you had the fight.

He hadn’t noticed you as you observed the two of them. You didn’t think anything flirtatious was going on, but still, it hurt to see him smiling softly at someone else when he hadn’t paid you any attention for so long.

Part of you wasn’t sure if Bucky was going to speak to you today. But it was your birthday, after all - he always made a big deal out of it, asking you what you wanted to do and making sure you got a cake and flowers and all the romantic works. He always told you that you were his greatest gift, and so he couldn’t miss celebrating the day that you were brought into the world.

If he didn’t speak to you today, you think you would be sick.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize the agent Bucky was talking to was leaving, and as she walked past you, you felt Bucky’s eyes on you. You met his gaze hesitantly, blinking wordlessly.

He paused, and you could almost see the gears turning in his brain as he decided what to do.

His smile dissipated, and he turned his back on you.

When you returned home that night, you cried your eyes out. You sat on the couch forlornly, staring at the door, half-expecting him to burst through at any moment with an apology and kisses waiting to be pressed onto your lips.

Midnight struck, and you went to bed alone.

Six days.

Bucky had not spoken to you in six days, and honestly, he felt like shit.

He had never been so angry at you before, but he was surprised at himself that his silent streak had lasted so long. To be honest, the time had passed quickly, as he had kept himself as busy as possible. 

As Bucky came down from his angry high, the feeling of guilt and sadness overwhelmed him at the thought of you being unhappy. He knew that this period of time would be tough on you, although he stood by his point that you should not have read his file behind his back, especially as you knew how sensitive he was about his past.

And yet, ultimately, he recalled that you only had his best interests at heart, even if you were going about it the wrong way. He sighed as he approached the Tower elevator, stepping inside just as Sam came running down the hallway, shouting at him to hold.

Bucky stabbed the close door button repeatedly, cursing as Sam slid past just in the nick of time, punching him playfully.

“You in a mood, princess?” he snickered, taking note of the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes. “You been up all night with your girl?”

Bucky let out a tsk. He sighed as the elevator descended.

“No. Haven’t spoken to her actually,” he admitted.

“Woah, wait. What do you mean?” Sam asked when he realized Bucky was being serious.

“Had a fight,” Bucky said reluctantly.

Sam frowned lightly. “On her birthday?”

Bucky froze as he opened his mouth to clarify that the fight had began a few days ago. His mind racked to confirm today’s date.

Shit. It was your birthday yesterday.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky said, head lolling back to bash against the glass elevator wall. 

“You okay, man?” Sam asked, clearly concerned.

“I messed up,” he sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, now he wanted to cry. How could he do this to you? He was already beginning to feel like he’d gone overboard with his reaction as the days passed and the red haze of anger dissolved from his eyes, clouding his better judgment, but now he truly felt like he had gone about everything so wrongly. 

You had always gone on about the importance of communication in a relationship, and how you both needed to work together to overcome any challenges, and that one of the things you valued the most was being open and honest.

He imagined you sat alone at home, on your birthday, waiting expectantly for him to turn up. 

His chest hurt.

You lay down in bed as the sun set, darkness filling the room.

You had the covers over your head as the tears wet your pillow, your head hurting so much from all the crying and dehydration.

Your world was truly coming down around you. You were about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to you. Bucky was going to leave you, and it was your fault. The past few days had really unveiled your most deep rooted fear, that the love of your life was going to abandon you.

“You’re so stupid,” you whispered to yourself. “So stupid. So fucking stupid.”

You ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone. Your friends had been calling you since your birthday yesterday, concerned that you hadn’t picked up even once. You didn’t care. If Bucky wasn’t here, then you just wanted to be alone.

You always knew you weren’t good enough for him. Always knew that he would leave you eventually. Out of all the people in the world, what on earth would make him choose you?

You threw the covers off of you as a new surge of rage overwhelmed you. 

“You are so fucking stupid!” you screamed out loud, letting the anger seep through your body, expel through your lungs. You stormed over to your mirror and punched the glass once, twice, until it cracked and sliced your knuckles, blood trickling immediately over your hand.

Bucky was going to leave you. 

Your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the floor, head hanging as tears dripped down onto the carpet. 

“So stupid,” you continued in a whisper. “So useless, so stupid, so -”

“What the fuck are you doing?” came a loud voice, and your head snapped up with such speed that your head spun.

Bucky was standing in the open doorway, expression aghast as he took in the sight of you. Red, swollen eyes, bleeding hand, sitting in front of the broken mirror.

“Bucky,” you said weakly, voice trembling. He had come back to break up with you.

You always knew he would do it eventually. Your relationship was too good to be true.

“Oh my god,” Bucky hissed as he darted forward, moving down on his knees to join you and gently lifting your wounded hand. “What have you done?”

You started to cry again, feeling so pathetic. Bucky shook his head, eyes frantic.

“No, no, no, doll, please don’t cry,” he said, his voice softening.

“I’m sorry,” you garbled, voice thick with guilt. “I know I fucked up, I know. I’m so sorry Bucky. Please don’t leave me.”

The desperation in your voice broke Bucky’s heart. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could without hurting you, pressing his lips against the top of your head.

“Listen to me. I’m not going to leave you,” he said firmly. He pulled back and studied your face carefully, trying to keep his voice steady for your sake. “I need to patch you up, okay?”

You sniffled, nodding once before he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared with a first aid kit, kneeling down once more and inspecting your hand.

“Why did you do that, doll?” he murmured, a pained look in his eyes as he began to clean you up. It wasn’t a serious injury, just a scratch compared to some of the other battle wounds you had received in the past, but the idea that you had done that to yourself made Bucky so sad.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I’m just - I don’t know. I’m so angry at myself. Please will you forgive me? For everything?”

Bucky’s eyes welled up as he paused with his tending to your hand, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying. You were the most important person in the world to him and he had been pushing you away, had completely forgotten your birthday, and you had hurt yourself because of him when all you wanted was to help him.

“I forgive you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” you insisted as he resumed cleaning your wound. You could see his eyes were wet, and you were nonplussed at why that would be.

“Yes, there is,” Bucky said, wearing a look of shame that you didn’t understand. “I know that your heart is always in the right place. Instead of talking to you about it, I just shut you out. No matter how angry I was, I shouldn’t have done that. I hurt you.”

He worked quickly, bandaging your hand and slowly holding your wrist after. His solemn blue eyes finally met yours.

“I love you so much. I should have stayed to talk, but I just… left. I shouldn't have done that.” He took a deep breath. “I walked away because I couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing everything. Knowing all the people I’ve killed - some of them innocent people. Read about how cold I was, the - the complete lack of mercy I showed. I am a monster.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, lifting your good hand to tenderly touch his face. You were hesitant, as if you were afraid he would withdraw from your touch. Instead, he leaned against your palm, eyes closed. He turned to press a kiss into your hand.

“I thought - “ you began, taking a deep breath at the insecurity and uncertainty that still plagued you. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

Bucky’s eyes opened to stare at you forlornly, as if hurt that you would even have this thought.

“Never,” he said firmly. “You have no idea how much I have missed you.”

You launched yourself into his arms then, willing Bucky’s strong arms to encircle you. He did just that, holding you close as you sobbed quietly into his shoulder. 

“Let me make it up to you, okay?” Bucky murmured. “Belated birthday celebration.”

“It’s enough that you’re here,” you whispered.

You still had a lot to talk about, but you felt so much better now that Bucky was standing by your side again. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

#bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky one shot #bucky angst one shot #bucky x you fight

[erodasfishtacos]

The Stranger & The Thief (roommate!abo)

prompt: YN needs a roommate but has never been around alphas. Harry is the alpha her parents warned her about.

word count: 9.6k+

author’s note: hii guys. enjoy there is currently six more parts up of this series on my patreon which you can join for $3USD!

+++++++++++++++

YN didn’t mind alphas.

Not at all.

YN had grown up in a solely beta household which meant out of all of her family, she was the only omega.

It was difficult growing up, trying to figure out all the intricacies of her secondary gender when her family had no idea what any of it was or what it meant.

Heat was something that had been tortuous to figure out because she did that completely on her own.

All her parents could do was put food and water outside the locked bedroom door periodically as the heat, the pain, the agony persisted for at least five days before she started to feel relief.

A depression always followed for another week.

Then anxiety would start to consistently hurt her chest in the week leading up to her heat because her body is dreading the impending doom, of being dragged through the cycle with nothing that seemed to soothe the ache for her.

YN logically knew the solution would be an alpha, an alpha would be able to solve the problems that she was able to figure out on her own, in the privacy of her bedroom.

However, she grew up in a community that was mostly consisting of betas and omegas, there were a few alphas but none that would have been an option for YN.

Alphas intimidated her.

They were aggressive, demanding, dominant whereas she grew up around betas and omegas who were nurturing, empathic, patient.

It was two different worlds and though her parents did not speak down on alphas, that had made it clear that they felt like YN should settle for a nice beta.

YN never thought anything of it.

She did not crave an alpha.

Well…only during her heats but outside of that, there was no desire to mate with one.

All of her partners up until this point had been betas, that had been just fine for her, none of them were too serious.

The closest she got to a serious relationship was Tate, a gentle beta who was nice, thoughtful, and everything YN thought that she wanted in a partner.

It had been going strong for a few months when her heat had hit.

Tate had come over to offer assistance like they had previously discussed but it had not worked out well at all.

+

YN was embarrassed, she knew she had to face her boyfriend sooner or later, and she put it off for two more days after her heat.

They met at the coffee shop that was an even distance between their apartments.

Tate’s demeanor was off from the minute he sat down, he refused to look at YN directly in the eye, and he didn’t reach out to hold her hand across the table like he normally did anytime that they were out together.

He was the one who spoke first, “This isn’t going to work out.”

YN’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, things had been going so well up until her heat, “Tate, you cannot be serious. I…I’m sorry I acted that way but I did not know that was how I was going to react! We…I won’t ask you to help me out again but we don’t have to break up over it.”

Tate laughs without any humor, “I truly never thought you were a knot-snob.”

YN tenses at the derogatory term, it felt venomous coming out of his mouth, “Why would you say that? I’ve never even been interested in an alpha!”

He shakes his head, lips curling upwards in the slightest, “Really? Because I came over to help you, brought groceries, other things to help take care of you, and when I walked into the bedroom, you growled at me like you were feral.”

YN swallows harshly, she remembers, very vaguely and almost through a fog but she knows what he is saying is truthful.

“You demanded I leave because I was a ‘poor excuse of a man’ because I was a beta,” Tate’s anger cracks into something more devastated which made her feel awful because that was never her intention to hurt him, she would never purposely do that, “You said that I must be delusional to think I could satisfy you. Only an alpha could.”

YN knows there’s tears brimming at her eyes, she was aware of how nasty she had been to him, didn’t fully remember everything she had said but she did believe him about what he was repeating because it’s what went through her mind.

She remembers feeling disgust at seeing him, none of that love she normally has for him was present in her mind at the time, just pure anger that a beta thought that they could please her.

“We just don’t have to spend my heat together, Tate,” YN tries, she truly liked him, loved him as a friend, and saw potential in loving him as a partner.

Tate scoffs, self-deprecating as he finally meets her eye, “I will never be enough for you, YN. I know you weren’t in your right headspace when I came over but your nature made it very clear that you would never be satisfied in our relationship.”

He takes a deep breath, “You…You were a whole different person when I came to you. I thought omegas were supposed to be sweet, pliant, and gentle during their heats. You were agitated, aggressive, and hostile in a way that truly frightened me.”

“Tate, please,” YN reaches for his hand but he retracts it instinctually back onto his lap.

“I…I am not doing this because I want it to be like this. I saw a future with you, truly, I did. I…I really think that you should be with an alpha because it’d be unfair for you and the beta if you continue to date them,” Tate sighs as he gathers his coat, he does have that same gentleness when he gives her a soft smile, “I do wish you the best of luck, YN.”

++

YN had curled in on herself after that, tucked away into a shell, and has been in there ever since.

It’s been about six month since she’d broken up with Tate and she had made the mistake of asking another beta for help during her heat, it was friend who knew what they were in for but she just had to really make sure that it was unsafe for her to be with a beta before she ruled them out of her dating life.

++

YN was only on the precipice of her heat, hoping that if the beta came while she was still more cognizant that it would go more smoothly.

That turned out to be an absolute mistake.

Trevor was coming with the idea that he may need to leave within a few minutes of being there or he could be staying for the length of her heat depending on how it would go.

She had given him the key to get into her apartment so that he didn’t have to wait around for her to answer the door.

YN unfortunately remembers the events that transpire but even though she was aware during their interaction, she felt out of control of her body as she typically did in heat where she couldn’t stop herself from reacting as her wolf mind wanted her to.

“YN? Are you alright? I’m here,” Trevor calls out, smiling when YN appears in the small hallway of the apartment, “Oh hey, sorry I was late but there was a line at the store -”

YN’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and her hair is already messy from rolling around in her nest that she had spent time meticulously building as she started to fall into her heat, “Get the fuck out.”

“YN, listen we talked about -” Trevor begins easily, undeterred at first by her words.

“What? Do you think that you’re going to help me through this heat?” YN laughs meanly, shaking her head with a sharp, cruel smile, “I can smell you. What a weak fucking scent. A beta comes into my home like they can satisfy my heat. You are a joke to think you could give me what an alpha could.”

Trevor swallowed harshly, trying not to let the words hurt his feelings, his masculinity, the security he typically felt in his secondary gender but YN’s words were meant to gnaw at his insides, make him question himself.

“YN,” Trevor replies firmer, standing a bit straighter despite his hands trembling.

“Beta,” She replies but it rolls off her tongue like an insult, “You are nothing to me. You think I would want pups from a weak fucking beta? I’d rather never have a knot in my life than the little you have to offer me. You will never be my alpha.”

Trevor has to bite back the insulting name he would want to call her, knowing that that wouldn’t be helpful but also that him being here was not going to be helpful nor did he want to stay because he was worried she was about to rip his throat out.

He shakes his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the rejection of the omega, he had already been insecure in comparison to the alphas around him.

However, he had a crush on YN, he was stupid for thinking that she would magically be okay with him supporting her through her heat, and now he was realizing that was an absolute mistake because he felt worse than he ever as has before.

In the moment, that was her goal to make him feel that he was less than and she had succeeded.

“I’m just going to leave,” Trevor tells her as he turns towards the door, his bottom lip was quivering as he hangs his head, trying desperately to rationalize this, this wasn’t the kind, sweet, YN that he normally knew, this was feral at best.

“Good,” YN coos as she stands defensively in the door, her eyes were darker than Trevor had ever seen them and the smile on her face wasn’t one that relayed friendliness, it was like she was about to downright murder him.

Trevor has never moved so fast in his life.

++

YN was lucid enough during that to understand why Trevor avoided her like the plague after that, never returning her texts, and the one time she ran into him at the gas station, well he acted like he’d never seen her a day in his life.

She held no blame or ill-will, the things she said were nasty, cruel, and unlike her normal character but it wasn’t an excuse.

YN sent him a few long messages detailing how sorry she was, how she regretted putting him in that situation because she valued him as a friend but they all got left on read.

After that, she stopped trying to find anyone to help her with her heat.

She deleted her dating apps and pushed off the idea of finding someone else.

YN also went to the doctor for her erratic behavior during these times.

“Heat-Induced Aggression and Rage Disorder,” The doctor had told her simply, unphased by her explanation of her symptoms, “Most omegas can spend their cycle with any secondary gender, even other omegas. However, the disorder occurs when an omega requires an alpha and will become aggressive when a beta or an omega attempts to help.”

“How do I solve it?” YN asks desperately, this meant that she would never be able to spend her heat with someone and she couldn’t possibly imagine actually being with an alpha, she’d never been around one, really.

YN, of course, came in contact with alphas on the day-to-day, it wasn’t like they were rare.

It was that she didn’t have any friends, coworkers, or connections to alphas because she was in such a densely populated beta area before moving to the city after she graduated college.

“You need to find an alpha who’s willing to spend your heats with you or continue to spend you heats alone,” The doctor shrugs without any better explanation, “Unless you wish to take medication to completely stop your cycle but that has major medical risks that I would advise against, especially if you ever wish to have children.”

++

That’s where YN is at, with a disorder that doesn’t have a treatment that sounds remotely reasonable to her.

Searching whether in person or online for an alpha partner was extremely unsafe which meant that she had resorted to the fact that she would forever spend her heats alone, in pain.

It made her jealous when her omega friends bragged about how enjoyable, how blissful their heats were spent with their partners.

YN wishes she loved hers but instead, she finds herself thinking death sounds more pleasurable than forever spending five days locked in her bedroom by herself, a slave to her own nature with no help from anyone.

++ a year later ++

YN was going to pull her hair out, it was official because why was it so hard to find someone who appeared somewhat normal to fill the empty bedroom in her apartment?

For the last three years, YN had lived in peaceful harmony with her beta friend, Eileen.

Eileen had started dating her girlfriend, Regina, right after they moved in together.

Two weeks ago, Eileen had let YN know that she was moving out and in with Regina after their recent engagement which meant that she no longer had any income to help her with the rent nor the utilities in less than a month.

YN could technically afford everything on her own, the lease was in her name but it made money tight enough that she had to budget down to the dollar which she despised doing - it was much more manageable when she had someone splitting the bills with her.

And because she would rather not have to cut back on her frivolous spending like her unreasonable expensive smoothies and sure, maybe everytime she sees a pair of socks that look exceptionally comfy she feels the need to buy them.

However, after a third interview with a potential flatmate, YN thought that this may be an impossible task and she should already start her budgeting because there had been issues with all three interviewees.

The first, beta, needed the bathroom from six to nine pm with no explanation as to why.

The second, an omega, stated that she would need to be able to conduct an in-person yoga lesson with six people every other day in their living room.

The third, another beta, demanded that they split the fridge storage fifty-fifty because their last roommate put milk on their shelf of the fridge which they defined as a ‘personal attack’ because they were vegan.

So hopeless is where she found herself after that third beta.

That’s where Niall comes in, her lovely lovely beta friend who sometimes she worries has rocks for brain and other times he’s absolutely the most brilliant being to ever walk the earth, it just honestly depends on the day.

However, she could kiss him when he arrives at her apartment with a bag of chinese takeout and something to solve all of her issues completely, “I have a mate from work who needs a place. He makes good money so I know he’d have no issue paying his part. He’s cool, I trust him enough to recommend him, I’ve worked with him for like six years.”

YN barely even hesitated, she trusted Niall enough to know that he wouldn’t have offered the solution if he didn’t think that it was a good option for her.

He does get sheepish halfway through, “I…I did forget to mention that he’s an alpha.”

YN pauses at that, narrowing her eyes at him because he definitely left that part out in the initial description.

“Niall-” YN begins to huff because it’s not that she totally objected but it was something for her to consider and he had just left that out.

“I know, I know,” Niall puts his hands up, “He’s cool though. He really keeps to himself. I know you’ve never been around alphas, let alone live with one but I really think it would be fine. Don’t you trust me? Plus, he really needs a place to stay.”

YN really should give it more thought.

“He just texted and said he’d be willing to pay three thirds of the rent,” Niall tells her as he looks down at his phone, “If he can move in as soon as possible. Plus he’ll cover internet and electric.”

YN really really should think on it.

She’d never been around an alpha, let alone lived with one, she needs to think about it, weigh the pros and cons.

“Tell him he can move in on Friday,” YN finds herself saying and before she can think better of it, Niall is quickly typing away on his phone and the text alert goes off.

“He said that works for him,” Niall gives her an oblivious thumbs up before picking back up his container of rice and clicking the movie back on like he didn’t just wheel and deal the quickest decision she’s ever made in her life.

She didn’t even ask his name.

++

YN typically isn’t this dumb.

She actually prided herself on her impulse control and rational thinking but as she flutters around the apartment on Friday evening, trying to make it as spotless as possible for her new flatmate, she really starts to question her own sanity.

YN realizes that she’s going to have to have serious conversations with this alpha about boundaries, what will they do when it comes to their cycles, and the thought that their scents will run rampant because they obviously won’t use neutralizers when they’re at home.

Niall had not given much more information beside the fact that his name was Harry, he was twenty-eight, and had a higher up position in the company than Niall so they didn’t always have much interaction, Niall had actually just overheard a conversation he was having on the phone.

YN finds out that he had lived on his own since college but after his landlord decided he was going to sell the house he was renting, Harry had to find somewhere else quickly, and that resulted in him moving in with a friend from university.

That friend was another alpha, which turned sour very after soon after moving in together.

Niall was a bit hesitant when he told her that the issue was Harry, not the other alpha.

Harry was territorial, more of the pack leader type, and it became apparent within days that Harry simply could not share a space with another virile alpha despite Harry forcing the other alpha to submit to him on multiple occasions, it didn’t matter.

Even though Niall assured her that it wouldn’t be an issue because she was an omega, it didn’t make her feel much better but she has too strong of a conscious to promise a place for Harry to stay to then to pull that away from him.

Of course, Niall, the twat, couldn’t make it over while Harry was moving in because he had to go to a family birthday dinner which meant that it would just be the two of them.

“It will just be time to get to know one another,” Niall chirped easily on the phone, unbothered and oblivious to the tension that was building in YN.

++

Harry was supposed to be here at six in the evening.

He quite literally knocks on the door at exactly six.

YN hesitates for a moment before opening the door, her heart was beating unusually fast, and when she opens it, it begins to pump even faster.

The man standing in front of her was clearly an alpha without her even knowing this information before hand.

It was interwoven into every aspect of his being, in a way that could be seen physically but on the other hand, it was unspoken, she couldn’t quite describe it but he was exactly what she imagined an alpha to be.

All of him was defined, sharp from his jaw to his nose to his arms.

His shoulders were broad enough that YN wondered if he could even fit through the doorway without squeezing them inward.

He was tall, taller than she had imagined him, and that added with his width and the pure heft of his bulky but lean muscles - he was fucking intimidating and could hurt her without a shadow of a doubt, she’d be defensless.

This is a bad idea.

YN should tell him he can’t move in.

Her parents raised her better than to let a six foot something, very capable alpha in her home to share with her without knowing anything about him.

The fact of the matter was, he did not even look friendly.

Some alphas were like golden retrievers, easy going and a bit airheaded.

Harry was the stark opposite end of that.

The type of alpha that people avoid because of how dangerous they can be.

If YN was walking down the sidewalk and he was walking towards her, she would without a doubt cross the road to avoid bumping into him but yet, she was welcoming him into her house and something within her felt like this was a good idea.

Her inner omega that is.

Who we all know craves an alpha like water and air.

She pushes that down, as much as possible when she notices how big his hands are and how they would look holding her hips -

He has a frown on his face, the light wrinkles it causes shows YN that he has that expression quite often as he looks at her with a mixture of boredom and exasperation, he should be so fucking friendly because of how much YN is overextending to help him.

He isn’t.

After a moment, YN realizes she’d been staring at him dumbly and has yet to introduce herself.

“YN?” Harry finally asks and his voice is deep, only like an alpha’s can be, no beta could even imitate the vibrato of that tone.

“Yeah, uh, come in?” YN’s voice is higher pitched than she’d prefer as she steps aside, her greeting coming out much more like a question than a statement.

Harry blinks dully at her, a backpack over his shoulder and a few boxes next to his feet, “If you do not want me to come in, just say it. If me being an alpha or a guy is too much, tell me now before I move all my fuckin’ stuff in. I don’t like playing these back and forth games.”

YN is startled by his attitude, she can’t recall a time when anyone has ever talked to her so bluntly or without politeness which again, inherently an alpha thing but it still had her off kilter a bit as his face doesn’t change.

“No, sorry, yeah. You can bring your stuff in, I haven’t changed my mind,” YN steps further back into the apartment, spreading her arms, “This is it. Sorry, I know it isn’t much but I guess a roof over your head is better than nothing.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to look around, doesn’t compliment the comfy furniture or the cute little decorations, “It’s fine. Where’s my room?”

YN knows her smile falls when she realizes this is going exceptionally worse than she had already been dreading, which means that she leads him around the apartment, showing him the bathroom, laundry, linen closet, and then to his room as he remains completely silent.

When he goes to begin to bring his few boxes in, YN moves to pick one up to help but he stops her abruptly, voice firm and demanding,  “No. Put that down.”

YN’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, “Sorry!” She apologizes for the millionth time in less than thirty minutes, “I was just trying to be helpful.”

Harry snarls his lip in the slightest,  “Am I the alpha or are you?”

YN’s swallows harshly, voice small, “You are.”

“Right. I am the alpha, I will move the heavy boxes, I will unpack. It is my job, not yours,” Harry tells her as he brushes past her to deposit the box into his room before coming out for the next one without anything else to say.

YN should probably stand her ground, set those firm boundaries but she doesn’t, instead she hides out in her room with her cat, Beatrice, (who was also hiding from the unknown visitor) and does not plan to come out until tomorrow morning or until he’s asleep.

But no, when it’s nearly ten at night, YN finally gathers enough courage to knock on his bedroom door to set the house rules, the boundaries because she couldn’t make Harry like her but they could at least be civil.

Or so she thought.

Harry answered the door after a minute, his shirt was off and he was just in a pair of joggers, there was stuff all over his room that he was obviously in the midst of organizing but it also looked worse before everything fit perfectly into place.

“What?” He asks impatiently, like he has a timeframe and YN is disrupting something major.

YN’s mind goes completely blank for a moment because for the first time since he came in, probably because it was night time and his morning scent neutralizers had worn off but she can smell his natural scent for the first time.

It was stronger because he didn’t have anything blocking his glands, his chest was heavily tattooed, and unfairly defined, looking as if he never spent a minute outside of the gym with muscles cut in places YN didn’t even know muscle existed.

His scent was…unlike anything that she had ever smelled in her life.

It was rich, deep, and dark.

It made her dizzy, sleepy, like she could fall into a trance of getting lost in it.

Thick, warm waves of it seemed to short-circuit her mind and make it hard for her to even remember what her purpose was of standing in front of him.

She had never reacted so strongly to scent in her life, never even noticed most of the time what others smelled like but this was seeping into her veins and she couldn’t quite get enough of it as she tried to subtly breathe it in as much as possible.

“What do you want?” Harry reiterates, louder and definitely more annoyed as he crosses his arms.

YN has to blink a few times before she’s shaking her head, “Uh, I just wanted to go over like….house rules? Anything you need from me? Boundaries? How can we operate around each other since we’re going to be living together?”

Harry jaw clenches, his nostrils flared, and he looks appalled.

YN realizes then that he must be able to smell her and by his reaction, he must absolutely hate her scent which made shame and mortification run through her body, of being rejected by this alpha was absolutely confidence crushing.

YN swallows down the whine.

Harry’s eyes trace up to her once, “Here’s the house rules, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m only looking for a place to stay. Understood?”

YN’s mouth is dry, her brain is having a hard time focusing on the harshness of his words because his scent is flashing bright sparkles in her eyesight at the same time, “What about your rut? My heat?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, turning a bit predatory, dangerous for a moment before he’s replying, “I’m sure you have help. If you bring another beta or omega here, that will be fine. I will not bother you. Niall told me you do not typically associate with alphas.”

“Um, okay…That works,” YN lies because she really can’t have another omega or beta here but if she has too, maybe she can try again? Maybe if they come over while she’s not yet in her heat? She’ll have to think about that later, “Your rut?”

“I have it handled,” Harry replies defensively, stepping back and putting his hand on the doorknob, “Just give me a heads up beforehand so that I won’t be blindsided by coming home to the scent change but I will also communicate that with you.”

“Okay, that sounds good-”

The door is shut on her without her even being able to finish her sentence.

“Rude ass fucking alpha,” YN mutters under her breath as she shakes her head, when she plops on her bed, she may or may not scream into her pillow for a moment because she just got herself into a worse situation than she could imagine.

But yet it hasn’t once crossed her mind to kick him out.

Why?

She doesn’t have a clue.

++

YN does not see Harry once during the first two weeks of him living with her.

Not even a glimpse.

And YN would actually wonder if he still even lived here if she wasn’t constantly overwhelmed by his scent.

He must come out of his room once YN is asleep, she does not understand how it is so thick, cloying on every surface of her apartment.

The second you walk in, it hits you, and lets anybody who enters know that an alpha lives here, there would not even be a doubt.

YN vaguely finds herself wondering one night as she sits on her couch whether or not Harry had scent marked the apartment, claiming it as his territory.

She had heard alphas do that, especially when they live with their omega to show that their mate has an alpha who protects them and their home.

However, that’s not the case here, and YN is pretty sure that Harry doesn’t even remotely like her, let alone want to live here so why would he want to claim it?

She rules that out as a possibility, mostly, but when she wakes up in the morning and he had already left for the day, well she can’t help but notice as fucking beautiful her house smells.

YN only gets her heat every six months with the suppressant she’s on but the entire month leading up to it, she finds herself starting to get more rooted in her omega tendencies.

Harry had been living with her for fourish months by this point and nothing had changed since the beginning.

He didn’t use the living room, showered early before YN would wake up and was already gone, and stayed out of the kitchen before she would go to bed.

In the four months, the sightings had been few and far between and she realized that he meant it very literally when he said that he’ll stay out of her way if she stays out of his.

In the sparse times they’ve shared space, whether it was in the hallway or kitchen, Harry’s lip would always curl up and his nose twitched which always incited a bit of insecurity about her scent.

She had always gotten compliments on hers, how light and powdery it smelled like clean laundry spritzed with a hint of orange blossom and vanilla.

YN did not understand why it was so unappealing to the alpha but he was in for a rude awakening as the month leading up to her heat began.

Her scent got noticeably stronger, she felt the urge to scentmark more items in her apartment to claim that this was her home and safe space.

As expected, Harry didn’t say anything the day it all started to intensify.

And to be fair, he never said anything to her.

The closest thing she would get was a low grunt of greeting but despite that, she felt safe with him in her home, and never had any worry that she was in danger.

The alpha made her feel an overwhelming sense of security, in fact, that she had never felt with any beta or omega.

It wasn’t necessary that he was mean to her or treated her poorly, he just…was there.

He didn’t bring anyone home with him, never asked if he could have someone spend the night nor has she ever smelled any visitors either.

However, things really start to change in the beginning of October, the month before her heat would crest and peak before the cycle started all over again.

The first major change she would notice was the difficulty sleeping.

Normally, she slept better than most without typically ever having to get up in the middle of the night or any tossing and turning.

When October hit, it felt near impossible for her to fall asleep and then when she was so exhausted that she did end passing out, it wouldn’t be long before she was awake again which made her always feel like she needed a nap.

++

It was late for a weekday, the clock showing that it was close to midnight, and she had to be up for work at six in the morning but her body did not seem to get the memo because after attempting to sleep since ten, it had not been successful.

YN decided to give it some time before she laid back down again.

YN grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cupboard, gave Beatrice one of the squeeze tubes of tuna-flavored goop, and cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

Of course, nothing sounded good as she flipped through the options, and decided on a romantic comedy that didn’t really interest her but it was her best option to make her sleepy, even if it was from the boredom of a corny film.

YN was about thirty-five minutes in when she realized that the movie wasn’t a helpful tool to fall asleep because she was completely interested in the plot line and she was even more awake than before trying to follow the story.

It made her jump in the slightest when the lock turns in the front door before it’s being opened roughly as Harry walks into the small entryway, shutting the door behind him, and beginning to shuck his coat without even realizing she was sitting there.

She hears him grumpily mumble, “Always leaves the fuckin’ television on.”

Which, yeah, she does forget half the time and the other half she feels like Beatrice likes it on for comfort.

Harry looked worn down, tired, and as beautiful as ever.

He had a duffle over his shoulder that most likely held his work clothes and gym outfit because YN was quite sure that after he was down at his office, he went to the gym which he was at for quite a long time.

She vaguely remembers Niall saying that he boxes occasionally for money and that he trains daily which was a pretty brutal routine of working out before work and after work with no time for relaxation in between.

After he’s lined his shoes up neatly against the wall, (YN notices that he also does the same with her shoes that she had half-haphazardly kicked off when she came home from work), he walks into the living room.

It was obvious that he was going toward the television to shut it off but he lets out the lowest growl of surprise when he spots YN tucked deeply into the corner of the couch with a blanket tucked like a burrito around her.

And YN had never heard, in real life, an alpha growl before.

Instead of being scared, she felt the sudden urge to purr, which scared the absolute shit out of her because why the fuck would she want to purr? She’d only done that when she was a pup and never in her adult life.

Why would she want to do that when this alpha was obviously on edge to the point of growling.

“What are you doing?” Harry grunts, voice sharp and annoyed, nostrils flaring as he must take in her smell.

“I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies hesitantly, eyes darting back up to the screen and then to him because his gaze was so intense and accusatory - it was her house, she could be wherever she wanted when she wanted no matter what time.

“Why?” Harry follows up, his arms crossing over his chest, and making his biceps look unfairly big.

YN grits her teeth, debating on whether she wants to give him a snarky remark to mind his business but then she remembers that she has to live with him and would rather not have them on worse terms then they already seem to be on.

“I always have difficulty sleeping the month of my pre-heat,” YN shrugs, a little embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate with someone who likely did not want to hear anything about her personal life.

“Is that normal?” Harry’s brow furrows, not seeming to like her answer to his question.

YN swipes her tongue across her front teeth nervously, “Um, not really. I…I have a lot of issues regarding my heats and that is one of many. Yeah, I see a doctor but there’s only so much they can do, I guess.”

Harry nods in understanding, doesn’t ask anymore questions or even acknowledge her again as he goes about making himself something to eat before disappearing into his room without another word to her which she was used to by this point.

YN rewinds the movie at bit, she couldn’t really focus when Harry was in the vicinity, and his smell was so fucking overwhelming as he obviously hadn’t showered after the gym and was waiting until he got home.

It wasn’t a bad smell, neither of sweat or filth.

No, it was just that his already delicious smell was stronger, darker, and just encompassing every molecule of the apartment.

It takes her a moment to refocus her attention back on the screen and remember where she had left off, vaguely hearing the shower start to run before he’s shutting the door to his bedroom a little more roughly than a normal.

The plot takes a very unexpectant twist at the end and YN didn’t realize that this rom-com had a sad ending which she really wasn’t used to in most films like this.

After working through all the turmoil and drama that kept popping up for this couple, they finally get it right, and the alpha was about to propose to the omega when he got in a car accident, and ended up passing away.

YN doesn’t not even recognize that she is sobbing like an absolute baby until Harry is standing in front of her with a twitch of irritation in his jaw and only in a pair of joggers, nothing stopping her from seeing the bare, defined muscle of his upper half.

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks as he looks down at her, arms crossed yet again.

YN wipes her face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, tears tracks surely making her face puffy as she sits up, “It ha-had a really sad ending I wasn’t expecting,” YN nods up towards where the credit were rolling, “Th-The alpha dies and doesn't get to pro-propose.”

“That’s got you all worked up?” Harry sighs as he moves to grab the remote, flicking off the television and motioning for her to stand up, “You need to try to go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” YN nearly whines, making tears start again.

Oh, did she mention she gets unreasonably emotional during her pre-heat?

“Try,” Harry insists and he gently grabs her wrist, pulling her to her feet, “For both of our sakes, please just try to get some rest.”

YN frowns at that, why does it matter to him?

She hates that she feels disappointed when he lets go of her.

“Okay,” YN agrees as she shuffles her feet towards her bedroom, despising that despite how unfriendly the alpha is, she finds herself wanting comfort from him which…it just doesn’t make any sense and she pushes those thoughts to the very back of her mind.

YN veers off towards the bathroom first and by the time she turns to say goodnight, Harry’s already back in his room with the door shut, and she just ends up sighing before shutting the door of the bathroom to use it before she tries to sleep again.

As she sits down, she notices a pile of fabric in the corner near the sink, and out of curiosity once she’s done, she plucks it up and holds it out.

It was the shirt that Harry had been wearing when he came home, the one he worked out in, and it was absolutely drenched in that smell that made YN weak at the knees.

Harry was meticulously clean.

He never even left behind as much as a crumb of a sandwich and so seeing a shirt of his was unusual because it had never happened before.

YN has no excuse for her behavior, doesn’t really even consciously realize that she’s doing it until she’s back in her room with his shirt tucked up into her hoodie.

She pulls it out and pathetically enough, brings it to her nose where it just smells of alpha, comfort, security, and everything she could ever imagine

It feels wrong, invasive to his privacy almost, and she has never done anything like this in her life.

There was something that outweighed all those negative feelings because she finds that as soon as she lays down and tucks the shirt around her pillow to lay her face into, her eyes instantly become droopy and in no time, she’s out like a light.

+

YN tries to push the whole shirt incident out of her mind the next day, blaming it on her pre-heat haziness, and absolutely nothing else.

Logically, she knows she should return his shirt to him, at least tossing it in his hamper but his scent lingered for days afterwards and there was a direct correlation to how much better she had been sleeping since.

When the scent was completely gone, it was like clockwork that YN began to not be able to fall asleep.

It leads her to another night on the couch, another night of Harry coming in late, and being irritated that she was still awake.

“You were fine the last few nights,” Harry notes as his greeting, no ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’.

YN bites the corner of her lip, lowering the volume a tad on the television, “I know.”

“So why are you up right now?” Harry questions and god, are all alphas this blunt and impersonal or was it just this alpha in particular.

“Because I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies like it’s obvious.

Harry bares his teeth slightly, “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I told you, my pre-heat,” YN realizes that she’s getting a bit defensive because the real answer is much more mortifying and something she would never actually share with him.

He steps in, dropping his duffle unceremoniously, and walks closer to her.

Harry starts to speak slowly, precisely like he’s trying to get YN to understand, “I am not stupid. I understand that. I am asking you, what made you sleep the last few nights? You slept like a rock when I check-, when I walked past your room.”

YN shouldn’t react the way she does but she feels in a way that all the tension between them bubbles up.

Not to mention, it’s incredibly irritating to her how drawn her omega is to him, his scent, his presence, and she fucking hates it because he’s a dickhead.

“I don’t fuckin know, okay? Leave it alone. I’m allowed to be in my living room at whatever hour of the night I please without a fucking interregation,” YN snaps at him angrily, cursing when tears start to drip down her cheeks, and these hormones just sucked, amplifying every emotion she has ten-fold.

Harry lets out a low growl at that, just like the other night, and it doesn’t scare YN once again.

No, for some reason it makes her anger ebb just the slightest.

“Stop the attitude,” Harry replies evenly but his voice was deeper, “I was just checking in on you.”

Anyone else telling her to stop her attitude?

It would have escalated into a nasty fight.

YN instead just deflates, curling up further into her blanket, and covering her face because she just couldn’t get in control of the tears that were streaming down.

He must think she’s a lunatic.

Harry leaves her once again to go shower.

YN’s absolutely praying that he leaves a shirt rumbled on the floor again, despite how guilty that thought makes her feel.

She just wants sleep and for her hormones to even out.

YN feels a bit like a criminal when she goes to the bathroom, soon after Harry had went back out to make himself something for dinner, and there’s a massive disappointment in her stomach when the bathroom is as spotless as always.

She is craving the scent, she knows she can get another fix of it but it would definitely be in his hamper, in his room, and it’s such an invasion of privacy for her to go in there but then again, he’s frying something on the stovetop and he wouldn’t know…

YN’s never stolen in her life, not even gum or nail polish when she was younger, and it’s not even really stealing because she’ll give it back as soon as the scent wears off (but that’s not really true because she hasn’t returned his other shirt and has no intention of it).

She’s already opened his door, quickly scoping out the space, and realizing that his bedroom was the absolute fucking motherload of everything she could ever dream of.

If she thought their whole apartment smelled like him, his bedroom was if you bottled it in a jar, it was thicker, more cloying than ever, and she noticed a purring in her chest before she realized she was doing it and stopped.

If she was completely insane, she would try to grab as much as possible, until her arms are overflowing and she can’t carry out anything else without it falling.

But she’s not that far off the deep end that she did that, she felt creepy enough as she tiptoed over to his laundry hamper and snatched the shirt that was lying on top, the one that Harry had walked in the apartment wearing early.

YN wishes she could loiter a bit longer but that meant a higher chance that she was going to get caught.

She is surprisingly successful as she sneaks back into her room, proud that she now has two shirts to add to her nest.

YN always had a nest, it provided her comfort and security but she absolutely loved that she could intertwine the fabric together with her soft blankets.

This meant she was guaranteed a few more good night sleeps.

++

YN was running incredibly behind for work the next.

She had slept so well that she must have turned off her alarm instead of snoozing iit.

Because when she finally cracks her eyes open, the sun is breaking through her blinds, and her body knows that it is much later than six in the morning.

Her phone confirms that when she clicks on the screen she sees that it is seven-thirty-five.

Any other day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal because besides meetings she could make her own schedule.

Of course, of course, she sleeps on the day of an important presentation that she was the head presenter on.

It started at nine which didn’t give her much wiggle room because the commute takes a decent amount of time and that’s if there’s no hectic traffic.

“Shit, shit, shit,”  YN chants to herself when rolls out of bed, glaring judgmentally at Beatrice, and muttering, “You wake me up every other morning for breakfast, but not today, of all days?”

Beatrice blinks slowly at her before she lifts her paw pointedly and nibbles on it.

There’s no time for a shower or the makeup she wanted to do.

The only luck that was on her side was that she laid her outfit out last night after being incredibly indecisive about what she wanted to wear in front of the board of higher ups.

She had tugged her hair up into a loose ponytail that actually passed for the messy updo style, and put on her best push-up bra right after.

YN figured that while she was tugging on her trousers that she could go out to feed Beatrice,  the button was being finicky as it always tending to be so she was looking down as she begin down the hall, and nearly fell backwards when she runs into something hard, warm, and delicious smelling.

Harry’s big hands reach out and wrap around her bare arms, keeping her upright as she yelps in surprise, pants going unbuttoned for a moment as she grips Harry’s forearms for stability and looks at him with wide eyes.

His nostrils are flaring viciously, an irritated growling rumbling through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on her the full time.

They never once darted down to her chest,  that not only was just covered by her bra but was also sheer enough that her nipples were completely visible through the nude fabric.

YN is confused by her own desire to just curl into his chest and feel his shirtless chest against her barely clothed one, and what the fuck.

“Wha-“ YN stammers in confusion, why is he home?

“Why aren’t you at work?” Harry asks pointedly, his jaw was clenched tightly enough that it must be aching with soreness.

“I-I overslept,” She replies shakily, his hands still gripping her arms, fingertips pressing in, “I need to feed Beatrice.”

“No, what you need to do is get yourself dressed. Do you walk around half-naked with every alpha you know? S’indecent,” He’s scolding her like a child as he finally steps back.

YN has been so nice up until this point, despite how wonky her hormones have been.

She’s typically never a nasty person.

She rarely ever gets angry either.

However, today was the wrong day to fuck with her.

“Fuck you,” YN snaps back out of her stupor, much to Harry’s surprise, “I told I was late and I didn’t think you’d be home because you’re always at work by now. I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my body, prick.”

YN turns on her heel, storming back to her room, and snatching up her phone to check the time to see an email notification from her work.

Good morning,

We hope this email finds you well. Our office has to be unfortunately shut down for the next few days due to a major power outage after flooding in the basement of the building. We are estimating a three to four day shutdown. To show our gratitude for your patience, these days will be marked as paid time off. Stay tuned for more information and updates.

Thank you,

Evergreen Financial Accounting

YN feels a huge weight lifted off her chest because not only does she get a few days to relax but now she isn’t going to be late to her important presentation .

However, she does not feel completely relieved because the anger chewing at her over her housemate is just as heavy, even more prominent, and has triggered her inner hormonal omega.

YN fees a flash of defiance which is never a good sign as she usually never tries to rock the boat or cause a stir, prefers to fly under the radar.

No, not today.

YN storms back out of her room because she was going to feed Beatrice in her bra and unbuttoned work slacks if she wanted to.

Harry was sat on the living room couch which was an uncommon sight, a protein drink in a shaker cup, and his eyes on his phone in the opposite hand.

YN goes back into the kitchen, deciding she might as well make herself a breakfast sandwich while she’s at it after she fills Beatrice’s bowl.

She can feel his eyes on her, intense and if it could, his gaze would be burning a hole in her back with how directed and annoyed it was.

YN moves slowly, now that she’s in no rush at all, and she feels stupid for being surprised when Harry lets out a snarl loud enough to echo in the space.

YN doesn’t turn around.

It feels dangerous, she’d learned over and over again growing up to never ever antagonize an alpha, and here she was.

When she doesn’t respond to the noise, it gets louder and makes her ears ring just the slightest, he’s trying to force her attention on him.

Bossy, ill-mannered alpha.

His voice is closer when he speaks, she never even hears him get up.

“Go get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Harry orders,  his voice deeper, raspier than she had ever heard it.

But it also sent a very unpleasant spark of nervousness up her spine because the alpha in front of her was past the point of being annoyed, he was furious.

His shoulders were as broad as they could go, his teeth flashing at her, and his scent was richer, thicker, tinged with a sharp pine.

The playful, brattiness dissipates from her body as his growls stay loud, demanding, deafening.

YN doesn’t realize at first what a bad decision it is to flip her hair over her shoulder, putting her bare bond spot right on display in front of an agitated alpha.

To her utter dismay, he steps forward and their chests are nearly touching, his eyes were now completely focused on the curve of her neck.

When he reaches up, cupping the side of her neck, and curiously thumbs over the spot, YN cannot control the whine that leaves her throat.

His eyes move directly back up to hers, the noise drags him for his daze, and back into reality.

He actually does look her up and down this time, eyes lingering on her chest for a minute before he’s hissing at her once again, “Go get a fucking shirt on.”

With that, he’s turning and grabbing his duffle before storming out the front door, shutting it hard enough it vibrates but then she still hears him take the time to lock it.

Stupid fucking alpha.

+++++++++

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic

[hufflefluff-stuff]

hi! i was wondering if you could write how HL characters would act when they are jealous

Yes! Also, I'll add how these characters wind up confessing to their crush! 👍

Characters: Sebastian, Garreth, Ominis, Poppy, & Leander

......

Sebastian Sallow

Let's be fr..this guy gets jealous INSANELY easily in canon, even when platonically speaking.

It's hard to pinpoint where he exactly started catching feelings for you, but he certainly fell for you fast after your adventure into the library's restricted section.

Unfortunately, because of your growing reputation as a "hero" around Hogwarts, Hogsmede, and other hamlets...you've have strangers and students alike often come up to you and interrupt your conversations with Sebastian.

They mean well, only showing up to compliment you or thank you for some favor you've done for them.

But still it puts him in an sour mood, especially if he's unable to do anything about it without coming off as a prissy Slytherin.

During classes, he feels 10x worse if he's not partnered with you and instead sees you with classmates he views as "competition"...like Garreth, Leander, or even Amit, scowling at them in envy and unable to focus unless the professor specifically calls him out on it.

The only exception is Ominis, since he's a trusted friend and damn well knew his crush on you (he has certainly used this as blackmail to stop him from doing stupid stuff) but Sebastian will still huff about how "close" you two are growing.

Sometimes his jealousy gets so bad he needs to go blow off some steam in the Undercroft, casting damage spells on whatever poor dummy, pillar, or knight armor happened to be in his way.

It's nothing that Repairo couldn't fix.

While your assistance in his quest to find a cure for Anne was extremely important to him, that's not the only reason he brings you along for the ride.

He genuinely enjoys your company, and it's his chance to actually be alone with you and talk without any rude interruptions.

Well...there's trolls, rankrok's loyalists, spiders, ashwinders, Inferi, etc....but none of them are annoying students who try to hog all your attention just to spite him.

Aside from Ominis, Anne keeps encouraging her twin brother to make some move if he's that jealous (which Sebastian repeatedly denies).

Sooner or later...he may lose that chance, and he fears this. But he never knew when the moment would come..

Then one night, you were both fighting poachers and their leader, an Animagus, insulted him so horribly that it made his confident expression drop for a moment--as did his Protego shield.

You didn't hear what she said exactly, but his devastated face told you enough and you were pissed.

So you rained down a torrent of ancient magic lightning before she can even think of transforming.

Sebastian could only watch as you smite her like some furious god unleashing your wrath on the world, finding you both badass and ethereal.

When it's all over, you rushed to his side and ask if he's okay--but he just kisses you right there and then, silencing you.

He's so sick of waiting.

Garreth Weasley

His jealousy is nowhere near as bad as Sebastian's...but it's still there. Just subtle.

He pouts a lot when somebody steals your attention away, and he tries way too hard to impress you with whatever brilliant potion concept he drafted up (and definitely didn't have approval to brew in class under any circumstances).

Speaking of which, you're his usual partner in potions class, so he'll be highly disappointed if Professor Sharp decides to pair you with somebody else that day.

Garreth feels this sting in his heart if he overhears you praising them for their perfect brew, while he stares into his bubbling cauldron and sulks, wondering what he could've done differently.

He didn't know how you truly felt about him, so he got the genius idea to cook up a love potion the day you had a substitute for class (he sat at the furthest station and had secretly gathered the ingredients beforehand).

Just as you were about to try it for yourself, he accidentally knocked an incompatible ingredient into the pot and caused its contents to explode, staining both of your robes in pink.

While everybody laughed, the sub made the stains vanish with some magic and decided to dismiss class early, making you two stay behind to clean up the mess.

Luckily only house points were deducted due to your actions, so you won't be getting detention for this.

Still...Garreth was quite upset and you could tell.

You reassure him you're not mad in the slightest, and that you knew exactly what he was trying to do (followed by a small wink before continuing your cleanup).

His face turned as red as a maxima potion, and when he returns to the Gryffindor common room for the night, he gets confused stares from his fellow housemates as they wonder what's gotten into him.

But he can't stop thinking about you.

Maybe you ingested droplets of the love potion after it exploded, since you did seem particularly flirtatious with him in that moment and knew his intentions.

Looks like he got his wish after all.

Now to ask you out properly..

Ominis Gaunt

He's not an easily jealous guy. He'll never get angry at other people for simply wanting to spend time with you or if you're partners with them in class.

You've made a name for yourself at Hogwarts, and while he doesn't always agree with the dangerous stuff you get involved with, he only expects people to look up to you and pull your attention away from him.

Though deep down, it kinda hurts...especially since quite a handful of students from other houses perceive him as someone you shouldn't be around (some Gryffindors with "holier than thou" personalities even had the guts to say you're better off without him when he's standing right there).

Being a Gaunt + a Slytherin had that effect, unfortunately...

But he's sick of hearing that all the time.

Anyone else would've snapped at whoever criticized them based on blood status or rudely interrupted a conversation they're clearly having with you.

Yet when he does it..suddenly he's the bad guy?

It never made sense.

So any jealous feelings Ominis has stem from his own insecurities, and they grow even worse the more he realizes he's in love with you..

Like Sebastian, he'd probably storm off to the Undercroft to calm down if he's feeling heavily upset.

Fortunately, you're quick to defend him and decline other people's advances, saying you'd much rather hang out with him.

When you nearly got into a wand duel/fistfight over something insulting they said about him, that's when he realizes you cared about him as more than a friend...

Though he wanted to test the waters, so to speak, before hyping himself up to confess to you.

So throughout the week, Ominis expressed subtle desires to be in closer proximity to you (which you were fine with despite being initially confused at his sudden change in behavior)

These are, but not limited to, linking arms while walking in the hallways, napping beside you while you were reading or petting a random cat, "accidentally" falling asleep on your shoulder in History of Magic, and letting you guide him through assignments in herbology and potions class so he took the correct measurements (his grades improved, which is always a plus).

It takes a little bit of encouragement from Sebastian, but by the week's end, he courts you in one of his favorite spots outside the castle, gathering flowers, candles, and everything.

You truly made him feel loved..and he was going to do his best to reciprocate that.

How he wishes he could see the looks on those Gryffindor preps' faces when they realize the "hero of Hogwarts" is his date.

Poppy Sweeting

Considering how little she spoke to other students, even ones from her own house, this Hufflepuff found it difficult to get close to you at first.

You being hailed as a "hero" made it especially challenging, as you seemed constantly busy and people were bugging you for attention/advice/help....all while Poppy was standing in the background, forcing a smile.

Of course, you always made time to help her rescue beasts. It became your passion, and she was happy about that. Your adventures together allowed you to connect on an emotional level.

The moment she knew she was in love was the night when you both observed a Mooncalf dance, trying to make sense of the pattern those sweet big-eyed creatures left behind.

No matter how many times you've seen them, their dances are spectacular--ever captivating.

But when Poppy asked for your opinion on the pattern she drew out, she stops after seeing your breathtaking smile, eyes practically sparkling in the glow of the moonlight..

And suddenly that's all she could focus on.

Suddenly that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Since then, her jealousy around other students has increased tenfold...especially when one jerk who disrespected beasts bragged about their poacher parents and invited you to visit their camp.

You've never seen a girl Depulso another student so fast in your life, but Poppy acts like nothing ever happened.

Similar to Sebastian, her jealousy manifests in the form of glares and general scorn towards anyone trying to ask you out on a date (which you, fortunately, decline).

She 100% rambles to the beasts about you.

If Highwing and Lord of the Shore could talk, they'd tell her to just stfu and confess to you already bc the tension is killing them.

It only (finally) happens when you invite her to the Vivarium for the first time, and they both nudge you two together, not backing down until you finally kiss.

If any of yall know that scene in Pokémon Scarlet/Violet where the box legendary pushes Arven towards his friends...that's this exact situation.

Leander Prewett

There's not doubt that this Gryffindor was going to grow jealous of your rising popularity in Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands.

He's a sore loser, while you have generally good sportsmanship..but he secretly appreciates you encouraging him to keep practicing. He only keeps going because of your words alone.

Outside of classes and competitions, he tries to hang out with you but oftentimes your attention goes to other people--whether it's professors keeping you after class to go over extra assignments or a friend sending you an owl with an urgent request.

You don't mean to keep ditching him, but to him it feels like you're always "too busy" for him.

Leander just scowls at the owls while they stare back at him like "hey, don't shoot the messenger".

Yet even when you do manage to spend time together, he only ever asks about your recent escapades....and then refuses to believe them despite you explaining them in great detail.

To this day, he still isn't convinced you possess ancient magic.

But the truth is that he wants to believe you. He admires your bravery and is insanely in love with that aspect of you....though he doesn't know how to express that.

He wishes he can relate and have cool stories to tell, but when people bring up his name they only ever talk about his constant failures.

He doesn't feel any better when others rush to defend your acts of heroism, thinking he's being a jerk.

The truth is you actually loved him and his company despite your frequent banter, but believed him to be way out of your league.

At least until the day Professor Kogawa assigned you to help him after flying class, citing the lack of respect he's been showing to his broom and your good influence on classmates.

He saw this as his chance to impress you...and failed miserably as he was unable to focus and snapped at his broom in frustration, causing it to whack him in the face just as a group of Slytherins passed by.

They laughed and teased him relentlessly, but after scaring them off with a chomping cabbage...you realized Leander had disappeared.

But he didn't go far as you discover him sulking near the lake, hiding himself with the Disillusionment charm (which you cancelled with Revelio).

It's there he finally talks about his true feelings towards you, and you see a more vulnerable side to the typically uptight Gryffindor.

In the end, you decide to give him a chance.

#it's fair to say seb and leander are the most jealous lads ever #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x mc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x reader #leander prewett #leander prewett x reader #jealousy hcs #headcanons

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara angst #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #atvs spoilers #spiderman 2099 x reader #accross the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #x reader #angst

[carlos-in-glasses]

Where All This Love Comes From

I'm so excited to share what has been known as Flashback Fic! 107k words, with all 14 chapters here on Ao3, rated E.

Six months after Gabriel Reyes’ death, TK grows concerned about Carlos’ drinking and brings him to a meeting at the Y. Afterwards, over omelets at the diner, the husbands open up to each other. TK reflects on meeting Carlos after years of addiction and self-destruction, while Carlos has continued to seek closure by uncovering two unknowns: The identity of his father’s killer, and how his father truly felt about Carlos as his son.

************************************************

Carlos puts his arms around him from behind and holds him still, kissing his neck. TK tries to twist in Carlos’ grip, but he won’t let him. He starts walking him towards the bedroom. “I’m desperate for you,” TK says, his blood hot, cheeks red, eyes pricking with tears. “I know.” “Make me forget everything.” “I will.” “I only want to think about you.” “You will.” Carlos stops for a breath. He smells TK – his clean hair, his evanesced cologne, his natural man scent, his salty tears that have imbued his skin, the sweat of stress. Sad, but still beautiful to Carlos. TK, delicious. “I never thought I’d have you. I never thought–” he can’t speak anymore.

***********************************************

Chapter 1: A Trail to Follow

In 2023, TK discovers something that triggers memories of heroin withdrawal seven years before – and Carlos makes amends with Gutiérrez after accusing him of his father’s murder.

Chapter 2: A Very Nice Sweater for the 'Y'

TK takes Carlos to the N.A. meeting – but when things don’t go as hoped, he instigates another method to get Carlos talking.  

Chapter 3: Snowballing

A messy situation in 2010 causes TK as a high school junior to lash out. In 2023, Carlos realizes it's time to tell TK about one more secret. 

Chapter 4: Original Sin

In 2013, Carlos accidentally destroys Gabriel’s oldest friendship. Nine years later, he attempts to make peace after he and TK get engaged.

Chapter 5: Between Two Bridges

In 2022, a grieving and struggling TK is compelled to talk to Owen about his 2020 overdose, which leads him to remember when his addiction nearly killed him years before. In 2023, TK asks Carlos about his history with alcohol. (Note: Chapter features TK using and gets fairly graphic)

Chapter 6: One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor

TK and Carlos compare notes on when they first came out – with Carlos spiraling in 2011 after an unexpected outburst, while TK in 2008 is embraced (and embarrassed) by his parents. In 2021, both handle the raw days of their breakup differently too.

Chapter 7: A Boy's Best Friend

In 2009, Gabriel attempts to connect with his increasingly distant and unhappy teenage son. In 2013, the fallout of Carlos leaving Iris has begun, and he knows his relationship with his parents will never be the same. In 2023, TK tries to talk to Gabriel about the bombshell revelation that Carlos doesn’t want kids.

Chapter 8: Your Heart, As If It Was My Very Own

In 2011, TK is left bewildered after he loses his virginity. Years later, with Carlos, TK's mind (among other things) is blown in a whole new way. In 2022, TK has an important conversation with a certain visitor when he wakes from his coma.

Chapter 9: Coffee with Gutiérrez

In September 2023, Carlos seeks an important but painful truth from Gutiérrez, and finds an unexpected ally within the 126. Two months later in Blue Moon Diner, TK gets ready to tell Carlos more about his past in New York.

Chapter 10: The Day Begins Like Any Other

In 2016, after TK experiences an assault and sees an old friend again under devastating circumstances, he makes a life-altering decision when his dealer suggests he try something new. In 2009, TK is attacked at school. (Note: Please heed the tags and the chapter note. Reader discretion advised. Look after your hearts).

Chapter 11: Lonely as a Sparrow in the Rain

When Carlos confesses to TK about where he went with Judd back in September – and why – TK has to tell Carlos something he won't want to hear. In 2014, a rift develops when Carlos shows off his new Camaro to his parents.

Chapter 12: Happy For You, Son

Before moving to Austin, TK falls out with his parents over his relationship with Alex. In December 2020, it's a different story as Carlos hosts Owen and Gwyn for TK's birthday meal. In 2012, Carlos has some unexpected news for his own parents, but Michelle tries to intervene. When TK and Carlos get engaged a decade later, Gabriel has something to say about it.

Chapter 13: The Risk of Love

In May 2023, Owen and TK save a spiraling Carlos from making the biggest mistake of his life when he thinks he’s found his father’s killer. In 2020, TK and Carlos become boyfriends beneath a sky full of aurora borealis.

Chapter 14: A Night Worth Celebrating

On a rainy night in 2020, TK and Carlos meet for the first time. In 2023, weeks after their big talk at Blue Moon, TK celebrates his thirtieth birthday with his husband, their family and their friends by his side – and Carlos is a little bit better at sharing his secrets.

Read on A03

#Where All This Love Comes From #Flashback Fic #cig fic #my fic #Tarlos #tarlos fanfic #tk strand x carlos reyes #I've been working on this since March so I'm beyond delighted and relieved to share it #Thank you so much for reading if you do - I cannot explain how much I appreciate it

[acidnhuskerdust]

A bit of something to rattle on your brain: Angel makes it into heaven, but freaks out and demands/begs to send a message to heaven because he knows what had to happen to get there

"No, no no fuck no! Husk! I have to get a message to Husk, tell him okay." ;x;

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

This is a good one, because even though getting into heaven is supposed to be a good thing, I feel like Angel would be absolutely devastated to be there without Husk.

Instead of Sir Pentious getting into heaven, Angel does.

i need him (Husk x Angel)

Dark.

That's all Angel could perceive, an all-consuming blackness so deep he couldn't even discern his own form. It left him wondering if his eyes were truly open. The sensation was more than unsettling; it was downright terrifying.

The final imaged seared into his memory was that of Husk, with tears glistening in those golden eyes, begging for him to stay.

"Don't go, I need you. I lov-"

He clung onto those unfinished word as if they were his life line. He knew what he was going to say, and fuck would he do anything to say it back.

As his mind races with too many thoughts, he closes his eyes tight. Maybe, just maybe, if he let himself fall asleep, he could escape this torment. He yearned for never ending unconsciousness, he didn't want to face these thoughts, didn't want to acknowledge this existence. He should be dead, more so then he already was.

But just as he willed his eyes to seal shut, a piercing light sliced through the darkness, searing through his closed eyelids. With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes snapped open, instantly surrounded by hues of blue and gold. His gaze darted around frantically, is this some corner of Hell he's never seen before? Was he safe?

Then, his eyes locked onto two pairs of eyes staring back at him, one radiating sheer excitement while the other wore an expression of what could only be described as disgusted surprise.

Angels?

"What... What the fuck?" Angel stammers, instinctively taking a step back. "Where am I?"

One of the angels clasp her hands together, her entire being seeming to shimmer with excitement. Her eyes, wide and filled with wonder, locked onto Angel's "You're in Heaven!"

Angel recoils, taking another retreating step, his pulse thundering in his ears. "H-Heaven..." The word felt foreign, surreal as he echoed it. His gaze sweeps across the room again, a frown settling on his lips. "Is this... Some sorta joke?"

The taller angel, exuding a more composed aura, shook her head. "I'm afraid not, it appears Charlie was correct..."

Angel falls silent, his eyes flitted from one corner of the room to another, unable to settle on one thing. He should have felt a wave of relief wash over him, he was safe, in Heaven no less! But instead, a deep seated ache throbbed in his heart, and a weight seemed to press down on his chest.

Husk.

"No..." The word slipped from Angel's lips, a mere whisper laced with dread.

"No?" The elder angel echoed, a hint of confusion lacing her tone.

Angel runs a hand through his hair, his breaths coming in short, rapid gasps. "N-no! I need ta get back, right now!" His voice grows more desperate, more insistent.

This wasn't his home, this wasn't his friends, his... Family. He doesn't want to be here, he never really wanted to in the first place, not since Husk and him grew closer...

The smaller angel rises from her seat, a gentle look etched on face as she approaches Angel. "I understand that you're shocked, we are too, but-"

"Ya don't understand," Angel cuts in, his voice strained. His hand clutches at his hair, "I gotta see him, I need him." His plea was raw and real, he didn't care for anything else besides Husk.

"You can't." The elder angel asserted with a voice that brooked no argument, rising up from her seat.

"What do ya mean I can't?!" Angel's voice spiked with desperation. "Ya guys come down to slaughter us, and now ya tell me ya can't ferry me back?!"

She raises her hand, a silent request for quiet. Angel drew in a deep, ragged breath. "You can't right now. We need... To understand how you are here in the first place." She explains.

"Ta hell with that! Ya can't just hold me captive, please, you're not getting it." His voice was laced with rising panic. He shouldn't be here, he can't be here, Husk wasn't here. What was the point of being in Heaven if he was kept from the one he loved most?

He was scared. So fucking scared.

The smaller angel bridged the gap between them, her hand reaching out to tenderly grasp his own. As he gazed down at her through a veil of tears, his breath hitched, a sob wrenching free from the depths of his being.

"It's going to be okay," She murmurs in a soothing tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I promise you'll be able to see whoever you want, just give us some time, okay?"

Angel clenched his eyes tight, his tears carving warm, damp trails down the fur of his cheeks. He fought for the need to plead, to go back, because in the end he should count his blessing he was here.

Finally, he nods his head. "O-okay." He wipes away his tears with the back of his fist. "Can.. Can we at least send him a message? Let him know... Let him know I'm okay?"

"We sure can." The younger one smiles up at him. "My name is Emily."

"Angel."

"A fitting name for where you are now, huh?" She lets out a soft giggle, filling the space between them. "Come on, let's go and get you a room. You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

Angel feels his breath steady as the seconds pass, Emily's presence provided him a comfort that he needed so very badly. He can be patient, he can wait, he will see him again.

He will tell him how much he loves him.

#angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #angelhusk #my writing

[judebelle]

Gavi breaking up with the reader bc he needs space and stuff and she takes it really hard and it affects her a lot but he realizes he was wrong for it and gets her back. Just a lot of angst but fluff ending plssss. You are the bestttt

rekindled - p.g. x reader

authors note : thank you guys for the love on my recent posts, and for sending in requests. psa, the more requests i get, the more motivated i am and the more i post!

cw : just heart wrenching angst for the most part, but it gets fluffy dwww!!, swearing, sad :(

wc : 2.3k

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

---

“i just don’t have the time for you anymore!”

his words truly devastated you, tearing apart the delicate threads of your heart. couldn’t he at least try? why was he just giving up?

“i don’t understand why we can’t just try to work it out, pablo! we could compromise, we can even make a schedule.. we could make it work!”

it seemed like only you were really trying, and he seemed eager to end this relationship. over what? a busy schedule? you felt useless, standing in his empty home, the echoes of your voices ringing in your ears. it was as if you were singlehandedly trying to stop a sinking ship from descending deep into the dark and bottomless blue.

“it’s not that easy, y/n! i have a lot on my plate! between football practices and matches, i barely have time for myself anymore. and then adding on this relationship, i need to make time for you as well! its too much. i know you wouldn't understand but-"

"i wouldn't understand? what is that supposed to mean? there are two people in this relationship. and it's not like i sit around all day and do nothing! i also have my own things to do! you make it seem like i am so high maintenance, like i'm too much for you to handle!"

you were growing increasingly angry as the argument progressed. how little did he think of you?

"you know that's not what i meant.."

you sniffled, "i dont think i know you at all anymore."

---

it had been a week since the break up.

you tried not to let it affect you too much, but his absence left a crater in your heart you were left too weak to fill.

the breakup casted a shadow over the once vibrant hues of your life. you found yourself dealing with the aftermath of shattered love. you were picking up the shattered pieces of your heart, the sharp glass cutting through the skin of your hands. you felt the pain during tearful nights when sleep also abandoned you, and in the empty spaces that once resonated with shared laughter.

the breakup left an indelible mark on you.

you didn't call anybody. you just sat at home. it was like pablo's words became your new reality, now you were truly sitting around all day and doing nothing.

you hadn't heard from him at all, thanking the universe knowing that if you did, it would be too much on your aching heart.

---

one month had passed.

you were finally feeling like yourself again. yes, you missed his warm embrace and touching words, but you learned to live without it.

you couldn't depend on someone to be the sole reason for your happiness. you still loved him, and you always will, but fuck did he cut deep.

---

pablo's pov

pablo found himself grappling with an unexpected wave of regret.

the relentless demands of his busy life had driven a wedge between the two of you, leaving him to confront the harsh reality of what he had lost.

pablo now spent the time he would've spent with you alone, in his home. he didn't hang out with friends. he didn't go out for dinner, just ordered food to his house. he felt lonely and bored without you.

how ironic.

the void left by your absence became easily recognizable to everyone around him, and he began to yearn for the warmth of your shared moments.

but pablo kept the painful truth of your breakup to himself, unable to utter the words aloud to anyone.

"hey bro, what's on your mind?"

he felt an arm drape across his shoulders, startling him from his thoughts.

pablo was at barcelona's training grounds, and didn't realize his slumped posture and absentminded features were noticeable to anyone but him.

pedro was walking next to him, his arm slung around the back of his neck.

"hola?? what's up with you?" pedro was insisting on finding out why his close friend was acting so strange.

"sorry, just tired.. didn't get much sleep last night." in all honesty, he hadn't. he spent most of his night lying awake, thinking of how badly he had messed up. his screen time was through the roof, scrolling through your feed and posts, reminiscing on what was once his, about the warm soul that would sleep next to him in this very bed.

"ai, don't lie now. you know i can see right through you. what's wrong, bro?" pedro wasn't giving up, pestering pablo on his silence.

pablo gulped and turned to his friend, "i.. i messed up bad bro, like really bad..".

he didn't elaborate further, unable to bring himself to come to terms with what he had done.

"uhh, that's cool and all, but it would be helpful if you explained, man. i can't help you if you dont tell m-"

"i broke up with y/n."

pablo shut his mouth after, the words leaving the bitter taste of regret in his mouth. he might've said that too loudly, causing some staff members and teammates to look his direction.

pedro didn't seem to believe it, raising his eyebrow at the boy.

"you what? wha... when?"

everyone who knew pablo knew that he was absolutely smitten with you. you were always on his mind, and he was quick to talk about you if he had the chance. it annoyed his friends sometimes, but it was cute how much he loved you.

the fact that he had broken up with you was appalling.

"around a month ago.." pablo confessed, his hands hidden behind his back like a guilty child. "i told her i was too busy to focus on our relationship, and i told her that i needed to focus on my career. it's honestly a load of bullshit. i think i was just stressed and took it out on her."

pedro's confusion was evident, his eyebrows drawn together.

"i don't understand, bro. your schedule was never an issue for you before. and why didn't you tell me? i could've, i don't know, been there for you!"

it was like pablo was being scolded, and he really did deserve it. he'd lost you because of his own stress and poor time management. you didn't deserve to suffer because of him.

"pablo, what were you thinking? i mean, i can't believe it! i would've never expected you to- okay, i'm sorry.." pedro stopped his lecturing upon seeing his friend growing increasingly upset. "my advice to you is to go apologize. and not just a quick 'sorry', but a good one. get her flowers, chocolate - i don't know, whatever chicks like. just go say sorry."

pablo looked up at his friend, hesitation on his features. "what if she doesn't take me back? w-what would i do then?" he stuttered. he was worried you would realize how big of an asshole he was, and how much he didn't deserve you.

"i mean, i wouldn't blame her," pedro smiled teasingly. "but i know y/n pretty well, she would understand." he laid a comforting hand on pablo's shoulder. "don't sweat it bro, it'll all be okay."

---

your pov

you were currently sprawled across your couch, stuffing popcorn in your mouth as you binged a show you had already seen a million times.

the bell rang.

that hadn't happened in a while. the unfamiliar sound rang in your head before you pulled yourself up from your comfortable position, walking to the door. you yanked the door open, popcorn still in your mouth.

you looked up to see the man you thought you'd never see again.

"..hola.." he whispered before sending you a soft smile. you froze in your spot. not knowing what to do as you weren't expecting this at all.

it was like you'd turned cold from shock. you acted before you thought, slamming the door on his face. you scrambled to fixed your hair and finish chewing your popcorn.

giving yourself a moment to breathe and think, you quickly opened the door again, worried he might leave. surprisingly, he was still standing there, waiting for you.

"can i come in?"

---

you let him in, of course. how could you not?

he walked in with a hunched back. his feet dragged against the floor wearily.

you told him to sit on the couch and wait as you grabbed two waters, one for him, and one for you.

the unexpected arrival of pablo, whom you thought had become a distant echo of the past, sent tremors through the newly rebuilt walls around your heart.

is there a possibility of rekindling what was once lost?

you finally dragged yourself out of the kitchen and back into the living room to where pablo was sitting with his legs shaking anxiously and his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. there were still popcorn crumbs on the couch, the halfway eaten bowl of it placed on the table across from the paused movie displayed on the tv.

oh, how you wish he warned you before showing up at your doorstep.

he turned his head to see you standing tensely in the doorframe. he smiled awkwardly as he scooted over to give you some space to sit far from him.

you sat down and placed the waters on the table in front of you. you took a deep breath before gulping hard. you eventually found the courage to croak out a few words.

"what happened, is everything alright?"

the air was thick, the unspoken history you shared lingering in the air. his eyes were red and cratered by bags. he tried to hide the lines on his face by putting on a decent outfit and gelling his hair back, but you saw right through his façade.

"i just.. wanted to apologize.."

your silence was his cue to continue speaking.

sitting in the soft glow of your living room, pablo took a deep breath before breaking the heavy silence.

"i need you to know how sorry i am for what i did, y/n. breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life, and i've spent every day regretting it. i miss you, not just the idea of you, but you - the way you laugh, the way you challenge me... i was foolish, and i can't keep living my life without you in it. i came here to make things right, to find a way for us to work through the challenges together. can we try again? can you forgive me?" His vulnerable pleas hung in the air while also knocking you down like heavy wind.

your gaze flickered with a mix of surprise as pablo's heartfelt words settled in the room. the weight of his apology hung between you, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch as you discerned the sincerity in his eyes.

you took a moment before responding, your voice a sorrowful blend of vulnerability and caution.

"pablo, you hurt me deeply when you walked away. i've spent nights replaying those moments, the day you left me, wondering if i meant as much to you as you say now...". The room held a fragile hope as your eyes locked.

in a desperate plea, pablo's words spilled forth with an intensity so raw it stung in the depths of your heart. his eyes reflected the sincerity of his emotions. "y/n, i can't imagine my life without you. every moment without you feels like a void i can't fill. i was foolish, and i let something so precious slip away." his voice wavered with a mix of regret and hope, showing the depth of his desire to rebuild what was lost.

"please, i'm begging you, give me another chance. i know i hurt you, and i'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. i've learned from my mistakes, and i'm not the same person who walked away. i love you, and i'm ready to fight for us. please, take me back."

you listened to pablo's heartfelt pleas carefully. after a thoughtful pause, you spoke with a calm and resolute tone,

"pablo, i appreciate your honesty and the effort you're putting into this. it's not easy to admit mistakes, and i can see the sincerity in your eyes. but i need some space to process everything. let's take things one step at a time."

pablo quietly absorbed your response. he nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of his actions. "i understand, y/n," he said with a quiet sincerity,

"i know i hurt you, and i can't expect you to erase that pain overnight. i'm here, whenever you're ready." his words left a subtle sting on your heart. he raised up from the couch, before leaving with the same hunch of his back and drag of his steps that he entered with.

the sound of the door latching closed sent a stab through your heart. your eyes began to water as the painful image of him leaving stuck in your mind.

you were standing in the doorway, and felt a sudden surge of clarity and yearning. spontaneously, you threw the door open and rushed after him, the urgency to convey your changing feelings propelling you forward. "pablo!" you called out, running down the driveway, and as he turned in surprise, you closed the distance between you. without a word, you reached out, cupped his face in your hands, and pressed your lips to his. his hands wrapped around your waist as he dipped you forward slightly, embracing your warmth and forgiveness. your brows furrowed into the kiss as you felt the craters in your heart fill slowly.

the kiss was heavy, holding many unspoken emotions—forgiveness, longing, and the realization that sometimes, the heart finds its way back when the connection is too strong to resist.

in that moment, under the dim streetlights, things changed between you two, and it seemed as though the process of reconciliation was beginning to unfold.

#gavi #pablo gavi #gavi smut #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi smut x reader #pablo gavi angst x reader #pablo gavi angst #gavi angst x reader #gavi angst #pablo gavi fanfic #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff x reader #pablo gavi fluff #gavi smut x reader #gavi fluff x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #football x reader #football #neybelle #fem!reader #football smut #smut #angst #fluff #football fanfic #judebelle

[nicxl333]

SEPARATE WAYS— GETO SUGURU X FEM!READER

summary: why should he stay with you if you don’t see his way of thinking?

content: fluff, angst, teen!geto, teen!gojo

i won’t lie to you, i didn’t proof read this so mistakes are probably imminent

life used to be so good. specifically when geto asked you out during second year at jujutsu high.

“suguru just do it you pussy. too afraid she’ll say no?”

“stop pestering me satoru. i don’t want to hear shit from someone who can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a week.”

“at least i get girls. can you say the same, loner?”

“you know, i’d insult you, but i’d have to explain it to you after, so forget it.”

gojo held his hands up in defeat, knowing arguing would get him nowhere.

“i’m just saying, she won’t stay on the market forever. who knows, maybe i’ll sweep her off her feet one day.”

and he walked off.

it had been months of geto having a never ending crush on you. the more he saw you the worse it got. not to mention the times you’d be partnered up on missions together. the care you held for his wellbeing especially when he was injured made his heart swell, healed his wounds ten times better than your RCT could ever hope to.

he swore to himself day by day that he’d eventually grow a pair and ask you out. maybe to a movie or a picnic. something romantic where he could truly show you the best version of himself. but when the time would come he would freeze, the common fear of rejection weighing over his body, holding his tongue down.

until he saw gojo actually making a move on you by the classroom door one day, his hand positioned above your head while your back was stood against the wall.

fuck no. fat chance in hell he’d let you be taken from him by the likes of gojo. of all people.

4 long strides was all it took for him to be standing adjacent to you. you turned from gojo to look at his agitated face, staring down gojo. if looks could kill, consider gojo in the morgue.

“oh, suguru, did you need me for something? guess you can give me those class notes some other time then y/n.”

fucking gojo, of course he’d pull some stunt like this.

although geto guessed that did give him the push he needed. actually seeing the possibility of you being taken scared him into actually doing something for once.

“not you dimwit, i need to talk to y/n.”

your eyes widened at this. what could he possibly need you for? little did he know you also had a devastatingly abnormal crush on him too, and you didn’t know if you could handle the proximity as it was, with him towering over you like that.

gojo held out his arms in faux devastation.

“alas, let me go venture for someone who truly cares.” he then winked at you.

trust gojo to be fucking obvious.

it was then brought to geto’s attention it was just him and you.

shit. he’d actually have to say something.

“so. y/n, i was… well i wanted to know if-”

fucking hell was this going well.

you tilted your head at him stumbling over his words. what happened to the confident, headstrong guy you knew and loved relatively liked?

“suguru, are you okay?”

fuuuck. he could’ve actually melted at you saying his name. your voice was so soft and soothing. he had to have you now.

“y/n. i need you to know something. i like you. like really badly. you’re constantly on my mind all day and i wouldn’t want anyone else if they’re not you. i understand if you don’t feel the same and we could just continue as before…”

while he was rambling you stood there shocked at his confession. you couldn’t believe he liked you back this whole time. it almost felt too easy.

“suguru.”

nothing. he was still rambling on. it seemed he was lost at this point. so you did what seemed right.

he paused heavily after feeling a pair of soft, cushioned lips against his own.

you were kissing him? did this mean you felt the same way?

he paused mid sentence and kissed you back, hands gently gripping your waist. you pulled his hair out of its bun and tangled your fingers in his strands, deepening the kiss.

sadly, breathing is a mandatory thing so the both of you eventually pulled back for air.

“does that answer your question?”

“wow. um…yeah definitely.” he placed his hand behind his head before continuing;

“i want to ask you right though, would you do me the honour of going on a date with me?”

you smiled at him brightly, bringing him into a tight hug.

“of course i would.”

—

soon enough one date turned into 3, and that evening, on top of a random skyscraper turned picnic setting, you became geto’s official girlfriend.

everything ran smooth, both parties were happy, and life was good.

until it wasn’t.

when the star plasma vessel riko died, geto’s persona changed. you noticed throughout the year you were dating how he changed, becoming more and more distant by the day, until the geto you once knew and loved was once again no more, only this time in a much more sour light.

nevertheless you stuck by him. 2 long years, hoping that he’d one day wake up and things would return back to normal.

that worked, right up until he grew tired of you. endless arguments and neglect on his part was bound to reach it’s breaking point.

“suguru please, i can’t keep doing this with you anymore. have you just forgotten about everyone who’s ever cared about you. what about satoru? what about me?”

he spared you one glance before turning his head back towards the end of the room.

“tell me this y/n, do you follow my beliefs? do you believe just as much as i do that humanity is scum and deserves to cease to exist?”

“suguru you know just as well as i do that you’re alone in that belief.”

he came closer, lifting your chin up with two fingers so he could look directly into your eyes, his own cold and devoid of emotion.

“so why am i wasting my time with you then?”

your eyes widened. as much as he had turned into a national dickhead, up till now he had never made it seem like your relationship was pointless.

he smirked at you and dropped his fingers from your chin, your head falling forward with them.

“let’s be clear y/n, until you can see it in yourself to take up my values, consider us done. don’t come looking for me. it won’t be friendly as it is now.”

you couldn’t do anything but stand there, confused how things came to be. one thing was evident though. geto wouldn’t change his mind. and with how he just disrespected you, you were reluctant to stay in his presence any longer.

and so, with a heavy heart and desolate mood, you walked away.

away from him and your crumbling relationship.

#geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #geto x you #geto x reader #geto suguru #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojo satoru #fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk s2 #jjk season 2 #angst

[qinluofu]

sae & rin itoshi with a neglected reader part 2 / part 1 ! ✧　　⁺　➥　heavy themes, gn!reader dies, delusions, bad writing, death is accidental, not proof read

"a weird one - unlike any of the brothers" "i agree, they seem desperate" "must've been hard to be overshadowed" "hush !! if you say it that loud they might h-" SLAM

it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red. it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red.

your parents were disappointed. they gave you everything you had and you had the audacity to harm someone over some small words? maybe you are the black sheep of the family. "You need to learn how to control your anger and ..." the tears prevented you from hearing properly, words igniting a deep fire in your heart. you wanted to run away, so fast, away but something was holding you back. your neck felt like it was pinched by thorns - your eyes were hurting. "we're off." your parents stood up and walked to the door. was this abandonment? why was this scene so familiar before? it was the same hair color, walking together out of that damn door and leaving you behind - for a moment you manage to raise up your hand and tried to call out to them. "sae....rin" where are they?

life was seemingly getting better, you wore the same clothes everyday, looked at the same things everyday, ate the same things everyday. walking along the grassy fields, you don't know where you were, your legs hurt and you were dazed, the fire in your heart growing more larger by the second. it was a hot day. water. you needed water. where's water? those words seemingly registered in your brain and your exhausted legs took you to a place where it felt oh so similar. oh. it was a public pool, how nice - exactly where water was. the sounds of whirring were surrounding you. in the middle of the pool, was sae and rin in their floaties. wait. sae and rin ? really ? they looked at you with warming eyes and waved their hands at you - beckoning you to come over. you jumped into the pool. so this is where they were. you don't even question it, you were happily playing the water with your brothers - when has life ever been this relaxing? for some reason, it felt truly good to be in the water this time - that fire in your heart has been such a bother, the water in the pool dimmed it immediately.

sae never thought he was a bad brother, he just thought he had too little time. he saw your texts, saw your glances, saw you liking his every post on social ( wait he knows your user ? ) but tough luck - he doesn't know how to respond to all of this. he was devastated when the awkward relationship with rin started, he just never thought caring for your feelings.

sae doesn't know anything but football. he wants to tell you he cares and that you will always be the very best sibling he could ever have, even up until now he collects and favourites every image of the two of you together, some with rin too maybe.

to properly explain his love for you, is like this : he loves you, he really does, and he wishes he could have more time for you.

rin is so not aware of his actions - he thought that sae was being a good brother to you so he automatically assumes you have an awkward assumption about him too.

rin thinks, that sae is doing the part of brother and sister with you, without needing him. and it hurts him, he wouldn't admit it though. it hurts to have sae throw their dreams out the window and now he wants to hog all your attention too.

he thinks he's doing the most, sae has your time and he will never be able to fit in the picture. after all - only the best footplay player can properly protect such an innocent person.

it was when sae and rin walked to the beach - not expecting to see each other. oh well, they could just do a mean little bump, a hi and walk along.

when their shoulders were about to meet each other, sae suddendly stopped walking which makes rin glance over and sae tugs his arm - tightly. what? "there's somebody jumping off the bridge." sae said, a bit shakily. rin turns his head back. "is that-" rin stops. and the both of them dashed. sae called the ambulance and rin went over to the edge of the beach, trying to figure out what he just saw. he was so certain it was you, but why would it to be you? you had no reason too, right? "..." your body was gently carried out of the dark sea, not very hard to find you considering all you did was plunge down into the water. rin's body was numb, he couldn't control his limbs, he fell down. sae tried to dash over to your cold body but the authorities stopped him and told him to back away. never has he ever felt so desperate, such want for something. but.. don't you look a little weird? your clothes were tattered, rashes and bruises were placed all over your body, it was like you were abandoned on the streets. "i thought you were looking after them" rin stated - not questioning, just a statement. "isn't it the other way around?" sae replied back, wanting to push the blame onto rin. there was no way this had happened. he refused to admit that his lack of attention to you caused this. it had to be someone, rin maybe. "there's no point in being the best at something, if you cannot bested your feelings" rin spat out, pushing the blame back. sae is the oldest, right? he should have taken care of you. both of them stared at each other's gazes you were playing water with them, with cool floaties the blame wasn't pushed anymore, it was divided within their hearts you went to get a hot chocolate with marshmellows, rin and sae having energy drinks the blame was so heavy they felt the sting, feeling the coldness of your body on their faces you went home with sae and rin, hand in hand

sae and rin never recovered. the nights were as cold as a dead body. sometimes sae cried and cried, rin suddenly sharing a room with his brother again, cried too - never stopped until the morning where the sun rises and dries off the water. was this also how you felt? texts were answered years later but no responses. "i thought you were looking after them." "i thought i did enough." "what if-" "there are no what ifs anymore." silence followed. then sniffles and tears.

your room collected dust overtime, the curtains covering up your window perfectly - to block off any nosy people. sae sometimes goes inside your room, sits on the floor. rin would silently knock on the door, hoping someone would open it. sometimes, rin would find sae sitting on the floor and joins him too - as they dream of another day

a/n : for further explanation - reader was abandoned by their parents and they left reader alone, thus why eat drink and wear the same thing. they were in a state of delusion and their legs instinctively took them to the sea where they often gazed with sae and rin. even at their last moments they really loved sae and rin so ya & i found a nice discord username finally omg im happy w this one

#sae itoshi #rin itoshi #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock angst #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n

[cod-dump]

Hello, Mike! Sad question incoming!

In the au where Nikolai is Soap’s bio dad, how would he react to his death?

First post mentioning Nik being Soap’s bio dad

———

Regret

———

He didn’t go with them when they went to spread his ashes in Scotland. He gave Price a part of them then took the rest, no one saying a word about him not being there.

Nik took them there, flew them out and told them about Soap’s favorite trail that they would go on when he was a kid. It was sad he couldn’t really name any current, something that would haunt him. Nik would have regret not doing more with his son outside of work. He should’ve been there more, tried to reach out sooner even though he believed his boy wanted nothing to do with him.

He will forever be haunted by that regret, that anger with himself for not doing more. But he couldn’t imagine the pain his mother was dealing with. Nik chose to be the one to tell her, even though it had been years since they last spoken in person. He felt so numb during it all as he went to her house — The house that Soap would grow up in without Nik being a part of it.

He knocked after a deep breath. Nik had to steel himself, ready for the onslaught of emotion that was to come from his ex-wife and the mother of his child. The look on her face when she opened the door and saw him was first shock, then anger, then confusion.

“Nikolai?”

“Linda.”

The crack in his voice made fear take over her features, every muscle visibly tensing as she gripped the door frame.

“What happened?”

Nik’s voice failed him for a moment, knowing what he was about to say will break them both. He hadn’t said it yet, out loud, of what happened to Soap, to their Johnny. He had heard it plenty of times before, almost immediately after it happened. He’s screamed, cried, raged — Every emotion he has felt. And now he’s settled at silent regret, and once he says it out loud, it’ll start all over again.

“Johnny’s dead.”

It came out blunter than what he intended but there is no gentle way to tell a mother her son is dead.

Linda stared at him without a change in her expression for five seconds before she started shaking her head.

“No… No-“

He couldn’t look at her, he felt a crushing weight shake him as he watched Linda’s world come crashing down under it. She clung to the door frame, chanting ‘no’ as tears began to stream down her face.

As expected, she turned to anger.

“You’re lying!”

“Linda-“

“He’s not- Why would you say that?! Do you hate me that much? To cause me that pain?!”

Nik said nothing more, he knew his voice would give out if he tried. He just listened to her yell, deny their son’s death, and cry. It was devastating watching the woman who he once loved, the woman who he had a child with, break. Her rage would melt away to pure devastation, and she would look him in the eyes and scream.

Then the door would slam, and Nik would be standing there alone. He didn’t even make it off the porch, failing onto the steps with a great heaviness before he broke. He didn’t scream like he did the first time, didn’t feel the intense overwhelming feeling of it all. He just cried, feeling like a true failure. A father who failed his child.

A child without parents has a name: Orphan. What is a parent who lost their child called? For Nik, no single word could ever describe what he was feeling, the hole in his heart that will never be fixed. There was no word for that. No word that truly showed that pain, no word that when spoken someone would understand it.

He would sit there, truly broken. And the door would open behind him, and Nik would tense as a hand lightly touches his shoulder. He turned his head to see Linda, drained of life. Her hand remained on his shoulder.

“I… please come inside.”

And he did.

Linda asked about what happened and they cried together. They were the same in that moment, they had both lost something irreplaceable. Johnny was gone and neither would ever be the same. He had expected her to bring up his career, repeat that old argument that he negatively influenced Soap and made him idolize the military and war. But she didn’t. She didn’t need to, Nik had thought it moments after he was sat down and told what happened.

That regret was a complex emotion. He didn’t just regret not being there for his son, he regretted him being the one putting him there. Johnny was so smart, Linda and Nik wanted him to go to college and get an engineering degree. Pursue that persistent fascination of the stars and space he had since he was a toddler. But Johnny didn’t do that, he wanted to be just like his dad.

Nik would forever have that hang over him, and Linda knew that.

Under Linda’s request they cremated him. Nik had made no objections, neither wanted to have a funeral. That is not how they wanted to remember their boy, cold and dead before them. She gave 141 some of his ashes, the rest was for her and Nik.

And as Price, Ghost, and Gaz made their way up that trail to those cliffs, Linda and Nik went elsewhere.

“He loved it here… told me he missed coming here with you.”

The house that Nik had owned when he still had split custody over Johnny was a place he had a hard time being. He never sold it or abandoned it. He maintained it but never lived there. He couldn’t, especially not now. That place was for him and his son. It was not a home without him.

The woods behind the house was Johnny’s playground, Nik would’ve bought him an entire forest to make him happy. But the fifteen acre patch of woodland was just enough for Johnny. The stream behind the house was one of his favorite places to go. He would try to catch fish or any small critter and bring them back to the house. It still flowed gently, even after all these years. The birds sang, the breeze was welcoming. It felt unfitting for the occasion.

“I remember that model boat I got him. Took us a couple weeks to build it and seal it… just so he could watch it flow down the stream.”

Linda sniffled before she reached into her bag and pulled out the small wooden vessel. It was more cardboard than wood, biodegradable. And it held what was left of Johnny.

“I was so mad when he came home for the school year with his new church pants torn…” Linda smiled sadly, looking at the tiny boat.

“I told him to change but he didn’t listen,” Nik spoke, smiling softly at the memory.

“He was a stubborn boy, nothing you could’ve done.”

Nik swallowed hard, looking away from the stream and into the trees.

“Nothing we could’ve done to change his mind,” Linda said softly.

Another breeze would sweep through the trees, birds singing another chorus of their wordless song and the stream would continue to flow and laugh. The world would continue spinning, no matter what.

Linda kneeled by the stream and Nik would follow. She would stare down at the boat before she placed it in the water. And the stream would take it. They watched it go down the stream, and for a moment Nik could see a boy racing alongside it, dirty pants and wild hair.

The stream would take him everywhere, just like the ocean and breeze will. He was always so free. And now he forever will be.

———

Is this canon to this au? Nah but it’s good writing practice. Little projection at the end

MWIII didn’t happen :)

#angst #call of duty #modern warfare #cod mwiii #modern warfare iii #cod nikolai #john soap mactavish #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #drabble #ficlet #nik is soap’s dad

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day four)

summary; the lines between friends and more grow so blurred you can barely see them anymore, and you're forced to really think about what more would mean.

word count; 11,442

notes; I don't know how this ended up being one of the longest parts when I had planned for it to be one of the shortest. this part is dedicated to @azsazz. no reason. just because I love her.

Waking up in the Winter Court each morning had felt more like a dream than reality the past few days, and yet, this morning was something else entirely. Not only was it surreal because you woke up to the snowy hills outside instead of the stretching scenery of Velaris, or the smell of peppermint and sugar in the air instead of warm spices and dew, but this morning was special. 

This morning was like a daydream you only ever allowed yourself to have when you were alone, and a little tipsy. This was a morning you had forced yourself not to think about for so long. 

Amongst the golden rays of sunlight bouncing in from the slit where the curtains had fallen open, snow was still tinkering down outside, soft flakes falling upon mountains and mountains of white, just the sight of it was enough to make a chill go through you. You were more than warm, however, as one heavy wing lay over your body, red and brown as morning light shone through the membranous leather, a thick arm over your waist, the other still stretched out under your head. 

Azriel’s eyes were closed, lips parted just enough to let out steady breaths, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones. He was always beautiful, but up close, a sight that you were lucky enough to be one of the few to ever see, he was devastating. A soft smatter of barely-there freckles over his nose, distant and faded against his tan skin, only broken up by the occasional mole or tiny scar, only visible when you were within a breath’s distance from him. 

Your legs were still tangled together, bodies close enough that every time he breathed his chest almost reached your own. You weren’t sure when you’d been moved, you’d never been such a wavy sleeper but with Azriel by your side, it seemed your mind could truly turn off, as he’d laid you down properly to sleep, and then stayed. A silly smile was playing on your face as you drowned in the early morning bliss of it all. 

There wasn’t even any noise from the corridors, no staff bustling up and down, nor Cassian banging on your door before the sun had even risen to remind you of training. No, it was utterly peaceful, and you let your eyes slip back closed, daring to shuffle a little closer to him. 

One hand squeezed your hip, slow and light, but enough to let you know that he was awake like you, and despite the flush that was beginning to bloom on your cheeks at having been caught, your eyes stayed closed. He let out a particularly heavy sigh, smoothing his hand down from your hip after one final squeeze to your lower back, before pushing your body closer to his own, a gasp slipping from you. 

When his nose brushed against your temple, you found the will to open your eyes again, this time met with his shining hazel as he blinked sleepily, a lazy smile crawling onto his lips as he adjusted his head on the pillow to make space for your own. He didn’t speak, and so neither did you, not for several long moments as you simply lay. He wasn’t nearly as bashful as you, it seemed, not as he let his gaze scan over every inch of your face, his fingers smoothing up and down along your spine in slow patterns that tickled enough to make you shiver, drinking in every new detail like you’d done to him only minutes ago. 

“Why don’t we do this back home?” Your voice wouldn't reach above a whisper, not even the two of you were sealed in such a precious, fragile bubble of peace. His eyes moved back to your lips as you spoke, dragging slowly up to meet your gaze again when you paused, waiting for his answer. 

“This?” He questioned, hand on your back stilling, before dragging you even closer, a satisfied sound leaving him as his eyes slipped closed once again, humming out a breath as his chest brushed yours with each inhale. “What, I don’t cuddle you enough back home?”

You were sure that the tired smirk he wore as he teased you was something that would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life, that and his morning voice, deep and raspy and so low the words vibrated as he spoke. If nothing ever came of this holiday, those would be two things that would torture you for the rest of your days, there would be no forgetting them now. 

Sure, the two of you had your moments, you were a cuddly drunk and he was more than willing to accept your touch, he was affectionate when he was tired, often he would seek you out for a hug or simply to lean on when he returned from long missions. Azriel had never been shy of touching you, nor you of him, but it had never been this; this wonderful, this loving, this intimate.

“Not like this, you don’t.” The words were hard to even force yourself to say, fear and anxiety eating away with every word you spoke, and yet you forced them through. He soothed it all, every skipped heartbeat and nerve, when he leaned in close enough to drag the tip of his nose along your hairline, tucking you against himself, under his chin. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to.. I didn’t know I was welcome.”

Your eyes rolled, even though he couldn't see you, and you dared to lift one arm up, looping it over his waist in return to sit on his back, just under his wings, much like he was on you. Your other hand smoothed up, hovering for a second, before you ran a finger along the underside of his jaw, light enough you worried he may not feel it at all, but the dip of his chin into the touch suggested he did. “You know that you’re always welcome with me, Azriel. You have a place wherever I go, and that’ll never change.”

He smoothed one hand down your back, a reaffirming touch that you wanted to press into, before he was shuffling, just enough to tuck you back under his chin. A happy sigh escaped your lips as you were embraced by his warmth once again. “Well, that’s very good to know.”

You only hummed, mind slipping away to monitor things other than the conversation, and he seemed happy to fall into silence with you once again. The only sounds were that of his occasional heavy breaths, the rustle of the sheets around you as he continued to stroke one large hand up and down your spine slowly, and the winter birds that would chirp and sing beyond the window as they passed the balcony. 

Tangled together beneath the sheets were your legs, one of yours pressed between his, the other thrown over his thigh, toes barely brushing the sheets on the other side. Your bodies were pressed nearly flush together all the way along, his wing sitting across the top of you both, like a shield to the outside world, keeping you sealed away from it all, here, with him. 

His motions slowed, before his hand was slipping down to your hip, his thumb rubbing lazily a couple of times, and the air between you both fired and crackled with the tension of a moment about to be broken. Seconds later, he rolled over a little, a cold air snapping between your bodies as he shifted to lay almost on his back, one wing propping him up at an awkward angle, and he winced a little. 

“We should probably get up.” You mumbled, watching him fold back the other wing to sit tightly against his back, until he was able to roll over, propping himself up among the pillows and rubbing a hand down his face. You didn’t want to leave, and you could tell by the slight sagging of Azriel’s shoulders that neither did he, but you knew Kallias and Vivianne would be expecting you both, a full day ahead. “Ugh, it's cold.”

Like magic, the enchantments in the room flickered a fire to life, logs crackling seconds later in the hearth, and Azriel only chuckled. His mouth dropped open, mirth reflected in his eyes, and you pointed a lazy finger at him. 

“Don’t you dare make a joke like ‘well, we are in Winter Court’.” 

“You can make them, but I can’t? Doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?” He leaned over, poking you sharply in the ribs in a way that made you yelp, jerking away from him, smacking his hand as you went. He was only smirking at you, rolling away to the side of your bed and swinging his legs out. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he was hissing at the temperature. You didn’t get a chance to comment either, the icy look shot over his shoulder as you as he stood was enough to silently warn you off, snickering behind his back having to suffice. 

The laughter didn’t last long, however, as you watched him reach up, stretching both arms high above his head, muscles shifting under his thin shirt, doing little to hide any movement, arms flexing and head rolling back. His lips were parted to let out a little groan as muscles eased and clicks set free tension, his wings flaring right out in a powerful display, all the way until they strained, before flopping back in against his back. 

When he turned, your usually shy and reserved shadowsinger was gone, a smirk on his face as he caught your stare before you could wipe it from your face entirely, and he sent a whole new flush of shock and heat to your face as he winked. One eye closed in a cocky wink, before his hands were on the bed once again, leaning over to brush a kiss on your heated cheek, before standing again. “I’m gonna’ get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast soon.”

He wandered away, proud smile on his lips as he made his way towards his bedroom, leaving you to gape after him as he never turned back. As soon as the door clicked closed, leaving you alone in the rumpled bedsheets, you tried to recall what exactly had happened in the last few moments. 

Somehow, he’d gone from sweet and endearing to teasing and flirty. The body that had been wrapped up around you to keep you warm in a goosebump-inducingly cold room had been stretched and flexed on display for you. The skin atop your cheekbone still tingled with the phantom touch of his lips there, and you had to force your eyes to drag away from the doorway where he had disappeared, embarrassed at yourself for your behaviour. 

Rubbing a hand over your chest in an attempt to get it together, you found your heart running a mile a minute underneath, beating your ribcage in a steady hammering. 

And now, you had to go and attend a breakfast with them all, when your brain was spinning even faster than your heart was racing.  

Well, fuck.

Azriel had been much faster at this preparation than you had been, and he was already flying out across the ice as you still tried to tie up the first of your skates. Of course, he would be a naturally good ice skater. How could he not be? Life was just that fair.

You, however, were still sitting on the benches, feeling like a child as you tugged at the laces to tighten them for the fourth time, sure that by this point you were actually cutting off circulation entirely, scared to even get up and stand on the blades on the soft ground, never mind using them to balance on the surface of a once frozen lake. 

You eyed it again cautiously, searching for any bubbles or ripples, anything that might suggest even a hint of water underneath, a plausible excuse not to go onto it. You found none, and as your eyes flickered over the patrons, you caught sight of Kallias’ teasing grin at your apprehension, and Vivianne’s encouraging smile as she waved you over. Neither even wobbled as they skated in perfect unison, arm in arm around the rink, chatting as they went, like a couple of angels floating over the surface of the ice. 

Standing once again, you were determined to do this, wobbling or not as you tried to find your balance simply standing. It wasn’t quite as bad this time, whether it was the previous three attempts of practice or the laces so tight you had to rock your ankles a little just to check you could still feel them, but you took tentative steps towards the edge of the rink. One foot in front of the other, slowly and carefully, you made your way over, trying not to scowl at the children running clumsily past you on the skates, not a care in the world. 

Waiting there at the entrance as you arrived was Azriel, and you braced yourself for the smirk on his face, a quip about your overly nervous approach, but none came. Instead, he was smiling, holding a single hand out to you as he balanced unfalteringly on the ice, no matter how many people whipped past him at high speeds. 

“C’mon, get it out! I know you’ve got comments to make.”

“What? Me? I would never.” He wiggled his fingers again, and you sighed, staring for a moment longer before slipping your hand into his, feeling his touch warm your skin even through both layers of gloves. As soon as you set one foot onto the slippery ice, your hand was clenching so tightly on Azriel’s you feared you’d hear a ‘pop’ or ‘snap’, and yet as your other foot followed, you were reaching for his other hand, own which he easily supplied as though reading your mind, holding you back just as tightly, and nodding. “You should know me well enough by now, to know that I’ll wait ‘til you fall on your ass to tease you.”

With that, he was skating backwards slowly - rubbing it in your face, you were sure - and tugging you along slowly with him. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

“Is that so?” He laughed, deep and rumbling and it was enough to send slight tremors through his body, ones that made you shake a little on your skates too. Watching the way everyone else was moving, you made a weak attempt to push with one foot. Not yet daring to lift it off of the ice entirely, but it was enough to find how to balance, pushing yourself up a little straighter, pushing a little closer to Azriel, whose eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “See, you’re a natural at this.”

“You’re a natural at this.” Your weakly mumbled snipe was met with more laughter, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over your knuckles as you practised pushing your feet along, gaining a steady balance, enough to stand up properly before him, and his backwards motions began to match your pace. 

“I’m not a natural, I’ve been doing this for centuries.” 

“What?” Your head snapped up, no longer looking at your feet, and you almost lost your balance in shock as you lost your rhythm temporarily, but Azriel was compensation enough, fixing your position and forcing you to pick up a little more speed as you skirt around the edge of the rink. “Since when?”

“Since… always.” His shrug was not enough of an explanation, and a wicked grin curled on his lips at your curiosity. “I’ll tell you more if you lift your foot off of the ice and do a real push.”

You took the bait, one foot lifting right off, and when you pushed down again it was with far too much force, sending your other foot slipping out from underneath you as you flew forwards. In an attempt to rebalance, you used the other foot to try and push your body back, only succeeding in skittering it out to the side and making a pile of ice shavings as you lost your steadiness entirely. 

Your eyes closed, bracing for the impact as you flew backwards, breath knocked from your lungs as you hit the floor, and only when Azriel landed on top of you did you realise you were still gripping both of his hands as you went. You groaned, the solid weight of him on top of you had all but crushed you with the impact, and he tugged one hand free from your hold to place it on the ice beside your head, your fingers slackening on the other so he could do the same again. When your eyes opened, it was to his breathy laugh, his face hovering barely an inch over your own, eyes scanning yours for any real pain or damage. 

“I’m ready for that teasing now.” Your voice trembled as you shook, a pretty smile curling on his lips when he knew you were okay, and his puffed-out laugh clouded in the sliver of space between your faces. 

“You fall, I fall, remember?” A blush was forming on your cheeks, you could feel the cold skin tingling as warmth rushed to it, and it seemed he knew it too, because as he sat back, rocking onto his knees before you and pulling you into a sitting position too, he lifted one hand, smoothing a wet-gloved fingertip over your cheek softly. “C’mon, you were doing so well. Let’s get up.”

“How? I could barely stay up when I was already stood, I’m gonna’ die here on this ice before I can stand up.”

“Absolutely not, because then I would have to die here with you, and I refuse to die here.” He tugged on your joined hands again. “Look, do what I’m doing, and do it quick. My knees are cold, your ass must be freezing.”

“Stop thinkin’ about my ass.”

He only grinned, watching you copy him, shuffling awkwardly until you were sitting on your knees, feet popped up with the ends of the blades digging into the ice. “When you push back onto your feet, remember to grip the floor like Cass’ always shouts at the Valkyries, okay? Grip it and put all your weight in the middle of your foot, you need to be centred. We’re gonna’ do it together, because if one of us goes first, we’ll be right back on the ice.”

His hand found yours again, squeezing twice for reassurance, and he gave you a nod. With a small countdown, you were bracing yourself, pushing up just like he had instructed, and you found yourself shakily shooting back to your feet, with Azriel right before you. There was a smile on his face, one that was so proud and bright that it lit you up from the inside out. Mauve you’d made a fool of yourself, you’d probably do it a thousand more times before the day was over, but if it made him look at you like that, you weren’t sure you cared. 

“Told you, you’re a natural.”

“You just have too much faith in me.”

“I have just the right amount of faith in you. Now, try another step, and this time, don’t press so hard, you only need a tiny bit of pressure to move on the ice.” That tone in his voice that told you he was suppressing laughter was only barely hidden by his teaching voice coming through. Strong and stern and powerful, and you couldn't help but follow his instructions when he sounded so confident in them. 

Pushing off again, you skated forward a little, the momentum of your own body pushing Azriel forward as he anticipated your force this time, letting you move the both of you. One step after another, gaining force and confidence each time, until you’d gained enough stability in your motions for him to start skating as well. A disbelieving laugh fell from you as you watched your feet go. “I believe you owe me a story.”

“The lakes and ponds in the mountains, they freeze over entirely in the coldest months too. When we were kids, me, Cassian and Rhys would skate in our boots on them, we didn’t have fancy ice skates until after Rhys became High Lord. Sometimes, after our snowball fights, we go skating on the lake up near the cabin.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, like ice skating hadn't been an important part of bonding with his brothers. Taking in his stance, you could see it now, the squared back shoulders, arms a little flared out, wings tucked tight into his back, knees bent. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Thank you for sharing it with me, then.”

“It wasn’t my idea to come skating.”

“Yeah, but you could have refused, kept it to yourself and the other two. Kept it personal. I wouldn't have held it against you if you said you didn’t want to come, but you did.” Your fingers squeezed his, his hands gripping back in response. “So, thank you for coming with me, today, on this whole trip, thanks for sharing it with me.”

He used your joined hands to tip your chin back up, to look at him instead of your movement. This time, you were totally stable. “Everything. You know that. I’d share everything with you, if you wanted it.”

“Az..” His smile was smaller now, dimmed and vulnerable, and you pushed a little closer to him on your skates, slowing to a stop until you could lean into him, to wrap your arms around his waist instead, his own sealing around your body as he returned a fierce hug. Your eyes closed, face buried in the scarf sitting over his chest, his wings shuttering at his back, brushing the backs of your hands as he leaned down to bury his face into the woollen hat atop your head. 

There was screaming of excited children all around, the music of a band somewhere off in the park, the excited chatter of friends and couples and the screeches of metal on ice all around you, but it was nothing. Nothing could interrupt you when he held you like this, one hand sitting firm on the small of your back as the other stroked gently up and down your spine again, a move that took you right back to that place in bed, when you’d been shut off from the whole world; warm and peaceful and isolated, together. 

Looking up, your nose nudged his chin, and he pulled back a second later, face utterly sincere now as he stared down at you. “Maybe we can try skating like the others now, side by side?”

“You think you’re ready for that? I don’t know… you’re just a newbie..” Like a bucket of ice water, all those sounds came crashing back down in a crescendo, the moment passing away, bubble popping and wall to the world cracking in two as he chuckled at the shocked look on your face, laughter tumbling from him as you smacked his arm and then wobbled from the impact. Cold air wrapped around you as you backed away from him, now smiling too, and took up a place at his side. He offered you his arm, and once your own was linked through it, he held you tightly to his body.

He did most of the work as you went, conversation falling easily between you both once again as he took control of navigating and moving, all you had to do was focus on moving your feet in time with his own. Your confidence built, as did your speed as you lapped the rink again and again, until the motion had become second nature, laughing and joking with Azriel as he recounted all of the stories of when he’d learned to skate, hundreds of years ago with Cassian and Rhys. 

You were passed Vivianne and Kallias, who were much more steady than the two of you, twirling and racing and skating one another, wrapped up in a world of their own, but stopping long enough to celebrate with you for finally making it out onto the lake to join them. As you watched them go, a sigh fell from your lips, and it was almost startling to remember that this wasn’t your normal life, that you would go home soon, be surrounded by paperwork and training and stress once again, because you’d gotten so used to it so quickly that you’d almost forgotten anything else had existed. 

In four small days, you’d gotten used to the idea of it just being you and Azriel, exploring and joking and letting the world slip away entirely. 

“You’re thinkin’ real hard over there.”

Azriel nudged you a little, snapping you from your thoughts, and you only shrugged. “Just thinking that maybe I’m ready to skate solo, now. Pretty sure I got this down.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yeah. I’m basically a pro, now.” 

“Alright.” With that, he released your arm, disentangling himself from you in one swift movement, and beginning to skate ahead of you, leaving you behind on the ice. 

“Wha- Azriel!” He spun with ease, skating backwards, hands now tucked into his pockets as his brows rose, a smirk on his face, head tipping to the side a little. “I meant skate next to me, not leave me!”

“Relax, I’m just skating over here a little, so you can skate to me.” He paused now far from the wall, a clearer patch of ice away from the others where you wouldn't bump into anyone else or become a danger should you fall, a threat that was steadily becoming a larger concern. He waved his hands, before cupping them over his mouth to yell at you to hurry up, and your nerves fired anxiously. 

The distance he’d skated away from you seemed so much further now, like it was growing every time you looked back at it instead of him, and so before it could grow anymore, you pushed off. 

It was much harder skating without Azriel there beside you, your panicked gaze flitting to him as he watched on. He dropped down, bending his knees a little and flaring his arms slightly at the elbows, and you copied, your balance growing steadier as your knees unlocked. One foot after the other, until you were gliding steadily towards him, the gap between you both getting smaller, as both your grin and his only grew bigger.

It wasn’t until he was only a couple of metres away that you both seemed to realise he’d always been in charge of stopping, slowing you with him. Before you could even yell out to him, your body was colliding with his, his hands barely having freed themselves from his pockets in time for his arms to wrap around your waist, his wings flaring out a little to add support as the two of you spun dizzyingly across the ice, his body working to compensate for the impact as you froze up. 

A squeal left your lips, a few more turns that left your stomach twisting in nauseous knots, before you were slowing, his boot scraping powder up in the ice as he skidded you both to a stop, and you all but slumped down into him, waiting. Waiting to fall, waiting to slip, waiting for anything. But nothing came.

“Holy shit, we’re still upright!” Your cheer was loud, and you jumped back from him enough to be able to look up at your friend, his sparkling expression almost as bright as yours. 

“You did so good.” He freed a hand from your waist, pushing back the rim of your hat and brushing strands of hair over your shoulders, before it was settling over your cheek. The wetness from your fall had dried off over the time you’d been skating, now warm and comforting as it lay on your cheek, thumb smoothing over your skin slowly. 

“Up until that end part, anyway.”

“That was the best part, you were smiling and having fun and you weren’t worrying about it.”

“I knew you’d catch me.” He didn’t laugh, or joke, only nodded, licking over his lower lip as his gaze held yours. 

“Always. Just like I know you’ll always catch me.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, the beam on your face melting away as something more serious took over. Your hands sat at his sides, clenching a little in the fabric of his coat as your breath hitched, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up. He licked his lip again, his lashes fluttering a little as he looked back up to you, thumb stilling where it smoothed over your cheek. 

You were all but buzzing with the anticipation as the gap between you both got smaller with every second passing, breath shared between you both, noses brushing. His other hand pulled you closer, until you were pressed up to him, a feeling you were growing more and more familiar with by the hour. 

Your eyes closed, leaning up that last little distance until you could all but taste him, his soft pants on your lips like a phantom kiss, waiting for more. 

He shifted, lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead instead, lingering long enough that his touch felt like it was branded into your skin. He pulled back, barely a fraction, before pressing another kiss there too, like he just had to get one more in, before pulling back. You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved, gaze flickering around the packed rink much like his own were, observing all the people casting you glances and whizzing past. 

He dipped, a final kiss pressed to your temple, a final sipe of his thumb over your cheekbone as you gripped at his sides, before he was freeing your face, taking one of your hands in his own and lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re shaking. I think we’ve had enough ice today, let's go warm up.”

He nodded his head towards a hot drinks stand on the opposite side of the rink, before tugging on your connected hands, leading you away towards one of the exits. Your stomach was still flipping, your heart still racing, and yet as you neared the exit, letting him lead you out of the rink carefully, he tossed a smile to you over his shoulder, and everything seemed just fine all over again. 

He guided you to the benches, sitting you down and hobbling away to collect your shoes as you united your boots. He returned right as you were flexing some life back into your feet, wiggling your toes in hopes it would revive them from where they seemed to have frozen over. As the excitement and adrenaline wore off, you realised you really were shaking, the fabric down the backs of your legs and your back still damp from your fall, a chill setting in, and your hands trembled as you redid the laces on your boots. 

Vivianne and Kal joined you moments later, neither seeming at all affected by the cold, only enhanced by it. Viv’s cheeks were glowing a radiant pink, all the way across the tip of her nose, much like Kallias’. His blue eyes only seemed deeper in contrast to all the ice, both seeming utterly elated with the way the day was going, and as soon as Az had voiced his intentions to get a hot drink, Viv had begun gushing about the hot chocolate stall, taking his arm and ushering him quickly across the park as soon as his shoes were back on. 

You and Kallias were left behind, Azriel tossing you a worried glance over his shoulder as he was dragged away, and you only chuckled at him, scooping up all of the skates and returning them to where they belonged. Kal offered you an arm, the two of you ambling along quietly in tow of your partners-in-crime, quietly observing the park and discussing that around you. 

He told you all about an ice-skating date he had taken Vivianne on so many decades ago, on a private lake during the warmer months, before it had started to rain, the ice getting slippery, and the two of them had stumbled and fallen all the way back to the bank in fits of giggles. His eyes lit up whenever he talked about his wife, like he was overcome by nothing but bliss, and your mind slipped away to Azriel as he talked. 

He was already looking at you when your eyes met, standing under the awning of the hot chocolate stand as Vivianne chatted his ear off excitedly, only looking away when his name was called at the stand and he was receiving two tall paper cups of steaming sweetness. His face melted with relief as you got close enough that Vivianne noticed, distracted by her husband and making her way over to him to present him with a hot drink that he received by placing a kiss to her lips. 

“You looked like you were having a blast.” Your words were whispered as you approached, his lips flicking up at the sides. “What were you talking about that had that look on your face?”

“Oh, y’know, this and that.” His answer was vague, dipping down to keep the conversation hush as his words washed over the shell of your ear, and you shuddered. He offered both cups to you, effectively changing the topic when he said; “I got two, do you want dark chocolate and mint, or salted caramel?”

Both options sounded great, your mouth watering, and you glanced between the two. You cupped his hand, raising one up to smell, before repeating it on the other. “I don’t know, they both smell amazing. Which one do you want?”

“I want whichever one you don’t want.” Azriel had always made such comments, he would choose two cupcakes and let you pick, two wines and let you pick, he would offer you seats at the table first or training gloves, anything with a choice. This was the first time you’d ever let them sink in, the first time he’d said them with a tenderness that wasn’t guarded at friendship, and you let yourself hear something more. His gaze only confirmed it when you looked up at him, nervous and sweet and cautious, and you slipped your palm over the back of his as he held the drinks. “How about you start with caramel, and I’ll start with mint, and we can share?”

“I like the sound of that.”

He pressed the cup into your hands, and you raised it, blowing the steam away before taking a sip, and turning to face your friends, Viv’s eyes twinkled a little as she glanced from Azriel to you, and your curiosity about their conversation came back in full force. “How about a walk around the park before we go back?” 

Her mate glanced up at the sky, pale brows furrowing as he took in the clouds on the horizon, and you were sure he could all but feel the energy of the place zapping through his veins. “I don’t know if we have time for the whole park, there’s a storm rolling in.”

“Storm?” Your heart sank, and Kal gave an apologetic smile as he nodded, bringing his attention back to the both of you.

“We get a lot of surprise snow storms this time of year. They can come and go before you can even blink, but it’s how long they stick around for that's the problem. It’ll probably start snowing within the hour, I expect this place will be empty within two.” 

You glanced around, taking in the scenic views of the frosty park, evergreen trees dotted with snow already from the previous days, a silent warning of more to come now that you thought about it, shoulders sinking a little. “Will it be bad right from the start, or could we walk until it starts falling?”

“As long as the cold isn’t bothering you, we can walk until it starts snowing. The temperatures will drop quickly, though.”

You realised all three were staring at you the weak link in this equation. Kallias and Vivianne thrived on the cold, they didn't seem to even notice it, and Azriel came from the Steppes, you were sure this was positively warm for him in comparison to the way you’d heard and seen Winters look up there. You were the one who wasn’t used to it, but you weren’t willing to miss out just because of a chill. 

“If it gets too cold, I’ll tell you, but I’m fine right now. I’d really love to walk.”

“Then walk, we shall.” As the pair ahead of you turned, beginning to lead the way across the frozen field, icy grass crunched under your feet as you and Azriel followed them. He switched his drink to his other hand, a drink-warmed palm slipping against your own as he took your hand, one wing unfurling to settle around your body like an extra barrier against the frigid winds, and you lead into him. 

“Your wing is gonna’ get cold.”

“Shut up and let me be a gentleman.” His scoff made you laugh, wing flexing a little tighter around your body, curling you into him as you took a sip of your drink. 

The two of you wandered along, caught in conversation with Kallias and Vivianne, who seemed to know exactly where they were going. Following pathways that were now hidden by fresh snowfall and ice, you tried to burn every little thing into your memory, to remember forever. Velaris was made up of winding cobblestone streets and packed buildings and lights, bridges back and forth across branches of the Sidra with the barren mountains in the distance, reflecting all the twinkling of the stars. 

Here was different; evergreen trees on snowy hills crawled up to high they almost met the sun in the sky, or the dark grey clouds that were now rolling in across the horizon. Wide streets with carriages going up and down, houses built with a slated roof, a tall chimney pumping out smoke, red-chested robins flittering around and chirping from their nests hidden in the branches.

You never wanted to forget a moment.

You swapped drinks with Azriel, and swapped again, and again, until you were carrying empty crumpled cups and your cheeks were once again flushed with colour. He pinched at the tip of your nose, grinning at the reddening flesh covering your face from the weather, and it wasn’t until you were within sight of the drinks hut again that the first snow fell, landing on your cheek and melting away, and when Azriel noticed it, he smiled.

Kallias was right, the temperature had dropped rapidly and the snowfall had increased bit by bit, coming down in flurries now that were almost blinding. You’d spent almost twenty minutes watching them through the balcony doors of your bedroom, before finally getting cold enough in your damp clothes to switch them out for a fresh warm set. Now, your eyes were drifting out of the windows again, darkness beginning to settle in as the sun set, the chatter of the dinner table fading around you as you stared out at the snow. 

Azriel was sitting by your side, his hand slipping under the edge of the table to squeeze your knee, jolting you back to the conversation being had. Kallias was talking about the snowstorm procedures, Vivianne nodding along as an advisor took notes on all of the plans, and your focus moved to the man beside you. His brows rose a little, a silent question on his face as he swallowed down the bite of his food, a frown taking over at your spacing out. 

“I’m all good, jus’ watching the snow, is all.”

Placing your hand over his on your kneecap, you squeezed once, before letting him take it back, a small smile flickering at his lips as you tried to gather your thoughts on what you’d missed, picking your knife and fork back up and continuing to eat. 

“You’ll have more snow by tomorrow morning that you’ll know what to do with.”

It took you a second to realise that the attention had moved to you, Viv serving herself a second portion of the buttered carrots and parsnips as she stared at you, a smile forming on your lips. “I love the snow, but it never falls this heavy in Velaris. Velaris is more frost and ice with it being right on the water, we only get a little snow. This is… beautiful.”

“Well, you can spend the whole of tomorrow appreciating it, because I’m not so sure we’ll be getting out of here much before early evening, if at all.” Kal sighed, rubbing his forehead like a weary old-timer, and your brows rose. “At first light, we’ll assess the situation, find out where was most affected and start moving the snow there first. We have to clear the pathways for carriages and the houses that got snowed in, before working up to here. We don’t typically prioritise the palace in snowfall, so I hope you’ll forgive us for a day inside.”

“Are you kidding? We get it, and there’s a ton to do around here. I have some books, some gifts to get ready to send home, loads.” You waved a hand brushing it off entirely and not missing the subtle dip of his shoulders in relief, lips flicking up at the sides. “We’re gonna’ be just fine, right, Az?”

“Absolutely.” 

Ever the man of few words, you tried to bite back a smile, having done all you could to reassure them, and somehow Azriel’s one word had made them relax more than all of yours. Finishing the final bites on your plate, you crossed your knife and fork, placing them down gently, and your gaze drifted back to the windows outside. 

The colours of the sunset were bouncing beautifully off of the blanket of white snow, pretty pastels covering the sky and the land, only broken up by the trees protruding from the earth, leaving a cracked effect along the horizon. If Feyre were here, she’d doubtless decide she wanted to paint this. In fact, you were sure that if she ever visited, she’d spend months here, holed up in a small studio to paint and paint until her fingers were numb, from all the beauty it provided. 

“Do you want to go out and watch the snow for a moment?” Your head snapped to Vivianne, watching as she finished her dinner, and excitement bubbled up within you. 

“I would love that!”

“Good.” She stood, brushing off her skirts lightly and smirking as her attention fell on your friend. “Azriel, you don’t mind if I borrow your girl for a little, right? I have some things to discuss with her anyway, you can stay with Kal.”

Your cheeks flushed, shooting her a glare for her wording that she took no mind of, not even looking at you as pink splotched over Azriel’s cheeks too, but he only showed bashful joy as his head dipped in a nod. “I suppose you can have her for a little while, I expect her back, though.”

“No promises!” Viv all but sang, looping her arm through yours, and Kallias’ chuckle was echoing behind you as she tugged you away from the table and towards the large windows. The metal of the handle was like ice under your fingertips, and the second you stepped out into it, you were shaking, freezing winds sweeping over your body and wrapping you up like you’d been plunged into ice water.

But, as you glanced out across the landscape, miles of rolling hills now blanketed in an optical illusion of smoothing snow, your breath was stolen from your lungs, clouding before your face before disappearing away. 

“It’s something else, isn’t it?”

“It’s like a whole other world.” Your words were whispered, scared to shatter anything at all, drinking up every sight before you before finally landing on watching the sun slowly sink towards the horizon. You were still shaking somewhat, fingers tingling in protest to the cold, but the longer you remained, the more your body grew used to the new temperature as your friend sighed beside you, watching it too. 

“No matter how long I live here with Kal, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to these views.” A wistful smile sat on her face as she thought of her husband; your heart clenching happily for the woman you proudly called your friend. “He grew up running through these halls, and sometimes with the way he looks out at the world, I think even he isn’t used to it.”

“I cannot tell you how happy I am to be here with you for your celebrations. To see all of this, to be part of all of it. I’ll never forget this trip, it’s been once in a lifetime.”

Her shoulders rolled back, pride visibly swelling within her at the compliments. You know how much this kingdom, how much her people and their love mattered to her, and it was obvious how much this season meant to her. 

She had already told you before that you’d be part of preparing a large feast in a few days, as well as telling you all the things you would have been doing had the snow not set in. “It has been our pleasure to have you here.”

“It’s been our pleasure to come. Not just for trade relations of political alliances, but I truly consider you a friend, Viv, and I hope you know you’ll always have a friend in me, too.” She reached out, swallowing thickly and offering a tender squeeze to your hand in thanks as words temporarily escaped her. A comfortable silence fell between you both, watching the snowflakes full in a rush from the sky, melting as they touched your skin or gathering in your hair and along your shoulders, decorating you like you were part of the court, the landscape.

“One of my favourite parts about Christmas, is that it also falls around the time me and Kal officially accepted our bond, did you know that?” She cast a glance at you, your attention solely on here as she prepared to retell you a story. It was one personal and dear to her heart, some people never share their mating bond stories, and you felt like she was offering you a little piece of her soul as she did. “It’ll perhaps sound a little… dated, our story sexist, even, but it’s ours and I love it. I was trying so hard to be the perfect housewife, back then.”

“You? A housewife? Never.” A bold smirk formed on her lips, pink beginning to flush over her face. You were sure the same cold-kissed look was ten times more prominent on your own, but the cold had stopped feeling quite so harsh as you were embraced by her story. 

“It’s true, I did all the things the sexist form schools tell you to do, all the things that make you desirable and ladylike.” She trailed off into a terrible posh accent for the end of her sentence, the two of you giggling a little, and you leaned on the railing, watching the sun sink lower and lower over the horizon, darkness becoming the setting for her story. “I hated it all at the time, of course, but then I met Kal. He had my heart from the moment he said ‘hello’, and I wanted to do everything I could to be perfect. When that mating bond had clicked, I wanted to make him dinner, and prove how good of a wife I could be. I cleaned my whole apartment until it sparkled, and I got all dressed up and tried to cook dinner. It all went wrong of course.”

“Naturally.”

“Naturally.” She sighed, eyes rolling at her younger self as she relived the memories, you could practically see them flicking through her eyes as she dazed out at the scenery. “I’d gone nose-blind by that point, but came over and his eyes actually watered at the smell of cleaning products everywhere. I got so distracted trying to air out the apartment that the food was overdone and burned, and when I tried to fix it, I got sauce down my dress. I was so upset, I was sure I’d ruined everything.”

“That wasn’t the case, though.” If anything, you’d bet it made them even stronger, the smile on her face only confirmed it. 

“No, it wasn’t.” She dragged a finger idly through a pile of snow on the railing, sweeping it away. “I was a mess, I thought I was going to cry. Kal pulled me into his lap and told me he doesn’t want me to be anything but myself. Obviously, the domestic housewife bits weren’t my strong suit, but he promised to ‘get chefs and cooks and cleaners, anything your heart desires, if you’ll just smile for me again’. I told him if I couldn't cook a simple meal then I was going to be mad at myself. So, I did make a simple meal. A sandwich, to be exact. Our first meal as mates was cheese and ham sandwiches. I’ve gotten better at cooking since then, but, it still makes me smile.”

Silence lingered, and you reached out, sliding up a little closer until you could nudge your elbow against hers, drawing her attention away from where the sun had now disappeared completely, and to you instead. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“It only felt fair.” She was teasing, as though she knew more than you, but she’d confessed something about herself, and if the glitter in her eyes was anything to go by as she glanced over,  she was expecting you to offer something deep in return. An exchange of deep thoughts, deep parts of the heart. “So, what’s the deal with you and the hot shadowsinger?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, you have no idea what I mean? Pssh, please. I have a pair of eyes in my head, and even if I was as blind as a mole, I’d be able to see the way you look at each other.” She scoffed at the way you hummed, head tipping back pointedly to watch as purple faded to black in the sky, stars just beginning to twinkle over your head, reminding you of home. “You two call yourselves best friends, but best friends don’t look at each other like that. You’re seriously telling me nothing has ever happened between you two?”

“Like what?”

“Like a drunken kiss or jealousy over a date or a fight that led to some steamy tension?” You cut her a withering glare, and she all but cackled with laughter in response. “Oh, come on, fill me in on all the juicy details!”

“There are no juicy details! Nothing has ever..” You shrugged, glancing back over your shoulder to him through the glass. Ice had formed on the panes at some point while your backs had been turned, showing just how cold it had gotten as night came in quickly, offering only a blur of the two men on the other side. “I mean, I never had time to think of him that way, I never let myself. There’s always been a certain click between us, y’know, but with everything that’s happened, I don’t know when feelings formed but I never acknowledged them. Things are changing a little now, but we’re just on vacation, I don’t know if it means anything when we go home.”

“And if it did mean something?” She was pressing at a question you were barely ready to answer yourself, and you let out a sigh, staring back up at the stars for strength as you open yourself up to a part you’d been hiding from. 

“If it means something when we went home, I think I’d really like that. I just don’t know what's going to happen while we’re here, I don’t want to force anything, but I don’t want to lose this chance.” She was quiet beside you, quiet for so long that you turned to look at her, only to find her nibbling lightly on her lower lip, deep in thought. “You look like you’re thinking, like you’re plotting something. Are you about to try and scheme in my love life?”

“Well, of course.”

“Don’t. I just want to see what happens. Trust me, you can’t rush Azriel, otherwise, he’ll get spooked, and it’ll be another two hundred years before I get a chance.” Your eyes rolled, fondly despite the truth in your words and she laughed softly. 

“Not even a little bit of meddling? Something small, tiny? What if-” 

“Viv..” You groaned, cheeks flushing with heat, feeling like a teenager being set up by her friends, and she laughed loudly as your face fell into your hands to hide your embarrassment. Somehow, you still managed to live the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach at it all, though. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll let it go, for now.” A blessed relief. “Tell me about why you love the snow so much, instead.”

That you could do. “I guess it just reminds me of home, but also, it doesn’t?” She looked at you quizzically, and you knew it didn’t make much sense, but it was the best you could do to explain it. “I’m always so busy back home that even when it does a little snow, I barely get to appreciate it. I’m training or working or helping in the library, and the only place that gets scenes like this is up in the Steppes, but as I’m sure you can imagine, if I’m visiting the mountains, I’m not doing much relaxing. Definitely not getting a chance to just stand and watch the snow. I just want to enjoy the little things.”

“The little things are the best in life.” 

You liked her quiet agreement, feeling seen rather than judged, and you both turned to watch the stars that were getting brighter and brighter by the moment. The skies were dark now, night had set in entirely, and your breath was fogging in the air with every puff you let out, floating away and disappearing before twinkling stars, a different view to the one you got at home, but beautiful nonetheless.

The peace was only broken by the gentle knocking on the inside of the door, freshly fallen snow sweeping in an arch the door was pushed open, and Kallias poked his head out. A small frown was on his lips as he observed you, before flicking to Viv. 

“Perhaps you ladies should come back inside, before you catch a chill.” He gave a less-than-subtle nod in your direction, and Vivianne jumped, lips parting in shock as her head snapped to you. As though time had eclipsed you both, in a sudden shock she glanced around, taking in the night and the snow and the ice. “You look like you’re minutes away from becoming an icicle, you don’t even have a coat on.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” That bit of reassurance did nothing for either of them, and Vivianne was quick to usher you back into the dining room, sealing the doors up tightly behind the group of you as your arms rubbed lightly over your arms, skin tingling at the sudden rush of heat from inside. “Viv, seriously, I’m all good, stop fretting.”

Azriel was by your side a second later, a matching look of concern on his face, and he lifted a hand. Brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek, that frown only deepened, and he smoothed a hand over your hair, brushing away snowflakes and ice. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I’m surprised your lips haven’t turned blue!”

His hands took over at your arms, getting rid of any lingering snow that hasn’t yet meted, attempting to rub some warmth back into your skin. Your shudder was for a whole new reason now, as he pulled you close to his body, wings rustling and flexing as he prepared to wrap them around you. You stopped him only by turning from him, his touch never leaving you as he followed, keeping so close he was almost pressed up beside you as you twisted to meet the equally worried looks of your hosts, Vivianne’s with a little extra guilt. “I was watching the snow, I’m fine!”

Silence bounced around the room louder than a falling building.

Azriel wrapped one arm around you now, tucking you into his side and draping a wing around your body, and you didn’t know whether his overprotectiveness was endearing or ridiculous right now. “Seriously, I am totally fine. I’ll warm up, I’ll go and get all cosy in bed with the fire on and I’ll be nice and warm again in no time.”

Azriel made a hum of agreement by your side, swiping his hand down from your shoulder and along your arm, pulling you even closer to himself. That sound made Viv settle with half a smirk on her face, gaze flickering between you both. “Yeah, I bet.”

Kallias only let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “That’s a good idea, go and get warmed up. The storm is still getting worse, it’s only going to get colder, so make sure you stay warm tonight, or you’ll catch a chill from being out there.” Viv pressed her lips together, an unspoken apology in her eyes, a shake of your head to dismiss it, and a smile to confirm it.

You bid the pair of them goodnight, glancing up and over Azriel’s shoulder as he led you away, only to receive an exaggerated wink from Vivianne that made you scoff. At the sound, Az turned to look at you, a still worried look on his face, and you let your head rest lightly on his shoulder, soaking up the body heat pouring off of him and already warming you through.

“Az, stop it. You’re getting all up in your head.”

“I can’t help it, I’m worried.”

“Well, stop it.” He didn’t, reaching out to brush at your cheeks and the tip of your nose again, finding them still cold as the heat hadn't yet returned entirely yet. You shook him off, fixing him with a hard glare, one that he met just as stubbornly as you walked along. “Azriel, you need to understand that I have fought right there at your side on the battlefield before, I helped you run a whole court for fifty years, and I can kick your ass in training. I can handle a little cold. I’m a fighter. You don’t have to worry.”

Something between a smirk and a smile set on his lips as he looked down at you under his arm. “Alright, tough stuff, I get it. But you need to understand, that I will never stop worrying about you. You’re mine to worry about.”

You had no idea how to respond to that, eyes wide as you stared at him, emotion clogging your throat as you tried to respond, and he only held your gaze firmly, not backing down from his statement. You still hadn't found words by the time you had reached your bedroom, the fire already on as you walked in, the room so warm it felt like Summer Court on a perfectly sunny day, and only when the door was locked up tight did Azriel let you go, only to check the balcony and windows before sealing the curtains up against the cold. 

“You should go and take a hot bath, just to be sure.”

“Az, I’ll-” 

“Please. Just- For my sanity, okay?” Once again, you were rendered speechless, but he cleared his throat, obviously not as willing to let this comment linger as he did the other one. “Look, we’re only halfway into our trip. If you got sick now, it would ruin the rest of it, and you don’t want that. You were out there for over an hour, with no coat on, shaking like a leaf when you came back in and you felt like ice. Please, just go take a quick bath.”

“Okay.” 

He nodded, wings drooping in relief from a tensely taut position on his shoulders, and you wandered away towards the bathroom, mind spinning wildly with all the confessions and revelations today was bringing on, particularly this evening. So much to unpack from such a small amount of time, and you were practically on auto-pilot as you prepared the bath. 

You filled it with salts and oils to smell good, fetching your pyjamas and fastening your hair away to keep it dry, before sinking into the water. Every cell on your body screamed out in bliss at the all-surrounding heat, loosening from being locked up tight. On the other side of the door, you could hear Azriel tinkering about, wandering up and down before finally seeming to settle as everything went quiet. 

Everything except for your mind. 

All the thoughts regarding you and Azriel, this trip, the potential relationship and potential heartbreak lingering in the balance. It was too much. Instead, you tried to think about your friends. Only four days away, and you missed them all dearly. You were used to seeing them every day, seeing Cassian to hear about his silly dreams and to hear Rhys pass sarcastic comments on them, to hear Feyre talk about her paintings or Elain about her garden, or Nesta about her latest book. You never got so much time alone with Azriel nowadays with your family having expanded so large, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss them at the same time. 

There was a stack of cards sitting on your dresser waiting to be written. That was your new motivation to pull yourself from the hot water before you fell asleep, race through your skincare and into your pyjamas, and rejuvenated with new enthusiasm as you reentered the bedroom. Tugging your hair from its bun as you went, you teased your fingers through it, catching sight of Azriel, already spread out and cosy under the covers, book in his hand and one arm propped behind his head, glancing over the edge of it with a smile as you walked through the room. 

“Comfy there, Az?”

He only hummed, making a show of stretching out happily on your bed, leaving barely any room for you as he lounged in the centre of it. He let the book fall to his chest as he watched you approach the dresser, searching through everything until you could find a pen, pulling the stack of cards over to yourself. “What are you doing?”

“Writing the cards! I was thinking about them in the bath. We need to ship them soon, so they get home before we do.”

He didn’t reply straight away, but from the corner of your eye, you watched him close his book, setting it down neatly on his thigh. “Didn’t Kallias say the storm was still building, and to stay warm?” You murmured a response. “Come here and stay warm.”

“I will, soon.”

“That can wait until tomorrow. Come on” He patted the bed beside himself, peeling back the edges of the covers invitingly. “I thought you wanted me to cuddle you more?”

You did want that, and you’d voiced as much, you just never expected any part of that conversation to manifest itself outside of that one morning bubble. The pen hovered over the paper, lingering only a second before you gave up, a smile on your lips as you put it down and turned to face him. He smiled back, victorious, already knowing he’d won.

Flicking lights off as you went, you finally settled in beside him, and he immediately reached for one of your hands, rubbing his thumbs into your palm soothingly, checking all the way up to your fingertips, before repeating the action on the other side, seemingly content with it as he nodded. 

You picked up one of his hands too, having to clutch his larger one in both of yours, repeating the massage techniques he’d done as you held your hand in his lap. He watched you curiously, as your thumbs dug slow circles into the scarred flesh, working the tension out slowly, as his fingertips twitched, all the way up and along each one, until you were finished with one hand. 

“What was that for?” His voice croaked a little, his hand flexing in and out of a loose fist as he stared at it. You knew how shy he was of his hands, and while he’d never hidden them from you, that same look of awe still struck up on his face occasionally in regards to them.

“I don’t know, you did it first, I was returning the favour.” At that, he let out a heavy laugh, falling back into the pillows with the movement, and when he rolled his head to look at you, it was with such open affection you felt like you were winded. 

“I was checking that your hands were warm again all the way to the fingertips, I wasn’t doing… whatever you just did.”

“Oh.” That made a lot more sense, your gaze dropping from his own for a second. He shuffled a second, offering you his other hand cautiously, and your gaze snapped back up. No longer was he laughing or showing any amusement, just shyness.

“I liked it. Will you do this hand, too?”

You accepted it, sitting his hand down, face up in your lap and beginning your slow work at massaging the tension from his hand, working your way slowly over bumps of hard flesh and callouses, his fingers slowly relaxing out more and more as you went. Up and down each digit, rubbing right to the pad, and soft sighs escaped his lips every so often, as you reached pressure points that made him melt into the mattress, head tipped back and eyes closed. 

You took more time, working so slowly it felt like hours passed by, taking the other hand again and giving it more attention. For a few moments, you were sure he had actually fallen asleep as you worked, until his head rolled to the side, face the picture of utter bliss as his eye cracked open lazily to stare at you while you worked. 

By the time you were done, he was like a puddle, sunken amongst the plush bedding. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” His voice was raspy, and you inhaled sharply at the unexpected impact of his voice and the domestic look of him, only able to nod in response. After a moment longer of lingering in the hazy pause, he picked his book back up, snuggling down further into the bed. “C’mere.”

He lifted an arm, beckoning you in, and as you curled up beside him, he hauled your body up so close your head was resting on his chest rather than the pillow, your legs tangling together as your front pressed up to his side. His arm fell around your body, fingertips playing with the sleeve of your shirt absentmindedly, and he waved his book slightly. A little more wiggling to find true comfort, and then you were sinking into him, sure that this true happiness, your eyes closing as the steady lull of his heart echoed in your ear from where it rested beneath your cheek. 

‘Do you want me to read to you?” The hand from your sleeve moved up, fingers tangling in your hair, a breathy sound escaping before you could stop it as his fingertips pressed softly into your scalp, soothing away any tension as your whole body all but went numb with bliss. You could barely even nod, fingers flexing where your hand sat over his stomach, hoping the press he got was enough. He seemed to get it, as he opened the page back up, a delicate whisper was your only confirmation he had heard you.

#azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x you #acotar/you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[lucysarah-c]

Do you think Levi would be with someone who was canonically "innocent" or "weak"?

Would he have a relationship with an ordinary civilian?

Considering how much shitty hard shit he's been through, it seems like he wouldn't be with a partner who has a good life, who hasn't been through hard shit and who is pure.

Would he get cold and distant from a partner who is weak, insecure, unable to get up from a fall?

I felt the need to ask this question because I read a Hc about Levi being uncomfortable with weakness and that he can't be with someone who is weak and innocent

Especially in the manga, he said something about hating the weak.

Or if he saw the weaknesses of the average partner, would he accept his flaws or would he grow cold and distant from him?

Ahh I don't know, maybe his behavior towards his partner depends on the dynamics of their relationship. For example if he has been friends with S/o since childhood. Even if S/o was a weak person, maybe he wouldn't distance himself from her. But I don't know if he would like her romantically.

If you are the last person I will ask this question to, I can ask it on another blog. I didn't know which blog to ask.

Hi, sweetie! How are you? Mmh… Excuse me if I am wrong in assuming this after reading your ask, but since you mentioned that this is something that had been on your mind lately after you read a hc and you felt the need to ask me… I do not know who or what made you feel like you're weak, first of all, and even if you felt that way, therefore you're not worthy of Levi's love.

I have a particular… you may call it a "personal" issue with the word "weak". What do you consider weak? What is weakness in a person to even begin? "That person is weak" compared to what? Or to whom? Under which circumstances? Is what people consider "weakness" truly a weakness? Because everything may look dark if you don't consider the source of light.

I'll give my reasons later, but to make a long story short, no, I don't think Levi has any personal issue with weakness.

To start the argument, you, or maybe what they have made you believe, is "weakness" as you mentioned "innocence, ordinary civilian, good life, pure," all related to "weakness." Which leads me to ask you, what do you see as weak in all those characteristics? Because I see none. Let me explain. You see, people consider "ordinary civilians" weak, but if ordinary civilians didn't rise from their beds every single morning and do what they do for society, soldiers like Levi wouldn't have what to eat, what to wear, streets to walk, beds to sleep, or houses to hide from the cruel winter. To set a clear example, after Europe was DEVASTATED by the war, who rebuilt it? Who grabbed the helmets from the dead soldiers that were their men, their sons, their husbands, and made strainers to cook meals for the kids? Who picked up each and every single piece of debris so the cities could be rebuilt? Who worked the lands that once were trenches for kids to have what to eat? I see no weakness there. Weakness is in a human when they need to hold a weapon to feel powerful.

About the words "innocence, good life, pure"… why would Levi consider a person that didn't have his tough life someone not worthy of his love? There's nothing wrong and there's no fault in not suffering; romanticizing a harsh and poor life is something very dangerous. To set a clear example that Levi wishes that those he loves have a peaceful life, is him watching that mother with her child before the expedition to retake Wall Maria. He himself thought of his mother and the peaceful normal life he wished she had, he wished he could have given her.

Levi himself is an extremely sensitive, open-hearted, and altruistic person. He craves a normal life; his dream was to have a tea shop and live an "innocent, peaceful, pure" life. This reminds me of the movie "Sociedad de la Nieve," when Roberto Canessa is told "you have the best legs of the team, you have to walk for the rest of us," to do what others can't. THIS, for me, is the reason Levi joined the scouts. Because he KNOWS he can do something that others can't, and he will carry that weight because he knows he can carry it. Levi isn't in the military because he thinks he's "strong" or the power of being "strong," because he wishes to protect those who can't do the job he can, because he wants to be the person who helps others as he wasn't helped as an innocent, pure, weak little kid.

Levi values life, and he would never look down on someone because their life is perhaps more peaceful than his. On the contrary, I think he fights so everyone can have the peaceful life he couldn't have. Maybe, the "character" that others may consider "too innocent, pure, weak" is the character that has the tranquility and safety in their daily life that allows Levi to find refuge in their peacefulness to recover his energy to keep going. Maybe he enjoys spending time with them, admiring the little moments of life, to understand for what he is fighting.

Maybe this partner is going through a hard moment they can't see through, and perhaps that struggle isn't as big as what Levi's has been through. But only a very selfish person would measure someone's pain with their own; feelings have no proportions, we just feel them. Diminishing them won't do any good. It's easy to judge a cat for not being as strong as a dog, while nobody is calling a dog weak because they can't climb a tree. Life is too beautiful and complex to see it through a single lens. No, I do not believe Levi would do such a thing.

Hope this helps… if you ever feel like you need someone to vent, feel free. Stay safe.

Lots of love!

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[meguvmii]

I still want you.

Chapter 3

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

Falling in love with the Satoru Gojou wasn’t an easy task. You truly love him but will this come to an end?

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating gojo.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message.

Previous chapter ⤏ Next chapter

You woke up to the feeling of the bed empty. Satoru was no where to be seen. A sigh escaped your lips as you thought about yesterday's events, mentally slapping yourself as you got up from bed. You checked your phone and found a message from Toji.

Toji: 'Goodmorning, i hope you slept well :)'

Y/n: 'Goodmorning to you as well and I did thank you!'

You hadn't realized you were smiling when you woke up to a simple text message. There were no morning messages left by Satoru. Today was the last day of staying at the hotel after that you had plans to drop off your son with your mother because you hated seeing your mother live alone in a huge house without anyone. Sumire loved his grandma so much, sometimes you thought he loved her more than you. You quickly realized that you had a night gown on, not being to recall anything that happened yesterday you assumed nothing special happened. You still vividly remember how devastated your mother was when she found out her husband had cheated. She barely even ate and always stayed at bed. Despite you being 16 at the time you had to go out and work a few hours and maintain your mother. You truly did hate seeing her like that. Always staying with her all the time.

There was even one time where she was so depressed she never once left her room. You had to physically help her up and shower her. Getting cheated on after more than 16 years of marriage had affected your mother horribly. Your mother had talked about the cheating with you. Your father had fallen out of love and always left your mother confused and doleful. He cheated on her with one of his co workers at work. Still remembering the days where your parents would fight and send you to go get something at the store while they tried and resolved their arguments.

You slowly started to realize that maybe what happened to your mother was happening to you. Satoru had always left you confused. Before you could reach any conclusions you felt a pair of tiny hands hug your stomach.

"Goodmorning my love, did you sleep well?" You asked while seeing Sumire's cute little face light up.

"Mommy where's daddy?" His blue eyes sparkled at the mention of his father. Sumire always said he wanted to be like Satoru when he grew up. A well known business man and have a beautiful wife.

"He's busy honey. How about we go out just me and you?" You said ruffling his beautiful hair. His face was immediately joyful, smiling he nodded his head before hugging you tighter than before. You were glad that you had him. Sumire is the source of your greatest joy and happiness. He is your pride and joy, and the reason you strive to be a better person every day. His innocence and curiosity never fail to put a smile on your face, and you're so grateful for him. 

"Go fetch some clothes so I can change you." Sumire ran toward his room with a smile on his face. Sighing, you let Satoru know you were leaving soon. You would've preferred that he was with you to spend time with your son.

The only thing stopping you from leaving Satoru was the desire for Sumire to grow up and have a family of his own. In spite of everything, you'll always be with Satoru because he's the father of your son. Even if you hate each other, you'll still fight for this marriage no matter what. You felt your hands cold for some reason, you didn't know, but you felt tears running down your cheeks and you began to cry. Fuck this marriage was slowly killing you. Your heart was breaking in pieces remembering that Satoru isn't even here. He said he was going to be with you all day but look at him, he's gone.

As your hand reached over your chest, you looked down. There was nothing you hated more than this feeling. Sobbing quietly, you waited for Sumire to finish changing. Your marriage was slowly crumbling, even though you tried your best to prevent it from ending, you simply couldn't. This hurt you so much that you despised this feeling. You did love Satoru, so much that your willing to do anything for this marriage to work out. You loved Satoru more than he loved you that's for sure. You missed when you both used to sneak out to see eachother because you couldn't even go one day without seeing one another, or when it used to snow and you made snow angels with Satoru for the first time. That was the first time you fell in love with him.

It's always been your thing, dumb snow angels. Whenever you said you've never seen snow before, he would try and get an excuse to skip class and sneak you out to play with the snow. His eyes glistened when he first saw you smiling at him, or the way his heart felt like it was healing when he was with you. Whatever he was going through would always disappear when he was with you. For him, you were all he had to keep on living.

“You're so beautiful" was the words he said that day and you would give anything to go back to that day. His gentle and kind demeanor drew you in, and soon found yourself falling in love with him. You would spend hours talking and laughing together, and you felt like you could tell him anything. He was the kind of person that made you want to be a better person, and you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

As you both recall, that was the first time you confessed your feelings to one another. On that day, he stole your first kiss. Satoru was and is everything to you. Did he care the same for you as you did for him? The two of you stood at the beach at night staring at eachother as you talked about how you felt about each other. He had written a small note to you with everything he liked about you on it. Like the way you would giggle to most of his cheesy pick-up lines or how you would hold his hand whenever you didn't feel safe because he was your comfort person.

Now you had nobody.

You were alone and most of your friends were too busy to stay over and talk about life. You felt like you were slowly dying. You just wanted to feel loved once again, the feeling of having someone with you whenever your feeling down. Now you have no one. There's no one you can call or text, except Toji of course. Quickly wiping your tears you decided to get up the bed but to your demise you immediately fell down onto the floor. Your legs felt like jello, not feeling an ounce of strength. You felt useless but with a loud thud you once again tried getting up before seeing Sumire in the corner of your eyes running towards you. He had a face of concern plastered all over his expression.

"Mommy?" Sumire kneeled with you. Seeing your sons concerned face you began to feel more tears fall. You didn't want your son to see you like this anymore. "Im okay sweetie" you said slowly standing up your muscles felt sore.

You had absolutely zero energy to do anything but you already promise Sumire you were going out with him. You felt pain in your chest, trying your best to breath you started panicking. Not knowing what to do you felt your chest feeling heavier by the second. "S-Sumire get my phone quick," you said in between painful groans. We're you about to pass out? Shaking intensely you tried to recompose your breath. Your son began to look for your phone. Finding it on top of the furniture he quickly grabbed it before giving it to you. Trying your best to take a deep breath, you felt yourself slowly loosing conscious.

"Siri, call Toji Zen'in!" you cried out before feeling yourself loose conscious.

Last thing you remember was hearing your son cry out.

You could feel someone carrying you. You knew that this marriage was killing you. You've never felt this way before. Despite everything Satoru was so bad for your health. You couldn't believe it but you passed out with the amount of crying and feeling your heart slowly break. The whole time you were unconscious you just remembered all the amazing memories you made with Satoru. Remembering how his face lit up when he saw you were okay and a newborn baby was right by your side, or how he was so worried about you when you were having complications with birth. Smiling he was the one who decided to name Sumire.

After all he knew every single detail about you. Remembering when Sumire first took his baby steps or when he first said mommy which made you so happy. When Satoru decided to propose randomly one day when you were eating Chinese takeout. Forcing you to take the left fortune cookie, opening it and seeing the shocked expression you had plastered on your face, or how you were so happy when you both finally moved in and took care of Sumire together.

Your wedding was absolutely beautiful, small but beautiful. You both agreed to have a small marriage at the beach with only friends and family members. Seeing Sumire crawl to you and him on the altar with the wedding rings strapped on his tiny hand. Seeing your mom play with Sumire the entire wedding day, or your most favorite memory was seeing Satoru cry when he first saw you with the wedding dress on. He had told you that you were the most beautiful woman he's ever layed eyes on. The way he tried convincing you he wasn't crying at the altar despite the tears running down his cheek and his glossy eyes.

Doing all the wedding activities and seeing how everyone was in awe when they saw you and Satoru participate at the games. Not to mention how your mother cried when she saw you and Gojo dancing the slow dance together. The way his eyes didn't leave you at all the entire day he was glued onto you basically. It was the most amazing day ever the only day where you felt relieved and happy to be married to someone you loved deeply.

"Y/n" you felt a pair of muscular arms carrying you trying his best to wake you up. Slowly you adjusted your eyes to the lighting, seeing Sumire in the corner hiding between Toji's legs. Toji had a face of concern, he gently put you down on the bed, placing a hand on your forehead to see if you had a fever of sort. Seeing his face you cried, getting up and hugging his waist. Toji was surprised with the sudden actions.

He hesitated before placing one of his muscular arms on your back hugging you as well. You could see that the hotel room was wide open and the room was messy. Your phone was on the floor with a few miscalls from Toji. "Sumire called me, is everything okay?" Toji said before separating himself from you, placing both of his arms on your shoulders.  "Yeah im sorry for calling you," you said trying your best to try and get up. You could see that Toji deeply cared for you if he came running here not even closing the door.

"Here.” he gave you some clothes folding them and leaving them next to the bed. "Go change so we can go get you something to eat, okay?" He said with his green eyes staring at you. You nodded before grabbing the clothes and walking towards the restroom to change.

"As you for buddy, you're coming with us" Toji said before picking Sumire up and carrying him.

"Im Sumire," he said smiling and pursing his lips together watching Toji smile and ruffle his hair.

"Nice to meet you Sumire, im Toji a friend of your moms.” He replied walking towards you as he seen you step out of the restroom.

You could tell you were tired. You quickly brushed your hair before coming out, grabbing a bit of concealer to hide your red and puffy under eyes. Toji closed the door behind you, talking to Sumire about how he met you and how you're a great and kind person.

"Everyone says im like my mommy." He said in a proud and cute little voice. Toji had put Sumire down and was now walking with him but sumire didn't let go of Toji's hand. Surprisingly the cafe that Toji had chosen was close to the hotel. Toji had opened his car door allowing you to go first, Sumire had sat in the back. "Honey we're not gonna tell your dad about this okay?" Seeing Sumire nod in response you sighed in relief. Satoru wont know about anything that happened today because it's not his business anymore. Sumire was quick to fall asleep in the car.

"Im sorry about that I don't know what happened, all of a sudden I was feeling so much chest pains I guess I passed out." Seeing Toji look at you quickly before looking back at the road. He smiled reassuring you that it was no problem.

"Don't worry about it okay?" He said grinning before pulling up to the cafe. It was a small and cute cafe that read "Mimi's cafe" there was cat drawings everywhere. Smiling you started laughing at Toji's selection of cafes. "Is this a cat cafe?" You asked trying your best to hold back a laugh.

"They say it's good for you." He replied rolling his eyes before parking his expensive BMW. Getting out you slowly woke up Sumire before carrying him. Walking into the cafe the waiter immediately mistook you as Toji's wife. "I'll have an espresso cafe" the waiter nodded before looking at you "and for the wife?" She asked writing down in her little paper pad. You could see that the waiter was checking Toji out, with a little giggle you shook your head. "Not the wife, but I'll take a vanilla coffee and for my son he'll get the hot chocolate.” The waiter slightly blushed before apologizing and leaving quickly. You looked at Toji before looking back at the waiter.

"She's cute." You said smiling, seeing tojis face you laughed even more. Seeing him slightly gag saying that she wasn't his type.

“Not my type, I’m more into independent women.” While waiting for the drinks Sumire kept on asking Toji so many questions you started to feel bad for him.

“How’s megumi?” watching toji take out his phone he began to show you pictures of him.

“Well he turned 5 last month,” smiling you saw all the baby pictures he had of him. You could tell Toji loved megumi.

“Listen if you ever need help with anything, mom wise just text me.” Smiling you ate a bit of Sumire’s chocolate donut.

“I think we should introduce megumi to Sumire, like a play date or something” Toji just chuckled at the fact that you mentioned a play date.

“If it means I get to talk to you more, sure.” Smiling he turned off his phone. Sumire went straight to asking more questions.

“Mr Toji do you know my daddy?” He asked

“Not that much but he’s a well known man around here why?” Toji asked staring at you and then back at your son.

“People say that my daddy is super smart!” you could see the that the corner of Sumire’s mouth was filled with chocolate.

Sighing you wiped his mouth with a piece of napkin, “be more careful.” You scolded.

Seeing how Sumire would quickly come up with another questions while finishing his first one made you smile. Toji suddenly stopped talking when you saw him staring at you.

Tilting your head a bit you were confused, "Are you okay?" You asked before turning around to see what was making Toji so speechless.

For you it felt like time had slowed down when you saw your white haired husband enter the cafe, at first you thought he was walking towards you but as soon as you followed his eyes your heart broke. Satoru hadn't noticed you were here. Walking towards the waiter you were teasing Toji about he went up to her and planted a kiss on her lips. You felt your heart slowly felt like burning. You could've sworn that being shot in the stomach right now would've felt like nothing compared to what you were witnessing now. She immediately kissed Satoru back, smiling as he hugged her by the waist. You started breathing rapidly.

“No this can’t be happening.”

When you saw him kiss her, your eyes already welled with tears, but seeing him so happy with her broke you even further. You quickly got up, grabbing Sumire's hand, before exchanging glances with Toji and leaving the cafe walking towards his car. She was giggling joyously and Satoru kissed her every now and then as she tried to leave to attend other customers. His eyes sparkled with her, just as they did when he was with you in high school. Seeing her ask for a break, she walked with Satoru to the back. "No no no" you gasped, Toji immediately hugged you and you felt yourself start to have another anxiety attack. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe, feeling an uneasy chest pain, you broke down in tears.

Looking up to him he could tell you couldn't breathe. You were panicking so much you fell down to the ground. Toji tried his best to stop you from falling. "I.. I can't breath Toji" his eyes widened at the mention of that. “Shit,” He was also panicking as well, not knowing what to do he hugged you. Feeling his warm chest on yours, you felt the panic go away. He deepened the hug grabbing your waist and pulling you in deeper. Separating from him you gasped, “Toji…”you said tears still filling your eyes. Despite the hug you noticed it had helped you calm down. “Y/n,”

You shook your head before pushing him off you, “Just take me home.” You felt like your whole world was crushing down on you. Toji apologized before entering the car and taking you back to the hotel where you packed up your stuff, leaving Gojo’s suit case. You quickly checked out of your room before leaving the hotel. Toji had agreed to drive you home except that you didn’t have a home anymore. You and Gojo we’re done, you decided to stay at your mothers house. Calling her with tears in your eyes and your voice was shaky.

“Mom… can I stay over at your house for a few weeks?” You could hear the concern lacing through your mothers voice. “Is everything okay?” She asked.

“I’ll explain when I get there.” Sighing you silently sobbed the whole way back.

taglist; @wo-ming-bai @allofffmypeaches

#gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk angst #jjk #cheating #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji jjk #jjk smut

[puppiekit]

To celebrate my Lion au post, here are some notes / hcs:

Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf all have arcs that tackle different themes throughout the arc.

Jayfeathers arc tackles the prophecy-oriented side of things. His character changes the least. I do plan to tweak the way time travel works though (it will be more directly connected to their present - day tribe). Will keep up to date in that regard....

Hollyleafs character is, obviously, altered to an extent. She tackles the code-oriented side of things. She does not murder Ashfur, however..:

Hollyleaf is still driven mad by the truth of her heritage. She is angry at Leafpool first and foremost, viewing her as the root of their problem, as Leafpool was the one to break the code by having kits in the first place. She still confesses the truth at the gathering. She does not run into the tunnels, instead, somewhere more far off.....

After Ashfur is murdered, Lionblaze, wracked with guilt, confesses the crime to his siblings. Hollyleaf, blinded by her code-obsessed rage, later exposes the truth of what happened. Brambleclaw covers for him, similar to how Bramble covered Holly in the books.

Lionblazes character is altered the most (no surprise there). Lionblaze tackles the family-oriented side of things. He is very close to his parents, and you can see most of their drama / conflict through his perspective.

Lionblaze is a character who is simultaneously well-meaning, impulsive, and a bit self-focused. Similar to his grandfather he cares greatly for doing the right thing, even if it means breaking the code (much to Holly's disdain). However, what differs the two is Lionblazes hyper-awareness over his own reputation. Firestar is a cat who will do the right thing, no matter the slack he gets for it, no matter the enemies he makes. But Lionblaze is a cat who needs to be liked.

Due to the nature of his power, Lionblaze becomes increasingly insecure and hyper-aware of the cats around him (he views it as an inherent flaw ; a reason for cats NOT to like him). After his run-in with the Dark forest, he grows paranoid of accidentally harming / killing innocent cats. Frequent nightmares. Battle training sometimes induces panic. Bad habit of bringing home half-shredded prey. He wants to be a good cat, he wants to protect his clan and his family -- but his power only leaves him feeling like a monster. A ticking time bomb. All he's good for is doing the most damage possible, and that's scary to him.

Lions dynamic with Ashfur is expanded upon A LOT MORE. Now, in my au their dynamic is a bit of a mixed bag. They have their bad moments, days where Ashfurs resentment seeps through, but its not all bad. If you know the kind, you know -- The type of adult who will yell at you for a simple mistake, beat you down, but then 10 minutes later praise you and take you out for dinner as a treat. Its complex, it's hard to accept it for the toxicity it truly is, because "They're good sometimes, too". Lionblaze acknowledges that Ashfur was mean, but the attachment is still there. They had their good, genuine moments -- so it's hard to accept the fact that his mentor is a horrible person. Could it be? Could the mentor who told him funny stories about his parents, truly hate them that much? He can remember a time Ashfur peered down at him, smiled and said, "You know, Lionpaw, you're kind of like a son to me." In the moment he felt warm, it felt good. Did Ashfur really care for him that much? Now that same memory sends chills rippling through his fur.

Speaking of, Lionblaze is definitely the most attached of the three. He's incredibly close with Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw. When the truth is revealed, he is easily left the most (emotionally) devastated -- but he is also the first to forgive. He feels hurt, angry, betrayed, but he cannot deny the love he feels for his family, and he cannot deny the love they gave to him. It breaks his heart keeping his distance, seeing the hurt in his mothers eyes while he avoids their presence. He can't keep it up for long. Jayfeather, on the other hand, cant bring himself to forgive as quickly. He is a cat who has difficulty accepting vulnerability - he trusted his family, and that trust was betrayed. (Lion definitely has a bad habit of getting involved in his parents arguments later on lol hes emotionally invested)

The big change: Lionblaze kills Ashfur. You would think he does it out of anger, out of hatred, but no... He does it to keep his family safe. He can't let the secret get out. He can't allow Ashfur the opportunity to harm his littermates, his mother, again. Killing him was the only way, and yet, it leaves him with too much grief and guilt to bare. His entire life he shuddered at the idea of another cat dying at his claws. He was a monster, too strong for his own good, and killing would be nothing more than proof of that. It isn't long before it becomes too much to bare, and he confesses to his littermates. The grief, most of all, is what catches him by surprise. Ashfur was awful, he tried to kill Lionblaze and his littermates! It was wrong to feel this grief, wasn't it? But it isnt long before Lion realizes he wasnt grieving over Ashfur - he was grieving over who he thought Ashfur was; not only his mentor, but a tom who cared for him, despite the short attitude. Not only is his heritage, his upbringing a lie - but so is the very nature of his entire apprenticeship. It is a lot for him to handle.

#wc #warrior cats #warriors #thunderclan #lionblaze #hollyleaf #jayfeather #ashfur #squirrelflight #leafpool #brambleclaw #wc au #warrior cats au #warriors au #wc headcanon #warrior cats headcanons

[zvhw]

My funny valentine.

momo x f!reader

Summary: Momo starts to drift off from your love weeks ago, but you both still went on a valentines date. But, unfortunately, she became your funny valentine instead.

tw: Momo doesn't like you, blood is mentioned.

genre: angst

a/n; a little something before I post the misana fic bc that has been taking me a bit too long. Hope u guys enjoy my first fic !

It was Valentine's Day at midnight. The place was illuminated by the bright moonlight. There were food trucks parked all over the area, lively music playing, happy yells coming from everyone, and fun or rigged games to compete in.

You and Momo were having a carnival date on Valentine's day since you both had been ridiculously busy for the past few months.

Holding Momo's cold hand while walking through the loud crowds, accidentally hitting them while you both were at it.

When you both finally made it to the game, you grinned and looked at Momo, who had been completely uninterested since you two had arrived at the carnival and was staring down at her phone. You brushed it off as a minor inconvenience and held her icy hand tighter, signaling her to look up, at least.

"C'mon Momo, y'know the time we spend together is important." You said while grinning a little trying to make both of you and Momo's cloud positive.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Uhm, what's this?" Momo said with a monotonous voice, finally looking up on what's In front of her.

"Really, You don't remember anymore?" You exclaimed with a slight tease in your tone.

Even while you appear enthusiastic, you were actually devastated over the realization that Momo couldn't even recall how the two of you met in the first place. You both have loved basketball since high school, but you just take pleasure in watching it. However, Momo adored basketball and was essentially a member of the school's jock. Ever since high school and basketball brought you two together, you two had been in love.

But you've already noticed that Momo has begun to slip away from your affection and place her attention elsewhere. When you became aware of this, it hurt. Your heart seemed to be pumping more vigorously than usual, and you may have felt as though it were being violently squeezed.

Your heart still beats for Momo, even if her love was dead to you.

"What? It's just a basketball game." Momo looked at you with a questioning look.

"W-well, I mean—" you stammered under her crushing gaze. Her gold necklace encircled her neck flawlessly. her lips were luscious and naturally pink, and the way her jet-black hair fell, a literal museum piece.

But, the temperature had dropped even more, making the chilly wind kiss your skin and face. The loud noises that had been all around you both gradually subside. The time slowed down, and everything that was not Momo started to blur out.

"Yn. C'mon, let's go somewhere else." Momo said nonchalantly, not waiting for your response, she was already leading you to a place.

snapping out from your daze you had finally processed what was happening and followed her.

A thought of the sunrise had just quickly entered your thoughts as the two of you were walking. Every time you were with Momo, you disliked the sunrise. Since she was rarely present in your relationship, you didn't want the time to pass whenever you were together. resulting in loneliness within your lonely body

Glancing at Momo, you've noticed that she'll occasionally check her clock. It wasn't like she needed to attend something—it was her day off, so why was she so tensed?

Momo gazed at you as you gruffly laughed, unsure of whether you were gradually losing your mind or not. But as time goes on, the noisy carnival noises slowly fade away, and the air grows colder.

"Momo.. What are your thoughts on the sunrise?" You questioned and swung your and Momo's hands together, looking intently at her.

"I suppose it's okay. I truly don't care." Momo uttered. Your lips were quivering since it was so chilly that a cloud was coming out of your mouth. Sadly, There was no indication of warmth between you, and her icy touch was doing nothing to help either.

Why?

She looked at her clock once again, truly hurting you.

'Don't look at the clock, let's enjoy this.'

Those were the words that lodged themselves sharply in the back of your throat. It was terribly unpleasant and tough to escape from your mouth.

Finally reaching your point, you stopped walking and let go of her hand. You didn't mind that your lips were chapped and cold, or that your hands were numb. Nothing can stop you if you can still talk.

"Are you playing with me, Momo?" you stammered under the cold air.

When she remained silent and just stood there with her back facing you, confused and unable to respond. So, you made the decision to continue, "Fuck, Momo! I'm so fucking tired. You don't seem to understand." You exclaimed with your hands raising.

Momo gave a long sigh and turned to face you. Her eyes were lifeless, stale, and dull. She had a deep frown in place of the smile she always used to wear when facing you. Deeply frowning at your direction.

Those eyes seem so honest.

"Look, I'm just really tired today and—"

"god, you are a hilarious valentine" You grinned dryly while kicking a pebble across the gravel floor and swinging your arm in fury.

"Fuck, Fine! Since you want the real truth, I don't fucking love you anymore!" Momo paused, then continued, "I fell out of love... Months before already."

She saw you looking down at the ground as she cast a quick glance your way. "It's not your fault, yn," she said, heaving another heavy sigh, "I simply just fell out of love, and got the impression that our love will not reciprocate once again." Momo stated as she approached you and took both of your hands in hers to console your pitiful heart.

After what felt like hours, you finally looked up to her eyes in an attempt to detect any warmth in her dark blazing gaze. And there was, but it was the type of warmth you didn't like. She was offering you warmth, but it was tinged with regret, worry, and a suggestion of goodbye.

The frown on Momo's face was swiftly replaced by a bittersweet grin as you looked down at her lips once more. It was an unpleasant sight.

Her lips formed a thin line and she looked down in regret, getting to smell her vanilla-scented hair.

"I—I must leave. It's been wonderful, yn." Momo spoke cautiously, releasing your warm hands and leaving you in the cold. You couldn't breathe, and the air made you feel even more alone. Momo turns away from you without giving you a final glance.

After a short while, your knees tumble to the gravel floor, scratching your knees as warm tears slowly leak from your eyes and turn your eyes red.

Momo has been in your mind ever since she stole your heart, and you gave it to her. You wanted her to hold you and embrace you. However, If she was serious—

Everyday would be valentine.

But she instead became your funny valentine.

#momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #hirai momo #twice imagine #twice angst