#fic: in normalcy's good name

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ - discussion of postpartum depression, lactation kink.

Orion’s father inserted himself into your life with an authority that, quite frankly, has shocked you.

You expected him to be a dead beat. An absentee. You never really expected to find him in the first place, let alone almost run straight into him on the street.

It was almost like you could feel him on the sidewalk before you saw him. Your body knew, still carried the memories, the imprint of him lingering on your skin, inside you. Orion had his DNA in his veins, and now you had Orion’s in yours.

Shared pieces, twisted together in an imbalanced double helix-

Exposing you for all your transgressions, your failures, your misery.

It’s a special kind of shame, to look your baby’s father in the face and tell him you’re not a good mother to his child. That you’re failing Orion. That you don’t know if you can do it.

The truth is motherhood is not natural or beautiful, like everyone says it is, and it doesn’t come easy, like it seems to do for most. You don’t even feel like you’re bonded to your son, and it’s like you’re a stranger to him. More failure.

They pile advice on top of you in heaps, your mother, your aunts, the friends that have stuck around, sleep when the baby sleeps, let him cry it out, don’t let him cry it out, put him down, pick him up, don’t feed at night, don’t miss a feeding-

All the while, no one shows up. Not truly. They’re here, and there, but your previous fierce independent streak has done you no favors, and no one seems to notice you’re barely holding your head above water. They want to see the baby, hold the baby, cuddle the baby. No one wants to help you wash your milk crusted sheets or clothes, no one wants to pick up your groceries or do your dishes. They want to bring a roast for your fridge, and then they want Orion.

And it’s easy to fake getting by. Struggling but smiling. Motherhood is such a joy. It’s so wonderful. Being a single mom is tough, but worth it. It’s…

It’s so hard.

You don’t have a schedule, a life, a sense of normalcy. Instead of sleeping when Ry does, you cry. You don’t feel like yourself, you don’t know how to do this, you don’t know how you’re even going to make it to the next day sometimes.

And no one really seems to notice you, until Simon shows up.

Simon, who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve tried to assure him you’re fine. Simon, for all intents and purposes, has put a foot down and refused to budge. Simon, who no matter how hard you try to tell him you’re okay, has shouldered his way into your life without a single complaint about the sudden fatherhood thrust upon him.

He’s a stranger, at the end of it all, a man you shared a single night with, a man you know almost nothing about.

Even though that night has always felt like so much more, an impossible connection built in the dark between indecipherable words and whispers.

And now this stranger has planted on himself on the ground in front of you, like a tether to reality. A land line to your sanity. A hand to hold…

A person who sees you.

“I’m right here,” he promised, “I’m going to take care of you.”

He wanted in, and you stopped coming up with reasons or excuses to fend him off. You bent and bent and bent under the pressure of being a mother until you broke-

And he was there.

Someone is calling your name. There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder, and then smoothing over your forehead, fingertips lingering on the apple of your cheek. You blink fuzzily, slowly realizing you must have fallen asleep on the couch. “C’mon mama, let’s get you to bed.” You peer over his shoulder at the kitchen, barely registering how clean it is, the lack of dirty dishes, the empty trash can, the wiped down cabinets and countertops.

“Sorry… I fell asleep. I should’ve-“

“It’s alright, wanted to let you get some rest.” His arms, massive and corded with muscle, slide under your knees and back, and you study his tattoos as intently as you can, for being half asleep. “‘m gonna pick you up.”

“Okay.” You sigh, and his chest vibrates with a low chuckle. It feels safe, you feel nearly relaxed, no fight left in you, all resistance and denial leeched from your bones. “Ry?”

“Fed two hours ago with what you had in the fridge. Still asleep now.” Warmth ghosts atop your head, and you snuggle farther into his chest, unable to help yourself.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours.” You blink, and then, like his words have summoned full body awareness- you wince.

Fuck.

“What is it?” He’s immediately tense, slowly pushing open your bedroom door.

“I’m… sore.” You grimace, trying to keep your chest away from him as he lowers you into bed. “They’re… he usually eats… sooner. They get… too full.” Your face burns, humiliated and awkward. Nothing like telling your very attractive baby daddy that you’re full too of milk. His head cocks.

“Is there a way to fix that?” He’s sitting at your hip, hand casually braced on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles overtop the sheet.

“I could pump but, it really hurts.” Your voice cracks on the admission. You can’t imagine anything you want to do less in this moment, especially with him here. “A warm washcloth usually helps but…”

“I’ll get one.” He tips forward at the waist, and presses a kiss right to your forehead. “Stay put.” You lean back against the pillows, and close your eyes. You hear him the bathroom, tap running, door opening and closing, and then the bed dips. “Can I help you with that?” He points at your t shirt, and you nod. Lifting it over your own head sounds uncomfortable, and you don’t even flinch when his fingers brush your stomach as he peels it up and over.

There’s a moment, a quiet one, where you just stare at each other. His eyebrows crease, dark brown eyes turning soft and sweet, flicking down to your lips and then back up. It’s frighteningly intimate, being so vulnerable, rubbed raw by motherhood and then comforted by the man who gave it to you, and when you look into his eyes, you can feel it all, everything you felt that night, the connection, the desire to know more, feel more, push past everything and dig until your strike true, until you can touch his heart.

Maybe it’s the hormones. The baby. The fact that he’s here, holding you steady, true to his promise.

You loop a forearm over the back of his neck, and tug, jolting him forward, close enough that your noses touch, and his lips graze yours before he pulls back, cradling your face with his free hand. “Want somethin’ mama?”

“Yes.” You whisper. Your breasts ache, but the pain is second to the way you drown in his dark gaze.

“Need you to ask for it, sweet girl.”

“I- I want… to kiss you.” It feels like taking a plunge, ripping a band aid off, and he only smiles at you in return, before leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s a memory. An explosion. A rush of the last time, the first time, the only time. Ocean water, spring air, woodsmoke under your fingertips. Fragments of a few favorite things, sealed in a kiss. A dizzying ride that sucks you dry, spills your blood into his, twists the two of together until you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let go.

You almost, almost whine when he pulls away.

“Washcloth is cold.” He murmurs, making his way back to the bathroom and restarting the process. His muscles flex under his t shirt as he turns the sink on and off, wringing the cloth out. You unhook a bra strap, and when he returns to the seat at your hip, you gulp.

“T-thanks.” You reach, but don’t tug it into your grasp. Instead, the side of your arm bumps against the swollen firmness of your breast, and you hiss.

“I’ve got you. Let me help.” He says softly, peeling the fabric away until you’re exposed, darkened nipples straining in the dim light of your bedroom. Fingertips trace barely there touch across your skin, and he whispers reverently. “You feed our baby with these, mama.”

“They hurt.” Your voice trembles, and he nods sympathetically.

“I know.” He presses the cloth to your skin, brow furrowed with concentration. His eyes flick up to yours, and then back down, thumb gently rubbing a semi circle under the curve of your breast. “Feel okay?” His voice is a rasp, and you nod.

“Y-yeah… um-“ you trail off, half wishing you could disappear into this bed. “I need a little bit of pressure, to help… express.” It’s the least sexiest word in the English language, you think. Express.

He palms you, gently, and then squeezes with easy pressure. The sound you make is a half moan, half gasp of pain, and he soothes you. “I know honey, I know. I’m sorry.” You tip your head back, waiting, hoping to feel the slow pulse of relief, the slow give of an ache subsiding. His thumb traces your nipple and then rolls over it, still kneading and pressing with his other fingers and palm, hot cloth starting to turn cool.

And then-

You feel it. Your body catches up to your brain, finally leaking, warmth spilling over his hand, down the front of your bra and belly. “Oh my god.” You moan, and he huffs, still rubbing your nipple in a soothing pattern, gaze locked on your chest.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, and then gives you another squeeze. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.” You tip your head to the side, watching him, tracing his nose, his lips, the shape of his eyes. Your baby’s face, through and through. “So good.” It spills over the back of his fingers and he pulls it away, lifting his thumb to his mouth. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, and a noise rumbles in his chest. “Oh-“ you lose your words. Your thoughts. Your focus. You’re frozen, confused and electric like a live wire.

“Y’taste good mama. Sweet.” You gulp. He ducks his head, brushing his lips against yours briefly before dipping lower, cupping as much of you as he can and swirling his tongue across your nipple, lips closing around it and sucking with a satisfied sigh.

“Si- Simon.” It feels good. It feels wrong, that it feels good, but it does. You’re spilling into his mouth, pain and soreness flitting away by the second, strong arms cradling you close to his body. It’s the first time in a long time, that you’ve felt something, anything, close to desire. Arousal has been fleeting since having a baby, but somehow, fire burns between your legs. He pulls away, nipple popping free, and you sag in the bed. With a smirk, his eyes wander to your other side, the unattended one, heavy and full beneath his gaze.

“I’ll get a new cloth.”

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Prologue

Seventeen as Greek Demigods Series

Pairing - Reader x ot13 (Yes, you read that right, I am insane and you are allowed to scream at me)

Word count - 2.7k

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve mainly got crack cause all of them are idiots, and obviously smut because they are thirteen lonely, horny men afterall (aka reverse harem) also throwing in some fluff and angst as well because I gotta let emotions run high for plot sake :)

A/n - Hello hello, this is a new seventeen series I am starting and boy oh boy is it gonna be a wild ride! A special thanks to @okiedokrie @whipped-for-kpop-fics @ourdawnishotterthanourday @multi-kpop-fanfics for all their amazing help and bearing with me through the discussions for this, I’m so grateful to you guys :)

I will have a taglist for this so please comment/ send an ask to be added!

“Over here!”

Wincing, you looked up from the disgusting heap of mud your foot had neatly landed in, ignoring the way your little piglet was ecstatically rolling in the same filth.

The man before you looked equally disturbed as he walked over, pulling out a bottle of water apparently from up his ass because you didn’t remember him holding it a second ago.

Sighing a thank you, you took it, emptying it onto your boots before grabbing your gremlin of a pet from its happy place, resulting in a series of loud, incessant whining.

In all that noise, you heard your shoe savior take your name with a voice that was as pretty as him.

“I’m Jisoo.” He put out his hand. “You can call me Joshua.”

You nodded, unable to shake his hand thanks to the problem trashing in your arms earning Joshua’s amusement.

“And who is this?”

“Natalie.” You muttered as he raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Natalie Porkman.”

Joshua burst out laughing, looking away as he covered up a snort, shoulders shaking. You smiled, truly taking in his beautiful features for the first time. Cute.

“This way.” He pointed at absolutely nothing yet you followed this complete stranger, survival skills be damned. “We’ve got a half mile trek ahead of us but it gets a little confusing from here so I thought I’d come pick you up.”

Cute and kind.

You filed it away under ‘to-learn-more-about-when-I-fiigure-out-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-in-my-life.’

The two of you walked side by side, footfall softly echoing in the lush green forest around. Though silence was all you had been craving after the last few days you’ve had, that did not seem like an option since one, Natalie hadn’t stopped whimpering in fifteen minutes and two, Joshua kept glancing at you like you were some sort of ancient artifact.

Not the good kinds.

“What is it?” You said finally, starting a conversation you didn’t want to have. “Never seen a mess of a human before?”

“Never such an old one.” Well, at least you got ancient right. Joshua quickly corrected himself. “I mean I’ve never heard of a demigod surviving undetected in the mortal world for this long.”

Oh but you got ‘human’ wrong. You forgot. Normalcy was never your defining factor but at least now you knew exactly what kind of freak you were.

Almost.

“I wouldn’t call it surviving, more like ‘barely made it’.”

“But you made it.”

“At the cost of what?” You sighed. “Everything is much more complicated now.”

“Don’t worry.” He stopped at a large boulder at the base of an abnormally large tree in the middle of seemingly nowhere. “We’ll all help you.”

“All?”

He nodded, looking at you over his shoulder. “All.”

Your eyes followed his hand as he placed it in the middle of the rock, and after all that you’ve learnt in the last few days, you’re not sure why you were so shocked when it rolled away at his touch. You expected it to lead you to a dark, suspicious cave but a bright light poured out, making you momentarily lose both your vision and your pet who jumped out of your arms and ran into the illuminance, squealing in delight.

“Welcome to Camp Seventeen.”

Joshua grinned, pointing at the scene before him and your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a large opening in the middle of a forest that looked very different from the one you were just trudging through. There were hills on one side, a large lake shimmering far away, fire torches lit everywhere, little cottages scattered here and there, strange symbols topping them all off. Looking at everything curiously, you walked down the cobbled path, only just noticing the two men who were standing at the end of it, both incredibly beautiful. The blonde one was playing with Natalie and the redhead was staring at you with his arms crossed, expression smug.

“Would you look at that, the prodigal babygirl is here at last.”

You frowned, taking an almost immediate dislike despite his pretty, pretty face.

“Jeonghan, play nice.” Joshua muttered, walking over to him.

“Don't patronise me Aphrodite's son, she was supposed to be here at 4-”

“It’s 4:10.”

“-yesterday.” He turned back to you. “You’re a day and 10 minutes late.”

“Well you’re not the one who’s relocating your whole life.” You spat back at him. “I had things to take care of - my dorms, my bills-”

“So much that you missed the meeting with your lawyer.”

“I did ask to reschedule. It’s not my fault he’s an unsympathetic prick.”

“Careful sweetheart.” Jeonghan cocked his head at you. “I’m unforgiving too.”

You stared at him for a whole maddening minute, realizing why his voice seemed so familiar. You had heard him on the phone over the last few days.

“You’re my lawyer.”

“And the best in the city.” Joshua interjected, sensing the rising tension. “Children of Athena tend to be big brained.”

“And hot headed apparently.”

“Natalie says ‘not more than you’.”

All three of you turned to the only other presence there, the man who was carrying your pig, silent as a statue all this while.

“Jun, son of demeter.” Joshua introduced, pulling him ahead. “He’s a natural with anything, well... natural? Mostly plants but he also happens to talk to animals.”

“Domestic ones.” Jun mumbled. “Hansol is better with the wild.”

You greeted him awkwardly, half smiling to be polite and half frowning at the way Natalie was looking up at him with literal heart eyes.

“How did you come across a fledgling?”

“A what now?”

Jun picked your pig up by the arms like a little baby. “She says she’s 10 years old, yet is the size of a toddler. Have you never wondered why your pig never grew?”

“I uh….assumed it was just the kind of breed that didn’t?”

“What an intellectual.” Jeonghan looked at you with faux amazement making you roll your eyes.

Jun, however, still hadn’t met your eye. “Fledglings are creatures of Olympus. Time moves differently there so they don’t really grow like the others in the human world. In that sense, technically, she’s still only a few months old-”

“So you’re telling me this thing, which has lived with me for 10 odd years, is….magical?”

Jun shook his head as Joshua spoke up, clarifying.

“Not magical, that’s a whole different branch of powers and abilities. Your pig is just….not a part of the human world.”

“You betrayer.” You narrowed your eyes at what you thought was your loyal companion. “We were friends. How could I not know?”

Natalie whined sadly in response earning a smile from Jun and of course, yet another snarky comment from Jeonghan. “I don’t speak pig and even I know she said you’re not very bright.”

“Understanding your native language is not particularly intelligent, you swine.” You glared at him, receiving a smirk in response.

“Ten minutes in camp and you’ve already made Jun’s ears red and picked a fight with Han.” You turned to see three men walk up to you, the one in the middle with an amused look and a powerful aura. “You’re gonna fit in quite well Newbie.”

“Seungcheol, son of Zeus and leader of the camp.” Joshua whispered as everyone bowed to him. You imitated them quickly.

“This is Seokmin, Son of Poseidon and Minghao, Son of Ares.” Seungcheol added, pulling out his armor as one of them shot you a cheery smile and the other continued to look at you cynically. “They are our training specialists. Seokmin should help you with your overall fitness and Minghao will train you for combat.”

“C-combat?” You stuttered looking around. “You mean like war?”

“The world of demigods is new to you, don’t try to understand everything in one day.” The Son of Ares sheathed his twin blades behind his back. “Take a few days to adjust to the camp first. You can start training next week.”

You nodded, a little thankful that despite his cold exterior, he seemed to be surprisingly sympathetic of your situation.

“He’s right.” Seokmin chimed. “You should settle here first, not to forget, deal with that lawsuit before you focus on everything else.”

You turned to Jeonghan expecting yet another snarky remark but he looked worried, lost in thought.

When you turned back to Seokmin though, you bit back a scream, your face inches away from a man who appeared soundlessly and seemingly from thin air.

He gave you a cheeky grin with a tilt of the head, “I’m Chan aka Dino, Son of Hermes, Camp cutie, camp hottie and camp leader- ow!”

He rubbed the back of his head vigorously when a small rock hit him with a dull thud. You looked over his shoulder to see Seungcheol aim another one with just a flick of the wrist.

This one Dino skillfully dodged, stepping away from you as Joshua laughed, “Chan is the camp messenger. He’s in charge of all sorts of delivery and transportation.”

“You were the one who picked up my things.” The realisation hit you at last as Dino nodded, pointing at a pile of your stacked bags and trunks beside the entrance.

“Guilty as charged.”

“You were supposed to arrive over an hour ago.” Seokmin narrowed his eyes at the younger man.

“I got held up with some uh distractions.” Chan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his ear. “I didn’t know where to keep her things though, considering you know, she doesn’t have a place yet.”

Seungcheol turned to you to clear your confusion. “Everyone on camp has their own residence but you came on too short a notice so we’re yet to build one of you. We could have housed you in the guest cabin except it was recently damaged in a fight,” He glared at all the boys around him. “So that would not be feasible. Until your own place is not ready you can stay at mine - it is the biggest so you should be comfortable.”

You pursed your lips unsure about his offer. Did you think you would be unsafe in his presence? No absolutely not, the opposite in fact.

You wondered how long you could hold yourself back before unsuspectingly jumping this man and his huge biceps and beefy thighs and manly voice-

“She’s thirsty.”

Taken aback you looked around, searching for the owner of the voice who unnecessarily accurately voiced your thoughts. Instead, you heard the snap of a twig and a low growling sound from the area the forest got more dense. You narrowed your eyes, trying to peer through the overgrown wilderness only to meet a pair of menacing red orbs.

Your adrenaline response barely had the time to kick in before ten, no fifteen, wild hounds ran out of their hiding place towards you, making you scream and hide behind Joshua.

The boys laughed as the dogs circled around you and you gripped onto Joshua’s shoulders terrified.

“Stand back lads.” A silver haired man walked over with a golden haired one beside him, both with a bow and quiver strung over their shoulders. The dogs immediately ran over, aligning themselves in an obedient, straight line behind them.

“Hansol, Son of Artemis and Jihoon, Son of Apollo.” Joshua looked at you over his shoulder. “They are in charge of daytime border patrol. There are all sorts of wild animals out here, hence the hounds, for protection.” As you shuddered, Joshua looked around curiously. “The Son of Hades, is in charge of nighttime patrol. He should be somewhere around here…”

Your eyes widened as the water canteen hanging on Jihoon’s belt flew towards you on its own, making you almost claw Joshua’s arm.

“Wonwoo don’t scare her.” Joshua chastised laughing as you literally see a tall, lean man materialize out of thin air, the canteen in his hand and a smirk on his face. “How long have you been here?”

“The whole time.” He mumbled, handing you the water. “Jihoon said you were thirsty.”

“Not for water.” The blonde man whispered in a way only you could hear, looking entertained at how flushed you were. Did he actually read your mind?

Coming out of Joshua’s shadow, you grabbed the canteen before anyone else noticed, thanking Wonwoo with a hard smile. Tilting your head back you drank up, not noticing how all 10 eyes were intently fixed on you and your throat moving with each gulp. They all took a gulp of their own.

As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, slowly looking around and noticing everyone’s gaze, the ground below began to shake, fazing no one but you.

Jeonghan pulled you out of the way of what seemed like a large mechanical bull charging towards you with an equally large man perched on top of it. A smaller man arrived right behind, riding a….. A leopard???

“You said you would win.” The muscled man slid off the mechanical creature, patting it. “My baby is faster.”

“I said a cheetah would win. My baby is a tiger.”

“It's a leopard.” You corrected, earning everyone's snickers and the not so threatening stare of its owner.

“It’s a big cat with an identity crisis.” Taking your hand in his, placing a soft kiss at the back of it, the muscle man gave you a fanged smile. “I’m Mingyu, Son of Hephaestus.”

The other man raised his hand. “Soonyoung, Son of Dionysis and that-” He turned to yet another one who was running over, looking frazzled.

“Seungkwan, Son of Hera, owner of a peacock that has yet again disappeared.” He bent over, grabbing his waist, panting and out of breath. “I don’t get why she keeps running away.”

“Maybe because you keep calling him a she.” Minghao nonchalantly glanced at his neatly filed nails.

“I can’t-” Seungkwan ran his fingers through his head, annoyed. “It’s confusing okay, who the fuck named him Patricia then?”

Behind you Jeonghan giggled.

“You coagulation of human evil,” Seungkwan threw his shoe, missing the target. “Now she- He won’t respond to any other name!”

The boys roared with laughter as Seungkwan unsuccessfully chased Jeonghan around, hands flailing everywhere.

Seungcheol walked over to you amidst all the mess, shooting you an understanding smile. “Your life has just undergone a major change, I get that it is intimidating but don’t worry. All thirteen of us are here to help you get through this.”

You nodded slowly, looking around at the boys, doing a quick, confirmatory headcount. “So there’s only thirteen of you?”

And why were all of them so gorgeous??

“Yeah, only.” Seungcheol chuckled, “Trust me thirteen is more than enough, I’ve got to run a very tight ship here.”

“I just assumed there would be seventeen people since, you know, Camp Seventeen.”

“The Oracle apparently told Woozi to name us Camp Seventeen.” He shrugged. “Not sure why.”

You hummed, as all of them gradually stopped behaving like toddlers and turned their attention to you.

“Wait,” The realization slowly dawned upon you. Actually, it hit you like a brick. “You’re all men.”

Seungcheol nodded carefully, like he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Am I….Am I the only girl in the camp?”

Soft mutters went around as Seungcheol cleared his throat. “Yes and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but unfortunately, it was not a choice.”

“It’s not common for a girl to be assigned to an all boys camp,” Joshua stepped up. “But I believe since Jeonghan and Wonwoo are working on the lawsuit that landed you here, the authorities of Olympus must have thought it is better for you to be here.”

“But it’s not permanent.” Seungcheol added. “You can choose to change camps after Quest Season if you wish-”

“What is Quest season?”

Jeonghan let out a loud sigh. “You’ve been here for what, ten minutes? Don't overwork your brain. The world of demigods is complex, you’ll learn everything with time.”

“He’s right.” Seokmin leaned against the tree near him. “Why don’t we first move your things to Seungcheol’s cabin? We’ll let you get settled, then Joshua can show you around camp, walk you through the rules and assign a duty-”

“Except.” Soonyoung looked at you from bottom to top, like he was assessing you. “What kind of duty?”

“Exactly.” Mingyu threw his arm around his friend, his expression matching. “Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home, what would you be good for in this camp?”

Minghao hummed, walking up to you, bending to meet your eyelevel. “Well, what can a woman be good for in a camp of thirteen men?”

A/n - next will be a detailed post about each member, their background and powers so it's less confusing for those who aren't so familiar with Greek mythology and the series will start after that so stay tuned!

[ceoofyearning]

I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire. 

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core. 

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment. 

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage. 

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind. 

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now. 

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll. 

You are just too damn tired. 

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold. 

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon. 

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you. 

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below. 

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty. 

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care. 

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through. 

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect. 

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you. 

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets. 

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin. 

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze. 

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.” 

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer. 

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace. 

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours. 

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.” 

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort. 

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality. 

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?” 

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation. 

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.” 

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him. 

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists. 

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments. 

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin. 

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long. 

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels. 

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near. 

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care. 

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time. 

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So,  gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt. 

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own. 

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance. 

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.” 

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all. 

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂

[hyuny-bunny]

pls do needy soft dom hyunjin with lots of praise and kisses 🥹 i need him so bad. preferably a fic / one shot !!

hold me | H. H. |

genre: smut + fluff, idol!hyun x non idol afab reader

a/n: thank you so much for the submission 🥹 i hope this does it justice 🤍

synopsis: sunday mornings with a needy hyun after he's had a bad dream

MDNI (+18) content warning: oral fixation , p in v, afab reader, pet names (angel, baby, good girl, honey), unprotected sex, slight choking, finger sucking, fingering, a touch of angst, some aftercare cuddles <3

Weekends were pretty tame when he wasn't promoting or touring. It was only during these times, was there a sense of normalcy, almost falling into a domestic routine. Saturday's were always dates, whether it was for a dinner date, picnic dates, movie dates, art gala exhibition dates. It didn't matter where you were, as long as you were together, he's taking you out on dates. It was a date regardless of what was going on, even if it was just staying in and the furthest you got to being outside was walking down the street to pick up take out.

Sundays on the other hand, those were the lazy days. Sleeping in past ungodly hours, holding each other, ruffled messy hair, wet kisses, and hands under each others shirts (their both his shirts he'd argue). So it was no surprise when you woke up to see he was still sound asleep, you swept your legs off the bed to tip toe into the bathroom. Luckily when he moved to this place, he won the coin toss to get the master bedroom with a bathroom.

It was only a minute or so of washing up before you could hear him stirring around, calling out your name. Your view from the door way of the bathroom was a sight, he laid posed in bed like something out of a painting.

"Where'd you go? I missed you" he pouted but you couldn't deny how soft and sweet he sounded, honey dripping off his words. His dark hair was a tossed mess, his t-shirt was lifted just a bit, his hand laid across his stomach with his pinky finger just slightly tucked in the waist of his boxers.

"I had to wash up" you crawled onto his bed just barely hovering over his face, "I think you should consider the same."

He huffed a bit before strolling to the bathroom, disappearing for a bit. When he came back he looked refreshed, slightly more lively. Without a word he's crawling back into the bed and pulling you to lay atop of him, he's grabbing you by the waist with one arm and the other hand is reaching up into your hair to pull you down to his lips.

It starts soft and sweet, you can still taste the mint from his toothpaste. His practically situated you to straddle his thigh, your panties are the only thing stoping you from being flush against his thigh. It's when he starts to grip your hair tightly, you let out a soft whimper that gives him enough access to slot his tongue onto yours. The sounds of wet kisses and low whimpers are the only thing you can hear echoing in the room. He lifts his leg just a bit to have you sliding against him higher, you can feel how hard he is through his briefs.

"Need you... need to feel you... i want all of you..." His kisses become sloppier between each sentence. His lips are plumper than usual and bitten red from the way he kisses you. He pulls back to flip you under him, pushing his thigh against your core to feel the wet spot beginning to pool.

"Be an angel, will you?" his hands start to push up under your (his) shirt, his hands tickle your sides sending a shiver down your spine, when his hands cup your boobs, another whimper falls from your mouth.

"That's it baby, let me make you feel good, yeah?" he's leaving wet kisses down your throat until he gets to your collar bone, leaving a litter of hickies in place. Pulling back for a moment, he lifts his own shirt over his head leaving you to take your own off, now you're both down to your underwear. It's only then, when he has a full view of you in all your glory, does he feel like he could just cum from the sight of you.

He's latching his mouth on to your chest and sliding a hand in your panties, letting his fingers swipe away at the wetness covering you. You let a yelp from the sensation, pulling his hair slightly only making him groan into your chest before he's shoving his middle finger in.

"Be a good girl and try to stay quiet. Can't have them hearing your pretty moans, those are for me only."

He's shoving another finger and wrapping a gentle hand around your throat. His fingers are brushing up against the g-spot, leaving your legs a shakey mess, the hand on your throat is squeezing gently to making your head rush for a few before releasing again. You let out another whine louder than the last.

"Hyun, p-please I-I can't-," you're so close to cumming on his hand but not another word gets out. He's shoving his fingers coated in your wetness in your mouth for you to suck clean. His eyes are narrowed in on the way your lips are wrapped so prettily around his fingers. He pulls them in and out of your mouth until he feels you've had a good taste of yourself.

"Such a good girl for me, god I love you. Come on, let's get these panties off, I'll give you what you need."

He stands up to pull his boxers off, his cock springs up slapping against his tummy. He's big but not too big, it's long and with the right amount of girth. He's climbing back on to you before you can think. He lifts your hips, pulling your panties off in one swift motion. He's kneeling on the bed with your hips pulled to his lap, he leans down peppering your thighs in kisses.

"You're mine. All mine. Understood?" A kiss between each punctuation.

"I'm all yours, Hyun. Only yours.. please baby" Your head is still spinning from the orgasm that was ripped from you.

"Please what? Come on baby, I need to hear you say it." The head of his cock is rubbing against your entrance, bumping into your clit making you whine once more.

"Fuck me Hyun, please, need to feel your cock in me please. Make me cum please," the pleas send blood rushing to his cock again.

"I'll make you feel better baby." He slips himself into you with the last word causing you to let out the most pornographic moan he's ever heard. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours. I'm yours, Hyun." His pace begins to pick up. His hands hold your waist, your tits bounce at every thrust and your hands are gripping his forearm. A string of moans and 'i'm yours' fall from your lips. He picks up his pace long forgetting his roommates are home, he couldn't care less. He needs to hear you say you belong to him, he needs the world to hear it.

"You're mine and I'm yours.. ohh fuck baby you feel so good. Cum on my cock, make me yours" he whimpers out.

Head spinning with lust, you catch a glimpse of the fucked out expression painted on his face. The way his chest moves every breath and his muscles enlarged by the way he holds you. You pull him down to your face, his hair is stuck to forehead. He loves the way you push his hair back and kiss him sweetly, a contrast to the way he fucks you right now. Skin slapping, wet squelching, heavy breathing, moans spilling out with no regards to anyone in earshot.

He picks up his pace, you feel the knot forming in your stomach. You try to muffle the moans in the pillow next you but it's not enough. He starts rubbing gentle circles to your clit with his thumb, when he lifts your leg his cock is hitting your g spot from another angle that has you falling apart. You're squeezing his cock so hard he whines out your name. You can feel the warm spurts of cum in you, his lap and cock covered in your own. He pulls out gently and lets your hips down. He rolls off the bed grabbing a warm wet cloth to clean you up. He kisses your forehead and cheeks sweetly, thanking you and showering you with 'i love you's. Once he's cleaned up the both of you, he crawls back into bed beside you, pulling you to his chest and mushing his face into your hair.

"Wanna tell me where all that came from?" You ask. He's quite for a beat.

"I had a dream... a nightmare really... And when I woke up you weren't there. I know it sounds silly but... I just needed to know that you need me as much as I need you..."

You lift your head from his chest to look him in the eyes. There's tears brimming his beautiful eyes.

"It's not silly. And I love you. I need you always. I need you like I need air to breathe." You kiss his lips and then his forehead, letting him have his turn to rest his head on your chest.

"Come on, honey. Let's have a shower" you try to lift his head from your chest.

"Just... please just hold me like this for a little while longer"

"I'll hold you for as long as you need... and then some." You brush your fingers through his hair until his heart beat calms, all you can hear are his quiet snores.

[deansapplepie]

Can’t promise ya that Sweetheart

Daryl x f!Reader | Established relationship | pos savior war | Dad Daryl | little fluff

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating (not Daryl, of course), memory loss, Negan, a little bit of violence, mentions of death, killing threat, a little part of blood, pregnancy, mentions of birth, mentions of torturing, mentions of cancer. (If I forgot anything tell me) Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: This is a small story based on this dream that I had in the end of the last year. Finally decided to write something about it.

It didn’t go exactly what I had planned because of the dream, but here it is. Also, I wanted it to be a small drabble, but I turned it into a big one-shot.

Another thing is… Daryl and Reader have a 6 year old son, but in no moment I wrote his name in the history. I received a critique about reader’s son in The Spitting Image, so I’m still deciding if I’ll continue with DJ in my Dad Daryl fics, or if it will be only for The Spitting Image and I’m coming up with another name in my other fics. Just to make it clear, I have no intention in changing DJ’s name in The Spitting Image.

When the Greenes found you, the world had already ended. In one of Otis’ hunting leaves he encountered you, all bloody, your hair a mess of dried blood and dirty. At first he thought you were dead, but then you let a small cry and he checked your vital signs confirming you were indeed alive. That day he didn’t go back to the farm with good meat, he took you in his arms and arrived at the house urging for help.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[dangermousie]

I am sorry, this is not even subtle, this is 100% the moment OTP meets after a time jump in so many kdramas - just look at Ju Won's face omg when he hears DS' name.

And the little matter of fact way DS throws out in convo that his father has nothing to do with him and the way JW drinks it in? He will always need reassurance on that score; or at least for a long time.

And the meal, such a contrast to how he didn't fit in, in the beginning or the formal meals with his father. And he is willing to share utensils and try new things and just - he was wound up so tight for so long, just in a different way than DS, and now he's slowly being unwound and relaxing into something much more laid back and normal. He might still be particular but it feels much less stressed now. (But also, the gang being willing to accommodate his quirks no questions asked; love it.)

I am sorry but once again, not subtle.

The very last scene is lovely in every particular - JW now looks for lost people the way DS used to - it makes me think of this quote from 2ha:

But then there is this very very last scene in the drama and I love it so because it's practicalities as caring and the return of some sort of banter, acceptance of normalcy (the way JW looks like he's received a gift before he puts on the carping mask):

The way JW drinks in the praise!

And the end on their faces smiling, happy, in peace and both fully in the sunlight.

I have finished and am bereft and not sure what to watch next and this is def going on faves list.

When I started it, I thought it was solidly written and impeccably acted but why people were nuts for this I didn't get. And now I get it. Oh boy, do I get it!

PS Gimme all the fic recs pls. I don't normally do fanfic much but here I wanna read all the good fic pls.

[angelkhi]

santa's little helper - j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you get more than you bargained for being santa’s little helper.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, some cursing, unprotected sex in an apocalypse (big dumb bitches), creampie (even bigger dumber bitches), pet names, age gap, low-key feral joel, a little bit of pining if you take off your glasses and squint. idk i’m writing this post crimbo dinner prep i’m tired.

word count: 2k

a little note: the logistics of when the breakout started and when the reader was born do not make sense but that is not my fault i'm not a scientist and i'm bad at math. anyways here's my singular christmas fic. to anyone that celebrates merry christmas, and to those who don't, have a lovely december 🫶🏾 (also not proofread i’m tired and it’s christmas)

Christmas is one of the few traditions kept alive in Jackson, with handmade paper decorations about the houses, small Christmas trees nursed to health with the help of Joel, children running around singing festive songs you'd missed for so many years. You felt truly alive for the first time in a long time.

Joel's smile is light, barely visible behind the beard curated from yarn, but you’re close enough to see his upturned lips. His eyes flick over your outfit, a green t-shirt turned dress, some striped tights and a stroke of damn near magic with long expired makeup transforming you into Santa’s little helper.

"Cute as a button." He mumbles. A steady stream of children enter the makeshift grotto and you don't get to enquire. Not that you would. Your whole body is ablaze with nervousness, Joel's comment striking deep, so deep in fact you probably could've foreign caking deep pink out of date blush to your cheeks. He’s one of the few good men left in this world, and his rugged looks are an added bonus, so it’s no wonder you keen for his approval.

The day goes off without a hitch, the smiles on the children's faces when they got to meet the Father Christmas, the endless amounts of crayon covered decorations each kid got to design, the supply of sugar cookies that dwindled far too quickly. You almost felt bad for the sugar rush their parents would have to deal with later on in the evening. But they wouldn’t care. It’s Christmas.

By the end of the night you’re beyond tired. A few stranglers help with some off he menial tidying, but you send them on their way, your morning plans of self indulgent cleaning spree at risk of being disrupted.

The town is quiet, but brightly lit when you lock the double doors, and you use the rare moment of peace and quiet to appreciate all that you’ve endured.

"Let me walk you home." You yelp quietly, the voice from the darkness unexpected. Though not unwelcome when you spy Joel's broad shoulder leaning against the old barn.

"You scared the shot out of me" You pause to catch your beating. He looks apologetic and for a moment you're worried you upset him "You don't have to do that."

"Walk you home or scare the shit out of you?" You chuckle.

"Not scaring the shit out of me would be nice, but you don’t have to walk me home Joel." In fact you can see your home from where you’re standing it’s so close.

"I know. I want to."

Joel fears that's about as close as hell get to a confession. He admired your normalcy in a world far beyond it. He admired you, albeit secretly.

The two of you walk in silence, until he’s walking up your porch stairs and you’re panicking about the once welcomed silence, filling it with an invitation into your home. He accepts with a quiet smile, taking in the festive lights and handcrafted decor.

You guide him through the small hallway into a tiny living room, filled with random trinkets and furniture that’s worse for wear. Its more homely than his humble abode, and it screams you, warm and inviting.

He leans back into the worn sofa, his legs spread. Even in the Santa Clause get up you're not sure how to place yourself. It's Joel Miller for heavens sakes. A part of him secretly enjoys your nervous energy as you hover in front of him, not sure what exactly to do with yourself.

"Here come sit." Joel pats the faded velour, "tell me what you want."

He suggested it without thinking, and of course you comply. You’d walk into a building full of infected if he asked. Something shifts when you find yourself in his lap, you wonder if he notices it too, the way the air in the room suddenly grew thicker filled with something you’re not sure you’d ever be brave enough to act on. Your palms grow clammy. Breathe.

Joel is dumbfounded at just how perfect you look in his lap. He’d keep you there forever if he could. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs guiding a small driving small patterns into the striped tights. He dips his head low, trying to meet your downcast eyes.

“I want you Joel.” The admission has your cheeks tingling in slight embarrassment and an underlying fear of rejection.

"That's it sweet girl. Use your words and i'll give you anything you want."

Those hands slip beneath your dress, a wide palm cupping your warm cunt. He holds your gaze, watching and waiting.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That so?” He hums, eyes raking over your almost innocent face, then down to where your hips meet his. Two fingers tap your thigh and a commanding ‘up’ is spoken. You raise your hips as he asks, you’d do anything he asked in that moment. Joel’s hands snake around the back of your thighs, pausing for a brief moment before gripping the scratchy tights and pulling with vigor. They split easily under the force, exposing you to him. He thumbs the edge of your panties for a moment, the small creases in his forehead deepening when he takes you in.

"Red lace? Where on earth did you get these?" His tone is light, punching through the heavy thickness in his throat and he tries to collect himself, just for a moment.

"I don't scavenge and tell Mr Miller." You chide playfully.

“Don't care where you got em from as long as I get to keep em."

"Then earn them." Joel smiles, not one to back down from a challenge, giving you a small and simple nod.

He’s so gentle when he places you on the sofa you’re lost for a moment, then he’s on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs spreading you open. His thumb traces over the wet gusset of the almost transparent lace, a perfectly harsh pressure building when he rests on your clit. He doesn’t bother wasting time taking off the pretty underwear opting to pull them aside instead.

All of that sweetness, all of the hesitation flies out of the window when he finally catches a glimpse of you, so ready for him. Joel’s sharp tongue is sweeping against you in a bruising rhythm, nipping and sucking on your exposed clit. He’s impatient and determined, losing himself in how good you taste, showing no mercy when you grind yourself against him, gasping when your clit swipes against the soft bump of his nose. Your hands swipe through his salt and pepper waves, pulling him closer and he decides then that he’d happily die between your thighs. Your soft whimpers grow louder until they’re high pitched whines whilst you chase the orgasm he’s so desperate to give you.

“Fuck Joel.” Your fingers tighten around his soft hair, his rough fingers curling your weeping hole. All it takes is on hooked finger pressing up against that spot, one more soft drag of his tongue and you’re finished. Joel’s hips buck up at nothing when you cum on his face, making those pretty noises, hips clean off the couch cushions as you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t let up, fingers moving at a languid pace.

"Gimme one more. One more and i'll fuck your pretty cunt so good you'll feel me for days." Cocky bastard.

You’ve clearly lost all sense, because you nod like you have anything left to give.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’re thighs are practically shaking around his head, and you can barely keep your head on your shoulders. He looks so proud of himself when you find the energy to open your eyes. Like he could walk away untouched, your release giving him all the pleasure he needs.

He manoeuvres your pliant body back into his lap, hands cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"I ain't gonna be sweet on ya." Lies. He's already more than sweet on you, half way to smitten and too much of a coward to confess. If he were one for making rash decisions he'd be on one knee begging you to marry him and making you cum on his face. Though he wouldn't need a rash decision for the latter.

"Don't want you to be soft on me Joel. Please." You grind your hips into his growing bulge, shuddering breaths drowning out your weak plea. You make quick work of pulling down the handmade red trousers, hesitating only for a moment when your fingers rest on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Joel’s chest heaves a little when your soft hands grip him, dragging the shiny pink head of his cock against your wet cunt, slipping him into your sopping hole with ease.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” He rests a guiding hand on your hip, until your flush against him, taking him to the hilt.

“So good for me.” This man and his fucking mouth.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you and claiming you all at once. His lips are surprisingly soft, a heavy contrast to the way he’s gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. It’s not lost on you that he’s doing all the work but there’s not a single thought left in your head, just Joel and how he feels and sounds.

"Got you nice and full don't I?" You try to speak, honestly you do, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine. "Too fucked out to speak. Look at ya', so perfect all for me."

There is nothing that could pry you away from each other in that moment, your panting breaths, the slight tinge of sweat, burnt sugar and pine in the air. Joel's illicit grunts and your soft screams.

He finds some restraint and pauses, somehow placing you flat on your back, the soft couch cushions moulding around your body, worn out springs creaking beneath the weight of you both.

He cages you in, relishing as you practically melt into the worn leather sofa. His fingers hook under your knee, lifting your thigh higher, the small amount of strain forgotten when he sinks back into you hard and deep.

He takes almost as much as he gives, driving his hips in a harsh rhythm chasing his release, watching the way your body responds to him. Pretty lips parted, eyes closed so tight, pussy clenching around him. Nothing will ever feel this good. Joel thumbs at your clit once again, and he completely surrounds you. He’s so deep you can just about breathe, his deep grunts and guttural moans floating about your once boring living room.

He gives you your third orgasm of the evening, and you feel everything but nothing all at once. There’s nothing but him and you and the knowing that you’d never felt this good before and nothing would ever come close again. His thrusts are relentless, your wet cunt clenching around him sending him over that perfect ledge. Your name is the only thing on his lips when he cums so deep, you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He’s completely still, muscles taught goading himself through his orgasm, the feeling nothing short of euphoric.

Joel’s hands find your face again, that softness ever present and he melts into your body, your lips.

“Honey you with me?" He asks after a short moment, his voice hoarse. You nod at first, but he’s looking for words, words you’re struggling to find with what little bit of energy you have left.

"I'm with you. Seeing fucking stars but i'm with you." Joel's shoulders grow less tense at your reassurance. He nods, calloused fingers exploring your cool skin all over again. You gasp in unison when he slips out of you, tucking himself into his boxers and pulling your panties back into place.

"So. Did I earn my keep?" The elastic twangs against your skin and the pair of you share a breathy laugh.

"Sure did. I'm all about giving, in the spirit of christmas of course." He smiles, more triumphant than cocky, though it morphs into a look of pure determination when you speak again.

"Did I mention I have them in black too?"

[dilfartist]

May I request a Part 3 for the Leon las plagas fic?? It's just so!!! Exciting!! How reader reacts to the pregnancy? Weird side effects??? Does Leon's aggression turn into more smothering affection? Do the scientists conduct physical tests on reader (how does Leon react to that??? Does he have to be restrained? Is he present?) Her thoughts as shes kept in relative isolation? Does she bond with the baby she's carrying (talking to the bump, playing games)?

Missed - short (pt.3)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; Visiting Leon after your check-up

Reader description; Female/GN

Edited: No, Yes

Word count; 1k

TW; kidnapping, forced pregnancy, SA mentioned.

Notes; {Last part! Also, very sorry if this isn’t a good ending just wanted to post something to get me into writing again.}

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

“Mrs.(Last name), your breakfast is ready.”

The radiant lights flick on, nearly blinding you despite the dark blanket covering your face, gaining an irked groan from you. It takes an effort to lift yourself, the additional weight in your abdomen making it a laborious act. “What is It?” you utter, voice raspy.

A Nurse enters the room. She hauls in a full tray of food. Providing you with a polite smile, she set the tray on your blanketed lap. “This morning we made you: pancakes, bacon, and eggs; just as you requested yesterday.” You nod showing acknowledgment, returning her polite smile. “After you eat, we’ll start with your check-up. Okay?” you nod once again and she takes her queue to exit.

It’s been four prolonged months since you conceived the baby, or what the scientists declare “experiment 12,”. While your time staying here hasn’t been the best it’s beginning to feel like your new life.

You follow a schedule: first breakfast, then a check-up, maybe a meeting with Leon, and whatever else happens throughout the day.

The food here is okay. Truth be told you wish you could have a burger, maybe even convince one of the workers to stop by a fast food joint. Unfortunately, the scientists prefer for you to eat what they provide and only what they provide. Some day you’ll convince them the baby wants it. Maybe then they’ll get it.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mumble to yourself. You get out of bed and head over to your wardrobe, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a random comfortable shirt. It was nice of them to bring your clothes from home, they were way more comfortable than what they had suggested you wear at first.

“I’m ready,” you call out, knowing they are watching you from the other side of the glass. A doctor enters the room clutching a pen and clipboard. She pushes in a cart of medical supplies, “Hello, Mrs. (last name),” she sings, “How’s you and the baby?” She sits on the chair adjacent to your bed, patting the edge to encourage you to sit as well.

“We’re fine.” you groan, lifting your body up to take a seat beside her on the bed.

“Hm, still no out-of-the-ordinary cravings for pregnancy - no pains?”

“No, still none.” you sighed, looking down at your pregnant ample belly.

Throughout your pregnancy, everything seemed to be normal. You had the same cravings as any other woman, the normal discomforts as other pregnant women- everything appeared expected for a pregnant woman. It provoked worry from both you and the scientists. The normalcy in the pregnancy could lead to an abnormally painful birth or an abnormally formed baby; as hypothesized by the scientists.

You look up to see her documenting the given information on her clipboard. “I’m still allowed to see Leon, right?” you inquire, tone a bit desperate. She glances up from her paper and smiles at you, “Yup! After we’re done, I’ll take you to his chambers.” She clicks her pen and the blue ink tip withdrawals. Putting away the pencil, she pulls out the medical supplies and begins to examine you.

She runs a couple of tests which take about twenty minutes. Then she gets to your belly; gently she touches around the round flesh, her fingertips slightly poking at you not enough to earn your discomfort. You watch as her brows begin to furrow slightly, growing in intensity after every couple of seconds that her hands explore your belly. From your point of view, it’s like she’s checking a fleshy watermelon, gently shaking and poking at it.

After a while of poking and rubbing you like a crystal ball, she holds your stomach for a minute, and her eyes widen slightly. She bends down and lifts your stomach.

“I finally found something anomalous,” she says triumphantly, a smug grin spreading on her face as she perks up at you. You peer down at her, curiously attempting to look at yourself but ultimately failing due to your belly’s size. “What? What is it?”

She stands tall pulling off her blue gloves. “Your stomach is heavier than a normal pregnant woman’s.” She ambles to the trash can by the door and disregards the gloves. “I don’t know why I haven’t noticed it before- maybe this happened overnight or something.” She shrugs.

Now that you consider it, you have noticed other pregnant women don’t find normal tasks as difficult as you do. Well, they obviously do find it hard- you meant from what you’ve been told by the doctors. Usually, women rate their pain as a five or six. You’d rate your pain as a seven or eight in recent days.

Instinctively, you began to caress your stomach. How bad would it hurt during the birth procedure? Wouldn’t the heavier the abdomen mean the heavier the baby? Your eyes widen and suck in a quivering breath. She takes notice of the change in mood, asking what’s the matter. You explain to her your concerns resulting in her chuckling, “There is a possibility of the birth being a bit hard, but I assure you, you’ll be in good hands.”

She leads you out of your room where two security officers are awaiting your arrival. They greet you with a nod of their heads, then continue to look onwards. You’re escorted through the plain white hallways until you finally reach a heavily gated metal door. One of the security guards walks over to put in the code, ensuring his back faces you. The doors open wide and you depart the doctor's side to enter.

Listening closely you can make out the dialogue from taxi driver playing at a medium volume. You shut the door behind you softly.

Leon sits in a wing chair, one leg across the other, slouching back with his head resting on his palm. Leon can usually detect when you’ve entered the room by your scent and the sound of your footsteps, but he was too captivated by the movie. Cute.

You tip-toe over, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. Resting against the top part of the chair you tap the top of his head. Leon jerks forward slightly, he looks up, ruby eyes meeting yours. It takes him but a moment to realize it's you. He grins at you, “You surprised me.” he comments with a chuckle.

“Really? I thought I gave you a hard attack.” you giggle. You take your seat in the other wing chair pointed toward the television.

Leon smiles softly at you. Good, you think. Leon was starting to show off his emotions more openly now.

After the night you had conceived, Leon avoided you like the plague. His mind was guilted with the knowledge of what he had done to you. The person he swore he’d never hurt. It took weeks for him to look you in the eyes. About a month to finally start talking to you continuously instead of spewing a few words as a response to you. Now he was showing his emotions off after a couple of months.

“How was today's check-up? You did have one today right?” Leon questions, slightly moving his chair in your direction.

“Yeah the baby is still healthy but we found out it's really heavy.”

Leon nods his head taking in the new information. You decide to question him on his time away from you, “what about you? Anything new?”

Leon absentmindedly fiddles with his fingers, he recalls his day in slow-formed sentences, “Well, they finally told me when I’d be able to continue working.” Leon had been wanting to get back to work sometime, he’d been asking every month since his captivity. “They say I’ll start next month.”

You hum, “That’s great, baby.”

“It's good and all,” Leon starts, leaning back in his chair, “but I hope I’m not out when the baby comes.” Leon didn't trust anyone in the building when it came to the baby’s delivery. He wanted to be there not only for your safety but to unsure they wouldn’t try anything.

“We still need to decide the name,” Leon notes.

Leon lets out a small sigh, displaying a small smile. He looks at your stomach, “That reminds me, what about the gender? Do you know it yet? Did they tell you?”

“Oh, yeah! Give me a second.” You abruptly stand, hurrying your way as fast as your swollen feet can go to the door. You tap on the door. Tap, Tap, Tap. The door opens slightly ajar, and the doctor peaks in slightly. “Is everything okay?” her eyes flash worry. “Do you have the paper for the baby’s gender?” her worry dissipates, “Yes.” she slides in a vanilla envelope through the crack.

You close the door and make your way back to Leon. Presenting the vanilla envelope to him, he turns to you quickly, eyes slightly wide. “Should I open it, or you?” you sing, waving it in the air.

Leon focuses on the envelope, lips pursed in thought. His eyes softly turn to you, “Could you, please?”

“Okay.” you oblige, teasing him by moving ever so slowly.

“...what do you think?”

“...is it a boy?”

You grin at him not uttering a single word. Leon isn’t sure if his assumption is correct or not, so he asks for the second option. “Is it a girl?” This time instead of making him guess you nod your head.

A smile crosses Leon's face, but it's different from any other you've seen from him. It’s genuine. It wasn’t like Leon never smiled, just a few minutes ago he was- this was just different. He had a smile you could only capture when the subject of a candid photograph isn’t aware of the camera.

Leon is the first to move, hugging you tightly and slightly rocking your body along with his.

If it weren't for the circumstances of the situation, perhaps you too could find unconditional joy in the moment. Yet you can’t. At the end of the day, this child could tear you to bits. At the end of the day, you could die because of the possible unatural birth. At the end of the day, you could be shot down like an unuseful dog after their experiment is finally birthed.

You know the pleasure you feel in these moments will soon come to a soul-crushing end, so traumatizing you’ll awake in a cold sweat many years later if they have not disposed of you.

For now, you’ll indulge in the normalcy of the situation as much as you can.

For soon that will come to a crushing end.

[curseofdelos]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE PERCY & NICO FIC

So this is an AU I'm still playing around with, but the basic concept is that Nico starts living with Percy, Sally, and Paul post-botl, and it would largely focus on him developing a sibling-like relationship with Percy <3

I've only written little pieces of this one so far so not a lot to say as of yet, but here's a little snippet (for context: Nico is in a sleeping bag on Percy's bedroom floor):

“Do you even want me here?” he couldn’t help but ask.  Percy was quiet for so long that for a moment, Nico thought he had misjudged, but an answer came soon enough. “I don’t want you living on the streets by yourself.”  It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes either. Nico huffed, and rolled on his side to face away from Percy.  Behind him, Percy let out a heavy sigh, and Nico could hear the sound of his bedsheets ruffling as he moved. “It’s not safe out there for people like us, and since you don't feel welcome at camp, this was the best way I could help you.”  “I don't need your help!” Nico hissed, glaring at the wall as he curled up into a ball.  “I know you're perfectly capable of looking after yourself, but that doesn't mean you have to.”  Nico clenched his hands into fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.  “Look. I know you're not the biggest fan of me, but give my Mom and Paul a chance. They're good people. They'll take care of you, and if you don't want to do it for yourself… do it for Bianca,” Percy said softly, “she wouldn't want you suffering out there alone.”  Bringing up Bianca was a low blow, and Nico was sure Percy knew that from how carefully he had said her name, but as much as it hurt, he knew Percy was right.  Bianca would want him to be safe (and happy, but that was asking a lot of him right now). He would be safe here, even if normalcy felt impossible after the year he had.  Bianca trusted Percy, even when Nico didn't. Maybe it was time he trusted him too. 

EDIT: you can now read the finished fic here <3

[mothwingwritings]

Sanctuary

F!Reader X Kaoru Hanayama

Hello my little ghost, goblins, ghoulies, and all around babes! By some miracle I was actually able to churn out a lil Halloween fic feat. Vampire Hanayama for you guys to sink your teeth into ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) this hallow's eve. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you all enjoy! Have a FANGtastic and funky Halloween tomorrow, my little morsels~!

(And yes, I realize I am posting two blood-centric fics in a row, I promise I don't have a thing for this heh heh heh)

WARNINGS!: Death, gore, blood, a horny and possessive vampire lord, an elderly couple having the worst day of their lives and terrible things happen to them, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment/being held against your will.

There was a convenience store at the foot of the hill, the last stop right before you start heading into the mountains.

It didn’t have a name, the weather worn, paint chipped sign simply reading ‘GOODS AND SUPPLIES’. The building was so small it didn’t have a dedicated parking lot, and it had a touch of dilapidation that made the rare passerby wonder if it was even still in business.

But the old building’s lights always shined so bright through its foggy windows, drawing any would be customers to the warm luminosity. Though scant, the shelves were always stocked, and the older couple that had ran the place for the last 50 years always gave you a pleasant and warm greeting when you walked through its creaking door.

Though you were sure you must look like a strung out, malnourished, vagabond they never batted an eye at your appearance. They also never questioned why you came around on a somewhat consistent basis, even though all that surrounded you was endless forest and towering mountains, the nearest town miles and miles away. This shop survived solely by being the only accessible place for campers to grab necessities before starting their trek into true wilderness. Places like this didn’t have regulars, at least not until you started coming around.

Maybe they felt sorry for you, thinking you were some poor homeless girl that had holed up in the mountains somewhere just trying to get by. Each time you entered their establishment you wondered if they were concerned you may pilfer from their limited shelves. Not that you could blame them if they did, by all accounts you appeared sketchy. Donned in ratty hoodies, your shifty eyes and general downtrodden persona would have had anyone keeping an eye on you. However, your appearance never alarmed them. If anything they seemed genuinely pleased to see you, their eyes lighting up in recognition whenever they saw you meandering down their aisles.

If they were troubled by your presentation, ever sickened by the bruises that dotted your body or appalled by the shoddily hidden bite marks that trailed your neck, they never spoke of it. You wished you could tell them how thankful you were for that. The reminders on your body were bad enough to deal with on your own, someone else nit picking you about them would be too cruel of a reminder of just how futile your situation was.

This little Podunk store had become your lifeline, your only beacon of normalcy since Kaoru Hanayama had claimed you.  You couldn’t slip away to it often, having to rely on the security of the sun’s rays to protect you from the great vampire lord, but when you could escape his estate you always ended up finding your way here.  Often times you didn’t even have money, coming and going with no purchases made.  Yet still you were welcome here, and you readily sought solace within its fluorescently lit walls, a reminder to yourself that you weren’t the last human alive on this god forsaken planet. It had become your sanctuary.

… Up until today.

You knew something was off the moment you stepped through the front door. The lights were all on, the glow of the welcome sign beckoning you with a brightness that cut through the shade of the setting sun. When you pushed open the door the same familiar chime announced your arrival, and the same old TV in the corner was playing whatever sport happened to be in season (right now it was baseball, and judging by the cheering, a player had just done something good). As usual, the radio was playing outdated pop songs softly over the speaker system, a bit of static barely noticeable as it blended with the jaunty tune.

For the most part, the store looked as it normally did. There wasn’t anything alarming about the old metal shelves holding new merchandise, and the coolers filled with varying beverages lining the back wall all hummed along as they typically did. The aisles were tidy, the floors clean, the racks orderly.  If any other customer had stopped by to shop, they would be thoroughly convinced it was business as usual.

But you were the only regular they had, and you were savvier on how they ran their business. Someone was always at the counter, but today the position sat eerily vacant. Even when they had to step away for a moment, one of the two would call out a greeting as soon as you stepped through the door. Your arrival was always announced, but today no cheery voice welcomed you, there was no warm smile cast your way as you made your way inside.

The absence filled you with unease, a cold dread seeping into your bones.      

Tentatively, you stepped closer to the counter, part of you wanting to call out to see if you get a response. Maybe you had caught them unawares-you did show up at a much later time than you typically did. Perhaps at this time of the day they are busy in back taking inventory or getting ready to restock. Was it really so strange that a small store like this didn’t have staff front and center at all times? It was just the two of them, after all. You can’t expect them to be stationed front and center 24/7.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling nestled deep in your gut that something was very, very wrong. The closer you inched toward the checkout counter, the more unsettled you felt. After a few steps in, a foreign noise came to your ear, growing clearer with every step. At first it was barely audible, a small and drawn out wheezing that sounded in weird intervals. It came from around the corner, near the back where the store room was located. You wondered if maybe the heating system was about to bite it, or an old cooler may be on its last leg.

However, a dying refrigerator didn��t explain the sudden wet sputter that rang out from just beyond your view, followed by a low, agonized groan.

Instinct took over. Propelling your body into action as you leapt across the counter, your legs taking out various snacks and energy supplements as you vaulted yourself towards the backroom. What if the owners had fallen, or something fell on them and they were trapped? Concern surged through you for the elderly couple. Surely there was a good chance if an accident occurred they wouldn’t have the means to pull themselves out of it. If they were in a compromising situation, who knows how long they had been stuck like that, who knows what position they may be in.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight that assaulted you as you rounded the corner.

Red was the first thing your eyes caught. It covered the floor, splattered the walls, coating the world around you. Its source was the kindly old woman whose warm smile you were greatly missing just moments ago. Her gentle, pleasant face was void of happiness for the first time since you met her, instead twisted into a look of abject horror and excruciating pain. She had a pallor that damn near made her look like a corpse, and you supposed that wasn’t too surprising judging from the amount of blood that was gushing from her neck, trailing in angry streaks down her body as it dripped down to the floor, adding to the mass puddle of human gore where her husbands decimated corpse was discarded.

You stifled a gasp, your hands flying to your mouth to muffle any cries or vomit that threatened to spill. Your body shook violently, a mix of disgust, fear, and anguish urging you to flee the scene, leave and never come back. Abandon your sanctuary, save yourself. They were beyond saving. They were beyond hope.

But you remained frozen in place, incapacitated by not only the shock of the situation, but also by the presence of the man that perpetrated it.

The woman hung limply from his mouth, much like how a dog dangles a toy when it’s trying to coax you into playing. His jaw latched to her small throat in a death grip, white fangs peeking through his snarled lips as his eyes caught yours. The only thing supporting the woman’s body was his bite, the ferocity with which he clamped down, the bob of his Adams apple as he greedily gulped down her essence, was quickly and efficiently stealing her life away. With her final burst of strength, her glazed over eyes looked your way. She raised a shaky hand towards you, one final rasp sputtering from her torn throat. Was it a cry for help, or a plea for you to run? Maybe she was cursing you for leading her to this fate. Whatever it was you would never know, as one final bone shattering chomp broke the woman’s neck, effectively ending her life.

Hanayama looked so out of place here in your secret spot, standing center stage as if he belonged here and wasn’t a blight on the ounce of freedom you had left. The whole scene was so surreal you felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, your mind struggled to accept the horrors laid out plainly before you.

His imposing form nearly took up the entire store room, his height making his head graze the ceiling. Looking akin to a caged bear he was panting, his eyes wild as he released his grip letting the woman’s body fall limply to the floor, joining her husband. He was high from his meal, though you couldn’t imagine it being much of a thrilling hunt. The excitement surely stemmed from you catching him in the act. If you knew Hanayama at all, you knew the look of sheer dread plastered across your face was sure to send excitement coursing through him.

He was dressed to the nines in his tailored designer suit, shiny Italian leather shoes clicking away on the scuffed tiles of the floor as he started to approach you, each step adding a splatter of blood to his previously immaculate ensemble. His feral look had waned as he approached, giving him a more composed air. You imagined this is how he must have looked when he entered the building, his stony face littered with scars, inhumanly red eyes boring holes at the cashier, a dramatic shadow cast across his face from his swanky brimmed hat. He would have definitely caught the older couple off guard with how out of place he looked. Such a strange gentleman wandering into their quaint shop must have entranced them. These good-natured and trusting hosts were probably intrigued with his outlandish presence, interested in his story and what brought him so deep into the woods.

They would have never guessed what he truly was until it was too late. You just hoped that it had been quick for the husband, and that the woman’s suffering was not lengthy.

“So this is where you have been slinking off to.” His voice was smooth as he languidly wiped the blood from his lips, smearing the brilliant red across the once pristine white sleeve of his suit. You shuddered as he addressed you, and he instantly picked up on the quiver, though it was only momentary. He knew you like the back of his hand, all your quirks and fears, it was foolish to think he wouldn’t be able to ascertain that you were sneaking off when he explicitly ordered you not to leave the mansion’s grounds.

“I try and avoid the elderly. Past a certain age and the blood loses much of its flavor and vitality.” His eyes bore into yours, a cold smile tugged at his lips, “But these two were surprisingly delectable, even past their prime. Maybe it was their fondness for you that made them so delicious?”

“I didn’t…” the words died in your throat, burning as you choked them out. You cast your gaze towards the dead couple, the shop keepers glazed over eyes soullessly staring at you. They were still wet with tears.

“You didn’t think,” Kaoru seethed, taking another step forward, crowding your personal space. The coppery smell of blood was radiating from him in such intense waves that you could taste the tang of it on your tongue.  “You made a decision, one that I warned you against time and time again, and now you must face the consequences of that decision.”

He grabbed your chin in a tight pinch, the blood on his hands still warm as it smudged your skin. Stepping aside slightly, his hand guided your head, forcing your attention back on the couple. His steady grip kept your head in place as he spoke in your ear.

“You caused this, (name). If you had listened to me and done as you were told, their untimely death would have been avoidable. You only have yourself to blame. May the weight of their deaths hinder you from making anymore foolish decisions in the future, little one.”

He sighed heavily, releasing your chin, “I took a huge gamble coming out here at this time of day. Even with the sun low in the sky it still poses a threat to my kind. I compromised my safety to bring you home.” His gaze softened, his hand relinquishing its hold on your chin in favor of dragging his cold knuckles softly against the back of your cheek.

“It’s good I came when I did. If I had taken even a moment longer, it was sure to cause issues. Before I entered the store I heard them discussing you, talking about their concern for you. It seems they misunderstood your living situation, seeing you as some form of victim, believing that you had some manner of backwater husband that was abusing you.”

He spat the words with disdain, casting a brief disgusted glance towards the corpses on the floor. “They were trying to formulate plans to ‘save’ you, even mentioning they wanted to bring the police into it. Ridiculous.”

A sob erupted past your lips at the revelation, tears blurring your vision as they began to torrent down your cheeks. Hanayama lowered his voice, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders as he pivoted your focus to him, holding you in place. “This is why you must stay inside, my love. They don’t understand us. Most humans have small, closed minds. They don’t have the capability to understand the nature of our love. They only seek to tear us apart, hell bent on placing an end to something beautiful.”

He scooped you up before your legs could give way, nestling you against his chest in a restraining hold. He pressed a rough kiss to the crown of your head as he stepped through the door, beginning the long trek back to the cold, dank halls of the mansion.

“It has been a trying day, and you need rest,” Darkness had overtaken the sky, the chill of the nights air stinging your wet cheeks. The brilliance of the full moon was your only guiding light as it shone down upon the two of you, making Hanayama’s pale flesh appear to glow.

“But the night is young, my love, and you have a lot of making up to do for the transgressions you have made against me this day,” There was a huskiness to his voice, the words were meant as a threat, but the underlying hint of lust made their true meaning crystal clear. “You are mine (Name), and I will enjoy taking my time engraving that reminder into your soul for as long as it takes, until you finally realize your place.”

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Wildflower: 03

The Secret Garden

Category: Short Series

John Wick x Reader

Warning: Public violence, public shootout, stampede-like situation

Note: John is relatively younger in this fic( late thirties to early forties)

The gif is not mine. Credits to the original creator (Sorry, I don't remember where I downloaded it from)

Unedited

Wildflower 02

She enjoyed Alex’s company and so, it was a pub one evening, a bakery one weekend, and a cafe the other weekday. Having a reliable company in the vast city was a blessing indeed. They explored the city on days he could get time off his hectic job, went on random cycling trips to the central park and always had something to talk about.

It was on one such outing when they were engaged in a heated discussion regarding the accuracy of ‘historical facts’ when someone interrupted them. 

“Norton.”

It was a familiar voice that made her turn round. Over the bench where they sat, loomed a tall figure, dressed in all black.

 “Wick?”

The silence that followed was not long, but felt dense.

John Wick’s eyes found hers and he blinked. There was something more than a stoic gaze this time.

“You working, Wick?” Alex asked.

Did they know each other?

“Yeah.”

That was all he gave. He was, indeed, a man of few words.

“Hello, John.” She greeted him, earning his gaze again.

“Hello, (Y/N).” It was his usual voice– low, deep, calm.

But there was something about the way her name rolled off his tongue. It felt different. (Y/N) gulped and mentally shook her head. No, she was overthinking again. She smiled at him, in return, she received a softened eyes.

“You on vacation Norton?”

His gaze turned to her friend– there was almost something unreal about the flicker– maybe it was the way the light fell into her eyes, but they seemed to turn almost mechanical when they turned to Alex– no trace of softness, just…well something.

“Showing around my friend.” Alex replied, but there was a heaviness in his voice. No trace of the light, amused, cool tone she knew.

John nodded curtly “I see…”

“We will get going then.” Alex smiled politely, her bag already in his hold, a silent indication that they needed to leave.

For some reason, despite the doubts and the confusion, she did not question him.

—---

John’s hands remained inside his coat pockets— tightly fisted, knuckles paling as he watched them walk away. It should not matter. He told himself. 

Why did it disturb him?

John Wick considered himself a simple man. At least in terms of his needs, his priorities– his business.

So why was this one simple civilian, so intriguing to him? Who had nothing to do with him, or his business. 

John looked away. Admitting that Winston was right. He was fascinated— fascinated by how oblivious she was, fascinated by her perception of the world around her, fascinated by her simple, (comparatively) unproblematic– normal life. Normalcy– something John could not even wish for– but he craved it. He craved it so bad that it ached. Although now, it was a dull, suppressed throb– his childhood was marred with this…ache, this yearning to be another person on the street– mundane, normal, ordinary.

She was so ordinary, simple yet so complex– with layers of emotions and thoughts that her eyes would always give away. It had, for the first time, John’s heart thumping– like he was in the middle of emotions, not above it– and yet, he did not hate the feeling. 

That was perhaps the reason why he had followed her from two days ago– Alex Norton was good, but not good enough to detect John until he did not want to be detected. He was John Wick after all.

They were friends, he could tell and yet, her speaking so freely, laughing with another man had set an unexpected burn in his chest. Even at thus age, this was a question he felt tumultuous about?

He was just observing. 

Just observing.

Then why did it matter if her smile– that seemed like the sun rising on a field of wildflowers— was directed at someone else? Why did it matter that her laughter, that sped up his heart slightly, was directed at some other man?

John could have the answers if he tried, delved deep enough. 

He simply did not want to have the answers.

Turning away, sat himself down on the bench they had been sitting on. Her spot was still warm, and John, though reluctant, admitted to himself that it felt good– closer to something he could never have.

—----

It was supposed to be a simple deed. Shoot and walk away without anyone noticing. But the drug dealer had a good hand with guns and fists. John could feel a bruise blooming on the side of his face as he chased the man. A head that had the prize of two million dollars on it. 

It was not an exclusive contract and he had already fought off one assassin in the pursuit of putting one prized bullet into that dealer’s head. From the corner of his eye, he could see another figure moving past the unsuspecting, ignorant crowd. At least they appeared ‘unsuspecting’. John knew that more or less, people had just grown used to, grown indifferent. 

He moved past people, shoving some out of his way as he—

BANG! BANG!

John cursed, glancing at the man running parallel to him. And like a typical newcomer, he had to have no silencer. That was when the chaos burst out, people scrambled to get away, screaming, crying, running around. John growled in frustration as he chased his target faster.

Enough of this game.

With one bullet from John, the dealer was down. His eyes found the new assassin— cold and steely—  at least the boy had some sense to get scurry away. 

Mingling with the crowd, he walked the panickem— ready to exit. When he saw her.

Her eyes were wide and confused, looking around in panic as people shoved and bumped past her. She almost fell when someone screamed that there was a shooting going on. John did not know when he stopped, just to watch her. He simply observed, and each little expression transfixed him somehow.

John gulped, watching her eyes widen in fear before she ran off too, not even noticing that the bag she carried had dropped on the floor.

Before he knew it, John was moving towards the bag. Picking it up, he dusted it before zipping it open. His eyes wandered through the contents. Maybe he could find a way to return—

His eyes narrowed at the sight of the familiar black card. Blinking, John fished it out of the bag, bringing it to the light.

“Winston…” He whispered to himself.

****

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // ONE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You wrap up your affairs before flying over to your hometown, where your best friend will soon have his wedding.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: you know it’s a m1ckeyb3rry fic when the main love interest doesn’t even show up for the first few chapters…also please note this is NOT THE FIRST CHAPTER of the story there is a prologue before it!! which gives a lot of necessary background so you’re not (as) confused by the plot

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Sora,” you cooed at your cat, your torso jammed beneath the bed as you tried to pull her out. “Dearest Sora, please don’t make this so difficult.”

“I told you you should’ve gotten rid of her when you had the chance,” Ryosuke said from where he was folding clothes to put in his suitcase. “Honestly, I don’t get why you insist on keeping her around. All she does is shit in the house and make problems.”

“She uses her litter box like a good girl, and she doesn’t cause trouble on purpose,” you said. “She’s an animal, not a person. She’s not capable of malicious intent.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that things would be a lot easier if you had just left her at the shelter when you moved in with me,” he said.

“I’ve had her for years,” you said, finally getting a grasp on her body and yanking her out in one swift move. “She’s a part of my family. I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate her.”

“She hates me, too!” he said. True to form, Sora hissed at him as you walked past, her ears flattening to show the disdain she had always held for him. “And you always take her side. It’s like you like her more than me!”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s a cat. You’re jealous of a cat.”

And you’re the one who’s cheating, anyways. You left this second part unsaid, because it wasn’t really relevant to the conversation, and besides, you had done such a good job at maintaining the facade of normalcy in your relationship that it would be a waste to break it just because he was annoying you.

That didn’t stop you from scowling at him when his back was turned, pressing a kiss atop Sora’s head and smiling when she purred at the show of affection — or was it because you were in the kitchen and near to her container of treats on the counter that she was so pleased?

“I’m not sure what to do with you,” you admitted, scratching under her chin with one hand and opening the jar with the other, offering her half of a treat as a consolation for having ripped her so uncaringly from her hiding place. She accepted it daintily, which meant that all was forgiven, and you stroked her in appreciation.

She was an enormous, fluffy white cat, closer in size to a small dog than anything. Her eyes were a wide, endless blue, hence why you had named her Sora, and her fur felt like cotton when you ran your hands through it. You had had her for almost as long as you had been in America, and you thought that there was almost no one in the entire vapid country who you loved more.

Normally, if you and Ryosuke had to go somewhere, you’d drop Sora off at Chigiri’s. She liked him well enough, and he was typically glad for the company, so it was a mutually beneficial deal. But of course, this time, Chigiri would also be away, as he was attending the same wedding that you and Ryosuke were, which meant that you were somewhat out of luck.

Sora dangled limply in your arms like a heap of rags as you paced about the kitchen, trying and failing to come up with someone who could take care of her while you were gone. Finally giving up when you realized that Chigiri had been right, you really did need more friends, you picked up your phone and called the man in question.

“Yo,” he said, answering almost immediately, though you could hear the shower running in the background, which meant he was either about to get into the bath or had gotten out for the express purpose of answering you. Either way, you decided not to hold him up with useless pleasantries.

“Hey, Chigiri,” you said. “I heard you’re going to Reo and May’s wedding?”

“Yeah, I’m between jobs again, so it’s not like I need to take off work or anything,” he said.

“Again?” you said, your resolve to have a quick conversation shattering almost immediately. The sound of water stopped, which meant that he, too, sensed the call was probably not going to be a short one.

“Tell me about it. I can only land short-term gigs at the moment,” he said.

“Maybe you should just move away from trying to coach entirely,” you suggested. “You were a marketing major, right? You could probably go corporate.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m that desperate yet. I’m sure something or another will come along. The issue is that no high-level team wants a coach who hasn’t played in years, but those high-level gigs are the ones that are much steadier in terms of pay and schedule,” he said.

“I’d want you as a coach,” you said loyally. “If I was a soccer player.”

“You’d be a shitty soccer player. I don’t even think my coaching could change that fact,” he said.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“And there I was, trying to support you,” you said. “On a more serious note, though, any team that doesn’t hire you just because of what happened back then is stupid.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but try telling them that. It’s all ‘sorry, but we want a coach that has a little more experience.’ I have experience! The only reason our school ever won games was because of me, even after I stopped being able to play myself. It’s not like that dumbass coach ever did anything for us beyond praising your peacock bastard fiancé,” he said

“Exactly,” you said, though you had no idea how true this was, as according to Ryosuke, he had been the one to carry the team to victory. The roles Chigiri might’ve had to play in their victories, if any, had always been omitted.

“Ugh, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m sure there’s some youth league that’ll take me on next season, so it’s okay. I’ll work it out, like I always do,”he said.

“Let me know if you need help at any point,” you said.

“Always,” he said.

“In the meantime, uh, I actually need your help,” you said.

“Right, I was wondering why you had called,” he said.

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone else I can leave Sora with, so I was going to pay one of my company’s interns to watch her while we’re gone,” you said.

“Aw, make sure you pick someone gentle. She’s very particular,” he said.

“You know, she is my cat,” you said.

“Just reminding you!” he said.

“I think I know who I’m going to ask already, so as long as he agrees to it, it’ll be fine,” you said.

“Okay, so what’s my place in all of this?” he said.

“Ryosuke and I have to go over a little earlier, since I’m the maid of honor, so I was wondering if you’d be alright with watching her until you have to leave?” you said.

“Why, because you don’t have to pay me?” he said.

“I can, if you want,” you said. “It’s just so she can be somewhere she’s comfortable, since she’s never met this kid before.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry about it. Drop her off whenever,” he said.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “Now, I was kind of in the middle of something, so…”

“Oops, right, go enjoy your shower,” you said.

“Wait, how’d you know I was showering?”

Although there were several interns working for your company at any given time, you generally paid little attention to most of them. You were too busy with your own work and life to care about their struggles, so beyond giving them advice when they asked and helping them out when you didn’t have to go out of your way to, you didn’t interact with them much.

There was one boy, though, who had caught your eye. Something about his aloof personality and quiet demeanor reminded you of a person you had known back in high school, and you had unofficially adopted him, though you weren’t sure if he was exactly aware of this fact.

Actually, he was definitely unaware, considering the way he all but jumped out of his skin when you sat across from him in the lunchroom.

“Hey, Niko,” you said brightly. His dark hair covered his eyes, so you couldn’t read his reaction, but if you had to guess, it was probably panic. If you were in his place, that was what you’d be feeling, considering it wasn’t exactly typical of the regular employees to hang out with the students.

“Um, hello, Miss L/N,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No,” you said. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

He got out of his seat immediately, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app. You furrowed your brow as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“Well? What’s your coffee order? And which shop do you want me to get it from? I accidentally went to Starbucks the other day to get a latte for the director and he freaked out about it,” he said.

“Oh! He thinks Starbucks makes their coffee too sweet, that’s probably why,” you said.

“I learned that the hard way,” he said.

“Yikes, I’m sure that was not a fun conversation,” you said. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t need coffee, and you don’t have to say yes to this or anything. I guess you can consider it to be more of a request from a friend — although I promise I will pay you!”

“Okay,” Niko said hesitantly.

“I’ll just lay it on you,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m going abroad for a wedding soon, and I need someone to watch my cat,” you said. “She’s very well-behaved and friendly! Honestly, she’ll just sit with you on the couch the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll give you her food and everything, and like I said, I’ll pay you, so how about it?”

For the first time, he looked up at you, his hair falling out of his face and revealing bright, shimmering eyes. He clasped his hands together, a smile threatening to dawn upon his face, and then it was your turn to grow bewildered by the sudden switch in his personality.

“Yes!” he said. “I’d even do it for free, Miss L/N.”

“Woah, are you a cat enthusiast or something? And none of that; of course I’m going to pay, or else it’d just feel like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern,” you said.

“I really like them,” he said. “I’ve had one my whole life, but my house is a three hour drive from campus, so I haven’t gotten to see her much since graduating high school. I really miss hanging out with her, though, so it’ll be nice to have a cat around, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Perfect!” you said, cheering internally at how well things had worked out. “She’ll be staying with a friend of mine, so if you’ll give me your number, I’ll send it to him so you can coordinate picking her up at some point.”

“Sure,” he said, giving you his phone so you could type his number into your own. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Hyoma Chigiri,” you said. Niko’s jaw dropped.

“Hyoma Chigiri?” he whispered. “You’re friends with him?”

“Do you know him or something?” you said, handing him his phone back. Niko shook his head.

“Not personally, but I remember reading about what happened to him,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons my parents convinced me to stop playing soccer.”

“Ah, maybe don’t mention it around him,” you said. “He’s doing fine now, but he still doesn’t like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Niko said. “My lips are sealed. I just can’t believe I’m going to have Hyoma Chigiri’s number in my phone!”

“Feel free to act like a fan all you want,” you said, after the initial strangeness of meeting someone still so obsessed with Chigiri had passed. “He really appreciates it when people praise him. Though, you probably shouldn’t spam him or anything.”

“I’ll be just as responsible with his phone number as I will with your cat. Thank you for entrusting me with this, Miss L/N! I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” you said. “And, to be fair, it’s not really a difficult task. Just sit at home and watch TV a lot and be kind with her; if you can do that, then Sora will be perfectly content.”

“That’s what I’d do anyways,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “Now I can feel even less like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern.”

“Thank you again for your faith in me!” he said when you reached your office, bowing at you as if you were some kind of sage master that had offered him a great opportunity for personal growth.

At least he was taking it seriously. You thanked whatever deity had intervened on your behalf that you had found the one person within a ten-mile radius who would care for Sora as well as you or Chigiri would.

Unlike Ryosuke, you barely packed anything but the most basic of items. This was because you knew full well that the minute you stepped foot on Japanese soil, you would be dragged into Reo’s arms, whereupon he would force you into his car and take you shopping at the closest luxury mall — on his card, of course. He was prone to such acts when it came to you, mostly because you were one of the first true friends he had ever had, and so he tended to spoil you as if you were his baby sister or something.

“How can you be sure that Reo’s going to get you everything you need?” Ryosuke said, eyeing the suitcase you lifted into the trunk of the car. “It’s been a pretty long time since you saw him last. He’s probably matured a ton since then — I mean, he’s getting married! What kind of wife would be okay with her husband doting on some random girl?”

“For one, I’m not some random girl; I’ve known May longer than Reo has, and I’m also the one who introduced them to one another. She knows there’s nothing between us, so there would be no reason for her to not be okay with it. Secondly, I’ve been friends with Reo for so long that he’s more like a weird cousin of mine than anything. The Mikages look after their own, and it just so happens that I am, by proxy, one of them. So I can be reasonably confident that it’ll work out in that way,” you said.

“Don’t you feel bad, then?” he said. “You’re using your best friend for his money.”

“You’re so determined to find fault with our relationship,” you said. “It’s not like that. Everyone has different ways to show affection for the people they care about. It just so happens that Reo’s so wealthy that that kind of thing is his own personal manner.”

Ryosuke scoffed, pressing the button to turn on the ignition and starting the car without another word, prompting a worried mewl from Sora, whose carrier was currently on your lap. You tapped the side to remind her that you were still there with her, and she quieted at that.

“Don’t forget that we have to go to Chigiri’s first,” you said.

“Yes, yes, we’ll stop by your lover’s house,” Ryosuke said. At your surprised expression, he laughed. “What? You’re always with him or at his place. Any normal person would suspect it.”

There were a million things you could say in response, but the least-inflammatory was a repetition of the same thing you had been telling him since the day the two of you got together.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone but you,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess that’s true. No matter how many people you sleep with now, you can never change the fact that I was the first.”

“Hm,” you said, staring out of the window and speaking to his reflection instead of facing him properly. “Don’t be crude.”

“Come on, it’s just us two. When else can we make these kinds of jokes?” he said.

“You didn’t seem like you were joking,” you noted.

“Y/N, I’m hurt. You thought I was being serious? I mean, did you really think that I believed for a second that anyone preferred that washed up princess’s company to mine?” he said, stalling the car in the driveway and grinning. “Tell him I said hi.”

“You and I both know that’ll accomplish nothing,” you said, slinging the bag of Sora’s things over your shoulder and gripping the handle of her carrier so tightly that your knuckles whitened. “I’ll be back soon. No point in missing our flight.”

“I’ll be here,” Ryosuke said, waving at you as he began to fiddle with the knobs on the car’s dashboard, evidently trying to decide whether he wanted the radio to play classical music or the latest episode of some talk show.

You rang the doorbell and then stepped back, knowing it might take Chigiri a second to get to the door depending on where in the house he was located. Luckily, he had been expecting your arrival, so by the time your arm began to grow numb from holding Sora’s carrier, he was opening the door and inviting you in.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you said, setting the carrier down with a thump and massaging your shoulder. Chigiri crouched gingerly, unzipping the opening to the carrier and allowing Sora to peek her head out. When she realized where she was, she bounded out, rubbing her head against Chigiri’s legs as he breathed out a laugh and rubbed her face with his hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s nice having someone else in the house. Less lonely.”

Your face softened, and if it weren’t for Ryosuke’s presence looming in the driveway, you’d have leaned over and hugged him. But as it was, your fiancé was waiting, and if you lingered for much longer, you risked missing your flight.

“You have Niko’s number?” you said.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a weird kid,” Chigiri said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“He keeps telling me that he thinks I’m cool and that he can’t believe he’s texting me,” Chigiri said, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “So strange.”

At this, you smiled, vowing to text Niko and thank him later. His admiration was exactly the boost Chigiri needed when he was so down on his luck, and though he was pretending like he found it odd, it was obvious he was pleased by the attention.

“As long as he can take care of Sora,” you said. Chigiri nodded in determination.

“I’m sure he can. He obviously has good taste in other things, so it stands to reason that he’d be the kind of person who could really look out for her in the way she’s used to,” he said.

“You would be the first to die in a horror movie,” you said. “Did you know that?”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “I should go. Ryosuke’s in the car, and our flight is soon.”

Chigiri wrinkled his nose, his whole delicate face crumpling at the mention of your fiancé.

“I thought something felt off about the property,” he said.

“You are so dramatic,” you said. “He says hi.”

“Tell him I said fuck off,” Chigiri said.

“I don’t think — actually, sure,” you said. “I’ll do that. See you at the wedding. And Sora, please be a good girl for Chigiri and Niko alike.”

“She will be,” Chigiri said affectionately. Sora had wriggled her way into his arms, and he stood while hugging her to his chest, ready to shut the door behind you. “See you, Y/N.”

You were reluctant to leave, because it would be so easy to stay and talk with Chigiri while playing with Sora, but you knew you had to. Even that knowledge, though, was hardly enough — it was simply the thought of seeing Reo and May again that made you take the next step, and the next, all of the way until you were back in the passenger seat of the car and Ryosuke was reversing the car down the driveway.

“So, how is my beloved teammate?” Ryosuke said. “Did he leave you with a message for me?”

“Yes,” you said. “He told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Ryosuke chuckled. “Sounds about right. He’s always been a petty son of a—”

“Ryosuke,” you sighed. “Do you really get any gain out of insulting the only friend I have left in this country?”

“It’s the same gain he gets out of insulting your fiancé!” he said.

“Which I always reprimand him for,” you said. “And also, he at least has something resembling a reason to resent you. When you do it, it just feels excessive.”

“You defend me to him?” he said.

“Obviously?” you said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I suddenly feel very cheerful and optimistic,” he observed.

“What are you talking about?” you said. He waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a personal musing. Think of it like an interjection from the narrator, except that in this case, the narrator and the protagonist are the same.”

“Okay,” you said. “Sure. If that’s what makes sense to you.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive to the airport in relative silence. Ryosuke hummed along to whatever pop song came on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, and you texted your friends — mostly Reo and May, who had been anxiously waiting for your arrival since you had agreed to come at all.

When you had first started dating, you used to go on aimless drives for hours, talking about whatever crossed your mind. Not a second would go by without one of you speaking, but that kind of constant conversation wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, you both ran out of things to say, and so you began to spend more and more of your time together in silence. That was around the time that Ryosuke began to seek outside assistance in quelling the fire which was constantly blazing within him; whether it was a coincidence or a cause, you could not tell, but it remained that everything had happened at once and led to your relationship now being like this.

You always forgot how long the flight back to Japan was. It was the second reason you never visited, beyond the fact that there was hardly anything worth visiting in the first place — it was a day-long ordeal composed of arguing with the TSA agents, waiting in security lines, and of course the flight itself, which was only marginally bearable because Reo insisted on buying you first-class tickets.

You spent most of it dozing, the armrest between you and Ryosuke pushed up so you could lean your head against his chest as he watched a movie. In the haze of your sleep, you could feel his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers idly stroking your cheek as if that were the natural outcome, as if there was no other place that they could come to rest. It was the easiest that things had ever been between you in some time, and subconsciously, you relished in it, in the soft scent of his cologne, in the warmth of pretending like you were loved by someone again.

Reo had told you, in no uncertain terms, to not even attempt going to the baggage claim. He had contacts in the airport who would take care of it, because of course he did, and so the only thing you and Ryosuke had to do was meet him and May at the gate. You stopped in the bathroom, mostly at your insistence, so that you could freshen yourself after the long flight, which had sapped you of most of your energy despite how much of it you had spent sleeping.

“Are you nervous?” Ryosuke said as you reached the door. He held both of your carry-on bags in his hands, an amused grin on his face as you all but vibrated with every step you took.

“Of course,” you said. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and I haven’t been back home in that same amount of time. I don’t know how it’s all changed. And what if it hasn’t? What if the only one who’s changed is me?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, nudging you in the side. “Look who it is.”

Standing awkwardly by the metal barrier separating the airport from the street in front of it, surrounded by security guards that kept the rest of the crowds at bay, was Reo Mikage. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a polo, sunglasses perched on his head as he checked the time on the — likely expensive — watch which he wore on his left wrist.

A grin split your face, your spirit rejuvenated as surely as if you had never been exhausted in the first place. Cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, you shouted out his name with glee.

“Reo!”

The boredom dropped from his expression immediately as his head snapped up, trying to determine the source of the noise. When he locked eyes with you, he beamed so brightly that you were all but blinded by it, and then you were both racing towards the opening in the barricade where you could finally meet.

You tossed your arms around his neck as soon as you could reach him, clinging onto him tightly, suddenly and unreasonably weepy at the fact that the two of you had finally been reunited. He did the same, squeezing you to the point that you thought you might burst from the pressure.

“I can’t believe you’re finally back,” he said, letting you go and holding you at an arm’s length so that he could look you over with a critical eye. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Where’s May?”

“She had to go to the bathroom,” he said. “She should be back in a couple of seconds, and she’ll probably be furious, too, considering she was really hoping she’d spot you first. I convinced her that it would be fine for her to take a moment to herself, and that it’d probably still be a bit of time before you arrived, but, uh, I guess it ended up being kind of an unfortunate coincidence in that sense.”

“What’s up, man? Congrats on the wedding,” Ryosuke said, finally catching up to you and offering Reo his hand. Reo glanced at it, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did wouldn’t have even noticed the way he hesitated before taking it and shaking it with the firm conviction of a businessman.

“Thanks, Kira,” he said. “You’ve been taking care of my best friend?”

“’Course I have been,” Ryosuke said, ruffling your hair. You did your best to force a laugh, not wanting Reo to have to concern himself with your wellbeing when he was about to be married. “You’ll be the one coming back to America for our wedding soon.”

“That so?” Reo said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I expect to be the first one invited to the wedding, then.”

“Was I the first one invited to yours?” you shot back.

“Er, I mean, not exactly…” Reo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to tell Nagi first, since I wanted him to be my best man and had to give him adequate time to prepare for the hassle of the role.”

“Then I’ll invite May first, since she’ll naturally be my maid of honor,” you said, your stomach twisting at the mention of Nagi. “But you can be second, Reo.”

“That’s right!” a new voice said. “He had better be second, considering he sent me to the bathroom so that he could win our bet!”

And then there she was in front of you: Reo’s soon-to-be wife and your former roommate, May Ducat. Her thick brown hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her peacock-feather eyes gleamed as she embraced you tightly.

“May,” you said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you!” she said. “I miss you every day. Mostly because you were a much better roommate than this one. He snores.”

“Hey!” Reo said, gasping in offense. “I do not.”

You dug around in your pocket before solemnly presenting her with a box of breathe-right strips.

“I know,” you said. May clapped in delight, accepting them and then turning to hand them to Reo, who took them even as he protested that he definitely didn’t need them and how would Y/N even know if I snore, anyways?

“Congratulations, May,” Ryosuke said, offering her his hand as well. May glanced at but did not accept it, opting to smile frigidly instead.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. After a discomfiting pause, Ryosuke lowered his hand, brushing it off against his pants and clearing his throat.

“I couldn’t let Y/N come alone,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time meeting her parents,” he said. At this, May gave you a sad look. Though you had never told her much, she had always harbored her suspicions, always been less fond of Ryosuke than she really ought to be, considering he was typically polite to her.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. Ever the diplomat, Reo was the first to break the ensuing silence, clearing his throat.

“Alright, then! I’ll have one of my drivers take you two to your hotel room, where your things will be waiting, and then tonight, we can show you around. Y/N, they just built a new mall where that park used to be, so we can go shopping there,” he said.

“They built a mall over the park?” you said, your eyes widening at the prospect. Reo nodded.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so much more convenient than the one we used to go to,” he said. You disguised your frown with a yawn.

“Right,” you said.

“Try not to sleep,” May advised. “It’ll help you break your jet lag if you just stay up for as long as you can.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ryosuke said. May gave him a measured look before nodding slightly, turning away to continue her conversation with Reo instead of risking further discussion with your fiancé.

The hotel you were staying in was only a few streets down from your childhood home, and as with all things Reo, it was excessively opulent. The shower itself was large enough to fit at least ten people, and you spent far longer in it than was really necessary, rinsing the grime of your journey off of yourself.

“Going to sleep already?” Ryosuke said when you crawled under the covers of the bed beside him. “May recommended we wait.”

“I know,” you said with a yawn. “I’m just going to lie down and close my eyes. I’m not actually going to sleep or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, patting you on the head. “I’ll do the same, then.”

Before long, the both of you had passed out.

[sitp-recs]

15 21 fics where Draco takes care of Harry

Happy Weekend folks! The last reclist for this self-indulgent HBD Harry celebration week brings the trope we all love and deserve: Harry being taken care of! Let 👏🏻 that 👏🏻 boy 👏🏻 be happy! I’m really soft for this trope because it delivers delicious character development and emotional payoff. Harry deserves all the nice things and I love seeing Draco willing to provide it, whether in the form of physical comfort, protection, shelter, medical care or just good old diq. I wanted to follow the previous lists format but ended up with 20 fics which means I left a bunch out (my first draft had around 30 🤡). As usual I tried to include both classics and hidden gems, and especially some that aren’t in the other lists. Enjoy!

Ceremonials by @jackvbriefs (NR, 4k)

“What are you doing here?” Harry said. This Malfoy blinked up at him, then lifted the bottle of tequila. “I’m teaching you how to make a drink.”

Is This Love? By @phdmama (E, 4k)

Draco wouldn’t call himself a tender man. He fights the forces of evil for a living, trying his best to pay penance for the evil he’s done. He’s fought and killed in the name of duty, and when he’s not on duty, he tends either to play hard or retreat alone. He doesn’t lean on anyone, and he knows he’s not the first person anyone goes to when they need care. Comfort. That all changes tonight.

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille (T, 6k)

Harry kisses Draco in a public place. All hell breaks loose.

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Lusimeles by spqr (E, 23k)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work. “But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

just tell me when it’s alright by M0stlyVoid (E, 23k)

Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

The Green Vial by @eidheann (E, 31k)

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

Expecto Patronum by @writcraft (E, 35k)

Harry Potter is the most sought after celebrity in wizarding Britain. His every movement is scrutinised, his relationships questioned and his photographs plastered over every paper. Harry's used to everyone thinking he’s a hero and has had plenty of time to learn how to keep his biggest secrets hidden from the press. As Draco Malfoy negotiates his feelings for the wizarding world's brightest star, he becomes increasingly attached to Harry and unravels the secrets he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

Breathe In (and Feel No Hurt) by Constance1 (T, 38k)

A tale of love, loss, and of finding hope again. Or the story of how Draco turned into a house-cat in order to secretly bother a depressed Harry Potter until he was no longer feeling sorry for himself.

Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (E, 50k)

When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love.

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo and @babooshkart (E, 51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 100k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[starstruck-cupid]

The sweater

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic in ages. This wasn't proof read, and was fixed by a grammar bot. I just wanted something small for my first, but I started writing and couldn't stop. I hope this is at least a bit good

(edit: name change. Formerly unnamed)

Tw: cussing, smoking cigarettes, mention of weed, lighter, reader accident exposing themselves(underwear)

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

With the cool warmth of fall's air drifting into my cracked open window, my mind began to race. After 2 weeks of nothingness, I realized something was very wrong.

 

Charlie was acting weird.

 

In our 3 years of friendship, he had never acted this way before. 

 

It started small. He stopped coming to movie night when I was invited. His texts became more sporadic. He kept his blinds closed, despite having kept them open for longer than our friendship. He stopped asking for rides. Then he stopped talking to me. No prompt or warning, just silence.

 

Charlie was an introvert. I couldn't blame him for needing a break. As much as I wanted to talk to him or even be near him, I gave him the space he seemed to want. 

 

It was weird. Charlie was my best friend. In these last 3 years, not a day has gone by where we didn't interact. This break was driving me crazy. I slowly started to realize Charlie wasn't just my best friend; he was my only friend.

 

At first, I thought he just needed a break, but as the days went on, I started to doubt myself. Had I done something wrong? My horrible memory made it hard to pinpoint what I could have done.

 

I needed to stop thinking. That never did me any good. 

 

After slowly getting up from my bedroom floor, I looked around for my hidden joint. I know I had one. I always kept one in case of an emergency. I always keep any personal items in my jewelry box, shoved in between my box of loose fabrics and a stack of clothes I would never wear. The only other person who knew was...

 

Charlie.

 

That ass. 

 

Why would he take it, though? He hates smoking. 

 

I decided not to let my mind wander; I opted for a cigarette instead. Walking to my nightstand, I found my pack hidden in the very back of the drawer. I walk into my bathroom and find my lighter on the counter. Opening the curtains and pushing up the bay window, I noticed Charlie's open blinds and open window. His bedroom window facing my bathroom. 

 

I don't see Charlie. He had to be there. His blinds haven't been open for 2 excruciating weeks. There's no way he's not. 

 

Sitting on the cushion ledge of the bay window, I lit my cigarette. Waiting.  Watching.  looking for any sign of him. I could be content with just a glimpse. Anything that would let me know he's still thinking of me

 

I sat like that for an hour. No sign of Charlie No movement.  No nothing.  Where was he? Was he even home? Why is his window open?

 

I finally got up. I walked into my room, looking at the clock. It was 2:30 a.m. That made the lack of life in Charlie's room more suspicious. Where is he at 2:30 in the morning?

 

No.  It's not my problem. I need to give him space. I need to sleep. shuffling around, looking for a movie and pajamas. I decide to watch Suspiria. After putting the DVD in, I go on a hunt for my sweater. The sweater.  This multi-toned, grungy, striped sweater. I thrifted it with Charlie. I had wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. Knowing I wasn't in a position to afford it, Charlie bought it for me. It was my greatest possession.

 

Finding it, tucked neatly into the drawer I used specifically for Charlie-related stuff. This is what I wanted to wear. I needed some semblance of normalcy surrounding my Charlie situation.

 

As I sat on my bed, I turned toward the movie. Already having pulled my shirt off, I started to pull my shorts down. I got them to my knees before I heard a window slam. Whipping my head towards my window, I noticed Charlie's window was now closed and the blinds were shut.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

 

I can only hope he didn't see anything. I rushed to close my curtains, forgetting that my shorts were still at my knees. One foot too far out from the other, and I fall. Instinctively, I cover my face, leaving the rest of my body unprotected. I fell hard onto my floor. Rolling from my side to my back, I began to cuss myself out once again. 

 

Slipping my shorts down my shins and ankles, I sat up. Attempting and failing to close my curtains without further exposing myself, I ultimately decide to crawl to my bed, slowly pulling the sweater off and slipping it over my head. 

 

I get up slowly, still in pain from the fall, and shuffle to the window. Pushing the window down and pulling the curtains together as much as possible, I hear my phone go off.

 

One ping, two pings, three pings

 

Out of fear that they were from Charlie, I decided to ignore the texts. Slipping under my dark-colored covers, a feeling of relief washes over me. I quickly give us trying to pay attention to the movie. My brain was tired and needed a break. I easily slip into a deep sleep, forgetting that my bathroom window is open.

[domaystic]

Domaystic 2023 is back!

link to bigger image: click here

[Image description: a blue clothes hanger with clips where socks are drying under the sun; among the socks the word domyastic is separated in three parts and hanged as well. On the right side: the list of 31 prompts and 5 alternatives.]

Hello! This is THE post for DOMAYSTIC 2023 :D

Domaystic is the combination of “domestic” and “May” and it's a prompt event run on May based on the domestic trope: anything inside, outside, beside the house or that has that normalcy flavor of everyday life.

If any of these prompts inspire your muse, please, don’t hesitate and join!

Text prompts

01 Housewarming   02 A stash of...   03 List   04 Packed lunch    05 Learning something new   06 Under the same umbrella    07 Stained clothes   08 The things in that drawer    09 Mistaken identity   10 Bath   11 Volunteering   12 Crisis    13 Taking turns   14 Parade   15 Junkmail    16 Sleeping habits   17 Marked date on calendar    18 Discount at favourite store   19 Police at the door    20 In the nearby park   21 Handmade gift   22 S/o on the local news    23 Small couch   24 Secret language   25 Misdialed calls    26 Sounds from above   27 Passage through a fence 28 Recycling   29 Lottery   30 Feeling of doing nothing    31 Midnight snack

Alternatives

A. No, no, don't lift it!   B. There's a ... in the room! C. Stop the car, now!   D. Look, I made it work! E. Oh, I can't wait to do it!

Text prompts in German: click here Text prompts in Spanish: click here Text prompts in Italian: click here Text prompts in French: click here

Lots of text under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

All fandoms or original content are welcome.

Any kind of media is welcome: fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, puzzles, diy art, quizzes, podfics, edits, fic recs or whatever it is you feel like doing. That’s all good.

No restrictions in ships, size, min/max word count or the language you want to write into.

As last year, feel free to mix the domestic prompt with anything you like: more drama and lots of crying? YES! The thrill of an investigation for the disappearance of your characters’ fave socks? YES!

There's one prompt for each day for a total of 31 prompts + 5 alternatives with an exclamation point at the end (predictable!).

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you share it on tumblr and tag the blog, I’ll reblog it.

Combine more prompts together? That’s fine but I will reblog the entry only once here on tumblr.

Combine these prompts with another event? Fine too.

You don’t have to do all the prompts to join the event. Do the ones you enjoy.

The event is consistently checked upon during the month of May, but in case you want to share your creation at a later date, you can. I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

As for the reblogs, last year I gave myself a bit of an headache, so this time I’d like to try it this way: once the day of the corresponding prompt comes, people will post their work and then I’ll reblog it when that day comes for me too. Does it make sense? I hope so. I’ll miss the world clocks but let’s just trust each other.

AO3 collection

The domaystic2023 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - all the info and prompts are also on the profile page of the collection.

In your tumblr post I ask you to:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2023

State clearly the fandom name or if it is original content

State clearly if it is sfw or nsfw

State clearly which prompt you used

In case of lengthy posts, use the “read more option”: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

Please, TAG PROPERLY. If there are any trigger warnings, I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

blablabla my story is beautiful, look @domaystic ! 

#domaystic2023 #day1 #[extraA - E if alternative prompt is used] #[fandom name or oc] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

If you have any question feel free to send an ask, inbox is always open. :D

Hi, @thebigbangblogproject​ can you reblog this?

[the-egg]

So This is Love

Song Fic: So this is love - Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas

Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Summary: "you can fix him" except he fixes you too.

Tags: Mild cursing, trauma bonding, strangers to lovers, fluff

Words: 9.8k

Loving Miguel was the greatest choice your heart had ever made, and you swore your life on it. Normalcy was a temporary feeling for masked heroes, but, together with him, it bloomed to be everlasting. The sun to your moon. Together, you would learn to find peace.

Before being a part of the exhilarating world of Spider Society, you lived two lives. Two exhausting lives. During the day, you worked for the government as a public defense attorney. Long hours and a terrible work-life balance were your normal lifestyle. Then, two years ago, you were bitten by a radioactive spider that belonged to the same government you worked for. Since then, you’ve been the world’s one and only spider. The Spider, to be specific. You didn’t choose the name, much like how you didn’t choose to get bit, but at least you got to choose the suit! A shining white with silver webbed streaks across your chest. You preferred Spider-Moon or Moon-Spider as your name, but The Spider had already stuck. Much like how you were stuck patrolling the city at night, every night.

On this night in particular, nothing was out of the ordinary. You leaped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping a watchful eye on all the people you'd sworn to protect.

So, wouldn’t you believe your luck?

One day you were out patrolling in the late hours of the night when the full moon shined brighter than the street lights. While criminal activity was surprisingly low tonight, your senses kept you on guard. Scaling to the top of a building, you stood on the edge as you looked down below. Everyone was now just tiny ants. Tiny ants that were under your protection. There was one ant, though, that caught your eye—someone you couldn’t quite grasp whether you were supposed to protect or attack.

You peered down below, focusing on a dark alleyway that had begun to glow into a rather large hexagonal shape, a tall silhouette making its way through the light.

"Probably not a good guy," you said quietly to yourself, both hands on your hips, waiting ever so impatiently for this mystery to make an appearance.

===

"Hey, Miguel, check this out," Lyla called out from across the platform. "I found another good one for ya!"

The man in question sighed, not removing his eyes from a video of his latest anomaly capture. Despite his team's success, they still lacked in numbers. After discovering the vast concept of the multiverse, and learning from his catastrophic mistake, he needed to expand his team of spiders to keep the multiverse safe and in balance. Naturally, he couldn’t accept just anyone; he needed people he could trust not to abuse their power. People who could make the quick decision to save the lives of 100 people over the lives of one important person.

"If ‘good’ means recruiting another Spider-Plush, then I’m not interested," he replied, his tone flat. Lyla popped up next to Miguel with a smirk on her pixelated face.

"Aww, come on! Just take a peek!"

"No."

"This relationship isn’t gonna work if you’re not willing to compromise." Lyla crossed her arms to solidify her point, yet the smirk still remained.

Miguel’s eye twitched as he ran a hand over his mouth. When he said he wanted an AI with a smart mouth, he didn’t mean this. Nevertheless, it’s what he’s got, and she’s too important for Miguel to boss her around. He finally averted his eyes and looked at Lyla’s screen.

It wasn’t a Spider-Plush, which was a plus, but it wasn’t Peter Parker from the LEGO dimension, which was a minus.

The Spider

Earth 5863

"’The Spider’? That’s a stupid name," Miguel commented, crossing his arms.

"You know what I think is stupid?" Lyla said as she narrowed her eyes at the tall brood. The brood in question made a noise of disapproval. "The name ‘arachno-humanoid polymultiverse,’ but yeah, you know exactly what things sound stupid."

He turned his head to stare at Lyla, unsmiling and unblinking. The AI responded with a Cheshire smile. Taking a breath, Miguel turned his head to the screen.

All Canon Events Completed

Special Abilities…

The list droned on about the usual abilities that came with the title: enhanced speed, strength, hearing, agility, etc. Until the list came to one ability that wasn’t as common: shadow manipulation. No one else in the spider society had such an ability. This person could actually be useful.

"Lyla," Miguel commanded, "I need you to expand on this one. What can they do with this?" He pointed out the unusual ability on the list.

"Oh, so now you’re interested in who I have picked out? They can do, like, shadowy things." Lyla motioned with her hands as if imitating what a shadow was capable of. "Ya know, be one with the shadow? Kinda freaky how the atoms in their body can just go—poof! They can change their shape if they try really, really hard, though, but I wouldn’t rely on it."

Miguel had to hold back an eye roll at her unprofessionalism, but the information she provided always hit the mark.

Having The Spider on the team could be incredibly beneficial on stealth missions, especially since no one would expect them to be hiding in plain sight. Mission casualties could drop, and anomalies could be captured faster. For once in the ever-growing stress of Miguel’s life, he could feel the burden of maintaining the multiverse lighten on his shoulders. He just needed to recruit them and hope that you wouldn’t give him a hard time.

===

So this is love?

When you saw the 6’9”, absolutely stunning figure of someone walking through what you assumed to be a portal, you were wishing they weren’t a bad guy. The suit was mostly blue, save for the red lines outlining certain features of his body. Standing on the ledge, you observed as he looked at his surroundings, seemingly looking for something or someone.

Without even having to determine on your own whether they were a friend or foe (which, in your universe, anyone who had powers tended to be a foe), it hit you. The spider-sense. Connecting and flowing with a stranger you would come to realize wouldn’t be much of a stranger to you anymore.

They were like you. You weren’t alone anymore.

Feeling the same sensation, the stranger's head snapped up to see you.

===

When Miguel felt your presence, your connection, he quickly looked up to meet your gaze. As soon as his eyes saw you, his breath hitched. He felt his heart pound for a quick second before calming back down. Being taken aback by a new spider was never something that he did. Sure, the disappointment he felt when meeting Peter B. Parker was a notable first impression he had, but this wasn’t like that.

In the nearly pitch-black sky above him, you were glowing. The moon behind you gave you a soft white hue as the stars glimmered at your side. You controlled the night. Your confidence. Your power. You were in your element.

And he was about to pull you out of it.

"Moon-Spider would have been a better name," he thought to himself, quickly blinking so he could get back into his no-nonsense, super-serious mindset that everyone just loved so much. As quickly as he refocused, you had left your position at the top of the building, confusing Miguel only for a moment as you appeared in front of him. His eyes followed you as you materialized into the light of the streetlamp, holding his gaze.

"You’re like me!" you lilted, taking confident yet careful steps toward him. "Are you… from here?" You peered at him through your mask, taking careful note of his hands and feet in case he was ready to strike.

"I’m not,” the stranger replied, his voice sending a warm chill down your spine. 

“I figured. Well, I’m The Spider. You might have heard of me before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you…” you trailed your words, hoping that this stranger would fill in and introduce himself. 

“I’m Spiderman, and I’m from a different dimension.” 

Your posture went slack as you cocked a brow at this wannabe Spider. He couldn’t see your expression, but it was the thought that counted. 

“If I wasn’t so tired right now, I would humor you, but last I checked, multiple dimensions haven’t been discovered. Besides, I haven’t heard of anyone talking about a Spiderman roaming the streets.”

The stranger sighed and pinched his brow before holding up his arm.

“You see this?” the man pointed at the watch on his wrist. “This device helps me travel throughout different dimensions. I’m from Earth 928, and this place is Earth 5863.”

“So that goober is supposedly transporting people into other dimensions?”

“Gizmo,” he corrected, “and it’s not just any people, it's Spider-people. People like us.”

Despite being skeptical about his story, you couldn’t deny that you felt the spider connection toward him. He couldn’t have been lying about that. 

“So, there’s more of you out there? More people like us?”

“Yes, I’m only one Spiderman out of the many we have back at headquarters.” 

You have to admit that it was shocking to know that multidimensional travel was possible, but to know that there were other spider people out there made your heart fill with glee. Being The Spider had taken a lot of sacrifices. Shoes that were only your size to fill. Having a friend in this could make those unbearable days bearable.

"Spiderman sounds better than The Spider. I’m jealous."

"That’s not the part you should be focusing on…"

"What? Is this whole visit to my dimension just business?"

Before he could finally get into his speech and proposition, an explosion was heard a few blocks over, followed by the sounds of several car alarms going off and the on-cue cat howling. Both heads snapped in the direction of the commotion before turning back toward one another. "Okay, now I have to go deal with my business." You pointed a thumb behind you as you started walking backward, away from him. "But I’ll be back in probably 5 to 10 minutes tops, so I’d love to hear all about this multiverse stuff when I come back!"

You didn’t wait for him to respond as you shot your webs out and swung away, leaving Miguel alone and a tad frustrated until-

"Hey," Lyla greeted as she popped up out of the fancy little gizmo, "You will never believe your timing! An anomaly has been reported here, and you’re already on the scene. Lucky you!" The sarcastic tone did nothing to bring Miguel joy, but he had a job to do nonetheless. He closed his watch and swung in your direction.

===

So this is what makes life divine?

Over a month had passed since your first interaction with Miguel and the rest of the spider society. To say you were overjoyed was an understatement. To say you were a bit overwhelmed was on point. Having this watch meant that you could finally form connections with people who understood you. They knew what it was like to live a double life. To feel like you couldn’t be friends with people knowing they only knew half of who you were.

They also knew what it was like to lose an uncle, but hey, who hadn’t here?

Despite this feeling of belonging, you felt uneven, unbalanced; it was like you were juggling three worlds. Your first life as a civilian involved dealing with caseloads on a day-to-day basis. Then, you go home in the evening to your second life: The Spider. Now, you’ve been convinced to take on a third: a member of the multidimensional spider society and one of Miguel’s best friends assets.

You were hesitant at first; your mind was muddled as he brought up this proposition while fighting your first anomaly in your dimension. Originally, you were against joining. Why would you spend your time fighting villains in other dimensions when you can already do that at home? That’s when he showed you his headquarters. Let’s just say you were more in it for the spider-people than you were for the crime-fighting, multiverse saving, and all that good heroic nobility.

This job came with a lot of sacrifice and your sleep schedule was gone to the wind, but at least you’re having fun! 

Multiple times a week, Miguel would send you off to fight anomalies, assist fellow spiders, and help him track and record dimensional disturbances. Solo missions became a rarity for you, something you only did back on Earth 5863. Now, you and Miguel would fight side by side with the occasional Jessica or Scarlet Spider.

Miguel was a bit of a brood; there was no doubt about it, but there were days when his face would drop and the hard lines around his face would soften. He was just like you—exhausted.

He’d make the perfect friend, and you were determined to make it happen!

Currently, you and Miguel are in another dimension. Another anomaly report. You’ve done this song and dance before.

Miguel would always go in head first. Let the anomaly think that there was only one spider there to stop them. You would blend in as best as you could, crawling from shadow to shadow and shooting out webs in the darkness to yank the anomaly in the direction of Miguel’s attack. As the song would come to an end, you’d make your appearance known when the villain of the week was a bit disoriented and weakened, and swiftly make a joint attack to knock them cold. The song was over. The two partners would bow and make their way to their next dance.

Today, though, you didn’t bow out.

"Hey," you called out as Miguel was about to make a portal, "let’s take a breather. It’s the last anomaly of the night, right?"

"I don’t have time for a breather," he denied, not even looking at you as he summoned a portal. "You did good today. Keep it up."

You frowned before quickly walking in front of him and placing your hand over his watch.

"You act like there are not around 100 people back at HQ who could easily take over for 5 minutes." You motioned over to the anomaly trapped and unconscious in the force field. "Besides, they’re not going anywhere anytime soon."

He didn’t say anything as he stared at you. Maybe he was death-glaring, but he was wearing a mask, so what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Plus, you didn’t break eye contact. It was a battle of wits, and you weren’t one to back down.

"The answer is still no."

"I’ll quit the team right now."

"No, you won’t."

You gave him a pointed glare, your hand slowly tightening around his wrist. Let him call your bluff; see what happens. While you wouldn’t actually do it, you could tell he had a little quirk about letting Lyla boss him around.

He stayed silent as he gently took his wrist away from you and set a five-minute timer on his gizmo.

"5 minutes only," he agreed in defeat. You smiled at him. He couldn’t see the smile through the mask, but it was the effort that counted.

"Perfect! We’ll be back at HQ before you start to get homesick. Come on." You motioned with one hand as you shot a web onto the rooftop of a building with the other. He muttered something in Spanish that you couldn’t catch but reluctantly followed you onto the roof. Watching you as you sat on the edge with your legs dangling, he wondered why the hell he decided to listen to you. To let you drag him around as if you knew him like you were friends.

You knew nothing about him.

As the silence filled the air around you, he sat down next to you, giving himself a considerable amount of space. He heard you sigh as you took off your mask, allowing yourself to truly breathe after the day you'd had. He followed your motions. Despite his annoyance with your request, he wasn’t fully opposed to it. Throughout your short interactions together since you started working with him, he could tell that you shared more in common with him than he would have liked. You were constantly busy. If you weren’t patrolling the night or stopping an anomaly, you were contacting clients and reviewing dockets. Your brain was a lightbulb that was never shut off until it was so hot it could burst, so when you insisted that you both take a break, he knew you meant it. He knew you were asking if he could switch off your light and you to his.

Two heroes, unmasked, sat side by side, quietly watching the sun slowly rise in the cool air.

To him, it felt nice not having a marathon of thoughts in his head, and he was glad he wasn’t alone. At the thought of your presence next to his, he turned his head and—

His thoughts came to a halt.

Even with the sun slowly making its presence known above the horizon, he could have sworn the moon was still shining right next to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he thought you were absolutely stunning.

He cleared his throat, catching your attention as you averted your gaze from the sun.

"Did you pick the name The Spider?" he asked, his voice quiet as if any louder would break the peace. You hummed as a smile grew on your lips.

"Nope," you denied, shaking your head slowly as the exhaustion crept up on you. "I would never pick a name that had the word ‘the’ in it, but it’s not like I could get a say in it."

"We don’t get a choice in any of it. The title and the powers."

"Yup." Your eyes went downcast, unfortunately being reminded of what awaited you back in your dimension. The unbearable responsibility. The sleepless nights. Now wasn’t the time to think about stress and work, though. You looked back up at Miguel. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, silently shutting off the timer before it reached its end.

"I always thought Moon-Spider suited you better."

===

I’m all aglow.

It was Saturday on Earth 5863, or midday to be more specific. Despite the rest of the world already up and tackling the day, your life as the masked hero didn’t end until 4 A.M. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how tired you were because your body refused to be dormant past 11 in the morning. You groaned, burying your head in your hands, trying to comprehend why your body wouldn’t just rest. As much as you’d like to sink in and become one with your bed all day, your social battery was empty, and so was your stomach. Your sleep was going to have to wait.

During the week, you didn’t have much time to get yourself a proper lunch, mainly just a quickly made sandwich or salad that you’d have to chow down on during a quick lunch break. This made it a struggle to really treat yourself, but you knew just the treat you’d like today.

After stretching your aching muscles, you slid out of bed and got ready for a trip through the multiverse.

===

You walked through the doors of HQ, adorning your suit without the mask and greeting every Spider as you briskly made your way to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Jess," you greeted, catching her eye as she walked in the opposite direction. "Is Miguel in his office?"

"Yup, he’s been there all night. Are you gonna go and bother him?"

"Not today, I might feed him, though. Maybe water him and give him some sunshine while I’m at it."

Jess giggled, committing to the bit, "Well, the kitchen just made a fresh batch of empanadas if you wanna give him some fertilizer."

You hummed happily with her as you carried on down the hall, desperately rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Aside from getting a small box of empanadas, you learned that their hamburgers were now made with buns that looked like Miguel’s mask.

"It’s probably a courtesy to that nice ass," you thought to yourself. Although you would never voice that thought out loud, Miguel was handsome; he was most definitely your type, and you knew that from the moment you met him. The way he acted, though, seemed so defensive, like he couldn’t trust anyone. While you enjoyed your regular rooftop breaks with him, you couldn’t help but want more.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know what he needed from you; he just liked it when you were near him. Whether you guys were fighting or sitting in silence. When he was with you, he felt like he had permission to loosen up a bit. Although he would never voice that thought out loud, the last thing he needed was to feel an attachment to someone who wasn’t his…

Nevertheless, one box of empanadas and two Miguel burgers later, you were off to his office.

When you arrived, Miguel was staring off into the multitude of screens around him on his platform. You knocked on the frame of the threshold before webbing yourself up onto the platform. He turned his head in your presence.

"Morning," he greeted, his tired eyes shifting back to the screens.

"Afternoon," you corrected, emphasizing the time difference. "Long night?"

This time, Miguel turned his whole body toward you, leaning back against the desk to give you his full attention. At this angle, you could see the eyebags forming on his face.

"You have no idea."

You shrugged, your own eyes just as exhausted as his.

"Try me," you encouraged as you tossed him an empanada. "Was it Hobie again?"

"It’s always Hobie!" he exclaimed as he threw his hands up in frustration, catching the empanada in the process. "Two weeks into this, and he’s managed to get sidetracked from his missions 10 times! Instead of going after the anomaly, he went after the corporate head of some phone company. Can you believe him?"

You nodded as he continued his rant but looked around the platform for a good place to set your lunch. Eyeing a small swivel chair near Miguel, you put the food there before leaning back against the desk. The ranting man continued his complaint, but you could practically see the stress rolling off his shoulders as his posture relaxed. You never really minded being a listening ear for him, especially when he let you both have a moment to relax after the pressure of it all. It was a silent, yet mutual, agreement between you and him. To rest together. To be just a bit normal together. Even if it’s the small things like having a quick lunch or taking a somewhat silent break that always lasted more than five minutes.

"I swear if he blows a hole into the multiverse next week... I don’t even know what I’m going to do," Miguel concluded, absolutely exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking up at you, wanting to shine the spotlight on you. "That’s my life, I guess. What’s been going on with you? You look tired."

You took a bite of your burger before responding, "More or less than usual?"

"More."

"Damn. Well, before I start, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Are there any universes where Doc Ock is MD rather than Ph.D.?"

"There might be a few, why?" Miguel cocked his brow at you.

"Because now I have to find a new physician." Hearing your news, Miguel’s eyes went wide as he leaned in a bit closer.

"Your physician was Doc Ock?" Miguel asked as his voice raised an octave.

"Doc fucking Ock," you confirmed, putting emphasis on the added middle name. "I had a fight with her the night before my appointment and finally caught her the next day." You finished off your burger and tossed your trash dramatically into the bin next to you. Miguel had a small smile on his face, finding your suffering just as amusing as you found his.

"How did you not catch on that your doctor was Dr. Octavius? It’s in the name!"

"She went by her married name!" you defended yourself with a smile on your face before sighing. "We’re too tired for this shit."

"Now, that I can agree with." On cue, Miguel yawned.

"At least I’m not as tired as you."

"Doubt it. Have you seen yourself?"

"Have you?" You leaned forward. "It’s like you’re moving in slow motion over there."

Miguel just scoffed, not believing your accusation.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"It doesn’t matter anyway. Just eat your burger already; it’s probably cold now."

You motioned to the food still sitting on the chair next to him. Without turning to look, he reached a hand over to grab his lunch, confident in his aim. You watched, without a single bit of energy left to move, as he missed and hit the chair. Miguel turned to look, just as unmoving as you, and watched as the chair rolled off the high platform.

Both of you peeked your heads over to watch its descent. You turned to look at Miguel.

“So are you going to catch it or…?” you trailed as you looked back down to the swiftly descending meal. Miguel blinked once, then twice. 

“Oh shit–”

It was too late. The chair and delicious food landed with a loud clatter on the ground far below.

The two of you look at the wreckage. Neither of you said anything. Neither of you even thought to web the chair as it made its descent; you were too tired to realize that you guys had the ability to stop it and simply accepted fate.

Slowly, you both turned to each other. You had to put a fist to your mouth, trying to stop the rolling laughter bubbling inside of you.

"Don’t laugh," Miguel threatened, pointing a finger at you, but seeing you try and hold it in caused a smile to bloom on his face. "It’s not funny."

"But you—" You quickly put a hand back over your mouth to stop a laugh— "I'm sorry." You laughed again before shaking your head. "You’re right, that’s not funny. It’s actually very… sad." Your lip quivered as you tried your hardest not to upset him by laughing again despite seeing the smile on his face.

Miguel turned to look back at his lunch. The top bun with his mask was resting on an exploded empanada. The urge to laugh began bubbling inside of him, but he refused to give in. He wasn’t the kind of guy to laugh at silly little things.

You followed his gaze and pointed at the bun.

"Imagine being that guy," you said, your voice breaking. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, and neither could you. Both of you started giggling quietly, gradually growing into full laughter. Miguel couldn’t tell if it was because you both were so utterly exhausted, but to him, this was the hardest he had ever laughed since he lost his daughter, and you didn’t have a clue. Neither of you could stop gasping for air, and you had to place a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself. He placed a hand on your shoulder so you two wouldn’t topple over, leaning close to you as the laughter kept rolling out.

As the humor died down and your eyes met his, the smiles on your faces continued to bloom. No matter how extraordinary the circumstances of this situation, for a moment, you two felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: normal.

===

And now I know.

Something wasn’t right today. For once, your workload was light, and your patrol was more of a peaceful midnight walk. When it came to your third, most preferable life, you knew there had been a shift. You were sent on a mission with a different group of spiders, Miguel not being one of them. Then, when you went back to HQ, no one had seen Miguel. Some spiders had joked that he had finally taken a day off, but you knew better than that. The only time he seemed to ever take a break was when he was forced to, and not even Peter B. knew where he was!

The only information you could get out of Peter was,

"Today is not a good day for him," Peter grimaced. "It’s probably best to let him be."

"Why? What happened?" you questioned as your brows furrowed.

"It’s not my place to say, bud. Sorry!"

You weren’t going to press Peter further, already gathering that whatever had happened was a sensitive topic to discuss, but there was one thing you knew for sure. Miguel was alone. More importantly, Miguel struggled to take care of himself mentally and socially, and he struggled even more to admit that to anyone.

Despite worrying that you may be overstepping your boundaries with him, you went into his empty office and asked Lyla to track him down for you. Again, you were met with resistance.

"I dunno if I should tell you," Lyla cautioned, shrugging her shoulders at you. "He told me not to tell anyone where he was going."

"And how often do you actually listen to his requests?" you argued, noting a serious change in Lyla’s tone. "I’d like to make sure Miguel is okay. He’s my friend."

Lyla cocked a brow at you, knowing full well how "friendly" you and Miguel seem to act around one another. Taking breaks to watch the sunrise and sunset while sitting less than a foot apart. Joking around with one another whenever the moment aroused. Grabbing a meal when you stopped by his office. Yeah, these were totally activities that Miguel does when he’s "just friends" with someone. She’s seen the looks you two give each other. Whether you realized it or not, you guys didn’t like each other just as friends. Not only that, but in the six months you had been here, there had been a change in the atmosphere around HQ. Miguel was smiling more, you were happier, and missions ran more smoothly with you two as a team.

So, fuck it. Miguel can yell at Lyla later if this all goes wrong.

"Fine," Lyla groaned, despite believing that sending you to Miguel was a good move. "Good luck."

===

Miguel sat on the rooftop of an Earth that wasn’t his own. The sun was on the cusp of setting as warm orange and pink colors slowly made an appearance in the darkening sky. He refused to meddle in this world, not even going down onto the streets to interact with anyone. Instead, he sat on the rooftop alone in his thoughts as he watched the people live their normal lives down below. Doing this made him feel alone, like an outcast undeserving of the simple pleasures life had to offer. In his mind, this feeling was what he deserved; the joy of simplicity wasn’t a concept he could keep in his life. For him, he needed this reminder of how he should feel after what he had done.

The sound of a portal opening could be heard behind him. Miguel immediately tensed; no one should be here. He turned his head, already glaring at the person who dared to track him down today. Unfortunately, it was you. His glare softened. No. No. NO. You could not be here. You can’t be here. Especially today…

You stood there silently, your mask off and your hands fidgeting, as you looked at him with your kind eyes. Even without words, you could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, but you could also see the look in his eyes. He was scared. Nervous even. You had to tread carefully. He was your friend, but there was still so much you didn’t know about him.

"I don’t know what you’re going through, Miguel," you started, your voice a touch quieter, "but I’m here for you."

He turned his head away from you, unable to tell you to go away. He wanted you here with him, but—

"I don’t deserve it," Miguel finally said, his voice level matching your own. You took his voice as a reason to move closer, sitting next to him on the rooftop.

"What don’t you deserve?"

"This." He motioned between the two of you. "I don’t deserve to have this kind of peace."

"Why?" Your eyes pleaded for an answer, knowing that he had the right to not tell you anything yet silently begging for him to open up to you. He didn’t answer as he continued to look down upon the crowds of people walking on the street, a hard expression glazing over his face. He was too nervous to admit to you what he had done in fear that you would leave after knowing how selfish he once was. You reached out one more time, placing a hand on his shoulder. At the warm contact, Miguel turned to look at you again. "Please," you begged. "You can be vulnerable with me, I promise."

He searched your eyes for a sliver of regret, an instance of a fruitless promise, but he found nothing. Sighing, he placed a hand over your own, his eyes finding security in yours.

"Understand that I regret what I’ve done, and the actions I took are inexcusable."

You nodded.

"I’m here for you," you reassured, trying to quell the tension choking the air around you two. Miguel squeezed your hand before you pulled away.

He told you everything.

What he did. When he did. Why he did it.

Your heart cracked inside your chest. It yearned to reach out and hold him. To tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That he couldn’t have known the consequences of breaking canon. This tragedy had become the driving force behind all that he did within the Spider Society. He’s exhausted because he felt he didn’t deserve to rest knowing he put the lives of an entire reality six feet under, including his daughter. The daughter that wasn’t really his. The daughter, the family, that he so desperately craved but felt he could never achieve in his own time.

Instead of an embrace, you told him everything that was running through your mind. You knew that his self-deprecating mindset was not something you could fix in this conversation, but you could push him in the right direction. Encourage him to go to one of the many therapists back at HQ, help take some of the blame off his shoulders, and remind him that he deserves and will find his own happiness and normalcy in his own life. In his own reality.

Miguel listened to every word you had to say, taking it more into consideration than he would have if it were someone else. As he continued to sit close to you, listening to your sweet voice, he felt his heart swell before realizing he was in deep trouble.

He was in love with you.

===

The key to all heaven is mine.

This mission was a shitshow.

Three Green Goblins, all from different dimensions, combined forces to try and carry out their mission here in your dimension. Even with Miguel’s help, you struggled to do your song and dance, and once your position was revealed way too early, you had to call for backup.

It was barely enough.

Jess and Peter B. were an enormous help, but the anomalies were too erratic with their movements; their lack of coordination, unfortunately, proved to be a solid strategy against the spiders. Miguel told everyone to split up and try to drag the Green Goblins away from one another, so you quickly got the attention of one and tried to maneuver them away. With your abilities, you normally relied on stealth to carry you through a mission; unfortunately, you were forced to face this villain head-on. Jessica was handling the one on the left, while Miguel and Peter were farther down the street.

It hurt like hell. You had been knocked into a building one too many times for your liking, but honestly, your pride was more bruised than your body. Thankfully, your little shadow disappearing act came in handy, allowing you to web your green fucker up nicely between two tall buildings. Admiring your handiwork for a mere second, you had to act fast and trap him before assisting the others.

"Watch out!" Miguel screamed from down the block, his voice practically vibrating the space around you. Quickly, you turned around as you saw a large shadow loom over your head, far too close for your liking. It was a semi.

Son of a—

===

Miguel watched from afar as the semi-truck crashed directly where you stood with a chilling crunch. His heart dropped to the bottom of his chest, and his eyes were fixed on the crash site.

He didn’t see you leave on time.

At that moment, something crushed inside of him; the adrenaline in his body pumped faster, and the ringing in his ears grew louder. His mind had forgotten about the mission. He couldn’t, not when you were...

He needed to get to you now. His senses slowly came back to him, but the weight in his chest still hung heavy.

"Fuck!" he cried, swinging to your location as fast as he could, not hesitating to start dragging the semi with all of his strength. Jessica and Peter came to assist as soon as they captured their anomalies; they couldn’t waste a second knowing that their teammate had been hurt, or worse.

Together, they pulled the semi away to reveal nothing.

You weren’t there.

Miguel was frantic. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for a trace of your white suit. Still nothing. He called your name. His vision was blurred. He couldn’t find you anywhere. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even think. He called your name again.

Jess placed a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. He tensed at the contact.

"You keep searching for them. Peter and I will take care of the anomalies. Breathe, Miguel," she urged, trying to soothe the man who was losing himself in the depths of his mind. Her words meant nothing to him, not when he couldn’t even think straight. Despite his scattered mind, his eyes caught something—the white that had brought him so much comfort these past several months.

There, under the shadow of the semi, you emerged, a little roughed up but otherwise fine. You were alive.

"I’m sorry," you panted as you took off your mask. "Even in the shadows, I couldn’t find a way out from under the—"

He didn’t let you finish.

Moving quickly toward you, he took off his mask and pulled you tight against him. Arms wound around you in a tender, shaking embrace. He pressed his chest up against yours, desperate to feel your heartbeat and to give him more assurance that you were alive.

"Miguel?" you spoke, your voice soft as you were unable to do anything but hold him. "I’m sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t have time to swing out, so I had to go under." You pulled back slightly, feeling resistance from Miguel’s hold on you. Noticing the tears building up in his eyes that were looking through you, you placed a hand on his cheek. "Hey," you consoled, bringing him back to the present. "I’m okay."

Finally, he met your eyes fully, taking a couple controlled deep breaths like he had been practicing in the therapy sessions you urged him to go to. His hand came up to grasp the one on his cheek. He never wanted to go through this feeling again. He never wanted to let you go.

"Yeah…" he trailed, "I’m sorry I—" he sighed—"I didn’t mean to overreact like this. It’s just—"

"No," you asserted, not allowing him to downplay his emotions. "You didn’t overreact. I would have done the same thing if this had happened to you. Please don’t apologize." He hummed at your words, a small smile growing on his face. Turning his head, he kissed the inside of your palm; your heart fluttered at the contact.

"Cariño, you’re too good for me."

You smiled, your face heating up at his sudden affection. This man made your heart swoon over the simplest of things, and you made his heart go crazy. You both wanted more from each other, but you knew it was going to take time. It was going to take healing. As long as he continued to hold you with such tenderness and love that you could not compare, you knew you wouldn’t mind the wait. For now, though, you two would go back to HQ, side by side, and continue to save the multiverse.

You’ve waited this long to find someone you can be at peace with; a little more time wouldn’t hurt anybody.

===

My heart has wings.

And I can fly.

Exhausted couldn’t even begin to describe the state that you were in. The juggling act you had been doing for about a year now had started toppling over. Your work had gotten sloppy; you were constantly missing your targets on missions and somehow portaling to the wrong dimensions. The worst was when you nearly showed up late to a trial at work. Despite teetering on the edge of insanity, you still willed yourself to go to HQ, as you craved the comfort your friends could provide simply by talking to you. Even if it was during a mission.

This mission in particular was your breaking point.

It was just you and Miguel. The two of you were in a dimension you couldn’t remember the name of while fighting the next villain of the week. The sun was still shining brightly out on a Sunday afternoon, and it seemed like this earth was having a peaceful day until a comic book Prowler came crashing in.

The usual song and dance were done, and the Prowler was contained and ready for the Go-Home-Machine. There were a few minor flukes along the way, like missing a couple of webs and not having enough energy to stay inside a shadow for very long. All of which Miguel lightly scolded you for, but you found it to be more out of concern for your well-being than out of anger.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t take a nice, long break. There wasn’t a time in your life when you could relax for hours on end or do nothing for a whole weekend. There were always some tasks you had to do: grocery shopping, night patrolling, taking your car to the shop, missions, cases, house cleaning, laundry, and the list goes on and on and on. It was ruthless and never-ending.

"It’s still pretty early," Miguel noted as he picked up the unconscious Prowler. "How about we grab some lunch when we head back?" You weren’t focused on him, though.

The fight had taken place at a nature center with beautiful forestry and vast trails throughout the area. Your enhanced senses picked up on someone in the distance in the parking lot.

You.

A version of you who was getting out of the same car you drove. Eyebags were nonexistent. Your body glowed and radiated with energy and joy. It was like looking at the sun. There you were, happy, content, and normal, hanging out with friends on a Sunday afternoon in a nature center. You held no secrets about a double life. No hint of exhaustion. There is no looming worry about upcoming stress.

This version of you was living the life you dreamed of while you lived like this. Not living one life, but three.

Your eyes grew wet as your breathing slowed. All this suffering. All this exhaustion. What was it all for? You couldn’t tear your eyes away from yourself.

"Hey!" Miguel called out, noticing your lack of response. "Are you all right?" You couldn’t hear him. While you were wearing your mask, he recognized the symptoms and noticed your labored breathing. "Cariño—" he said, placing his free hand around your shoulder—"regresa a mí." He followed your gaze and saw what had shut you down. His heart sank. He knew all too well how you were feeling. "Let’s go."

Gently, he guided you back through the portal, dropping you off at his office for a quick moment while he took care of the anomaly. You sat on his new, non-swivel chair and stared at the multitude of holographic monitors showcasing all around HQ. All these different Spider-people, laughing and communicating as if they’ve gotten a good night's rest, as if they can guarantee one square meal a day. What were you doing wrong?

You bit the inside of your cheek as the envy bubbled within you.

Why did you have to get bitten?

A warm hand on your shoulder halted your thoughts. You turned your head to see Miguel standing over you, his eyes holding an empathy that could make you melt if you weren’t tipping over the edge of your mentality.

"I’m sorry," you murmured, taking a breath. "I shouldn’t have reacted like that in front of civilians. It wasn’t very professional of me." Allowing yourself to embrace his comfort, you placed your hand over his. In return, he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of you.

"I know we joke about our terrible work-life balance, but I’d rather see you happy and healthy than make jokes about your misery." You managed a small smile.

"Being funny is my charm. The misery comes with it."

"But having you in my life is a charm I never want to lose," he argued, not wanting to feed into your humor. "I know how much seeing something like this can hurt you, so please talk to me."

You trusted Miguel with your life, so you opened a part of your heart to him. A part that buried your burdens with each passing second because you worked for others and not yourself. The part that people hide from others to give the impression that they had their whole lives life together. Because if you didn’t, then you were incapable. Then you weren’t strong enough. Then, you weren’t worthy of a title you didn’t ask for but would still die on a hill defending the name.

You were incapable of living three lives, yet didn’t you just start out with one? What happened to that one?

Avoiding his gaze, you looked down at your interconnected hands. Unable to look at him without shedding tears, you flooded him with three different worlds. Your worlds.

He rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand, mesmerized by the weight of your hand against his. He wished he could hold it forever. How he wished he could take away the pain that was destined to fall on you. The feeling of your hands intertwined was one that he wished would take root and grow—a touch that was fairly unfamiliar to him yet one that he found himself craving desperately. Without a complaint, he absorbed every word you spoke like a sponge, knowing full well how you had dropped everything to do the same to him, his heart aching at every self-deprecating comment you made.

He understood where you were coming from. The worthlessness you felt as you wondered what it was that you were doing wrong. He also knew now that it's harder to see the ocean when you’re the one drowning in it. It was going to take time, just like how he was learning to forgive himself, but he’d help you through your struggles the same way you did with him: by providing patience, care, and normalcy.

When you eventually came to the end of your stressed ramble, he watched you take a shaky breath before he placed his hand on your cheek.

"I know you’ve already told me this once, but you deserve to be happy in your own life, and you will find it. You’re not weak for wanting to take on less responsibility or for wanting to be normal." He wiped a stray tear that was falling down your cheek, noticing the buildup of tears glazing over your eyes. "You and I both know that what you’re doing isn’t manageable, but I want you to know that I am here for you. I… I want us to be as normal as we can be as Spider-people, and we can do it together, okay?

The tears bundled in the corners of your eyes flowed freely down the wet tracks on your face. Trying desperately to take a breath—a breath meant to calm you and help clear your head—got caught in your throat.

You sobbed.

You sobbed like you had just lost your uncle, like you did when the captain of the police force (one of your closest friends) died. You sobbed like you did after a month of being Moon-Spider, except now you weren’t alone.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to join him on the platform, on stable ground, as he rubbed your back and let you have your long-overdue breakdown. Though your mind was scattered, your heart was set here with Miguel. No matter what, being your dimension’s masked hero was a title you would hold with pride, and you refused to hang your cape even if it killed you. Yet not all your lives revolved around the mask.

When Miguel calmed you, he reluctantly said his goodbyes as you insisted on going back to your own dimension. You weren’t going to sit here anymore and cry; with a newfound freedom, you went home.

You took on no new clients.

Finished your cases.

And quit.

===

I’ll touch every star in the sky.

So this is the miracle,

Everyone had their own nickname in the Spider Society. After a year of being members, you and Miguel were crowned the "work spouses." It started off as a joke.

"Hey, your work husband is mad again. Do you mind talking to him, please?"

"Miguel! Where did your work spouse run off to now?"

Now, it wasn’t really a joke. After everything you two had done for one another, how could someone not fall in love?

===

That I’ve been dreaming of.

"Break?" Miguel offered after the now-paralyzed anomaly was safely captured. You agreed, stretching your arms above your head to look at the sky. Despite it being around six in the morning, it had begun to lighten up. Together, you picked out the highest rooftop you could find and swung up to take your usual five(ish) minute break. Side by side, you sat, enjoying each other’s company and having idle chit-chat.

For once, this break wasn’t a desperate attempt to switch off a light bulb that’s been shining for far too long. After quitting your job over a month ago, life became much more bearable. There was still a long road ahead to unstick the pessimistic mindset you had grown comfortable with, but being able to breathe without the resistance of stress on your shoulders outweighed the costs. You were still missing something, though: peace. A type of peace that was so close to you that you could hold its hand. A type of peace that was so handsome that sometimes you found yourself blushing. You wanted that peace, and peace wanted you. It wasn’t enough to be friends with it anymore.

"Miguel?" you said softly, moving your hand to press up against his. "Can I ask you something?"

Miguel placed his hand on top of yours.

"Sure."

You took a moment before responding.

"What am I to you?"

His hand practically froze on top of yours as he turned to look at you, the gears turning in his head.

"We’re… friends."

You scoffed, but there was no malice behind it and gestured at your hand intertwined with his.

"Do you really call this ‘friends’?"

"Okay. Close friends."

"Miguel."

Nervous about the confrontation, he stood up abruptly and headed toward the unconscious anomaly, ready to head back to HQ.

"I don’t think we should mess with what we have now," he lied straight through his teeth, not wanting to look at you in fear he would fold. You stood up after him, slightly shocked at his response but not wanting this conversation to run away.

"Am I just a work spouse to you?"

"Now you know that you are more than that to me," Miguel scolded as he turned and pointed a finger at you, upset that you would think such a thing.

"Then why don’t you want to show me? Treat me the way I want to treat you? I don’t want to keep acting like this knowing that I love—"

"Fuck, I’m scared!" His voice raised slightly as he cut you off, his heart pounding at your near confession. You froze, recognizing the look in his eyes, but still pushed to ask:

"Why? What makes you so scared to be with me?"

"How every time I start feeling excited about my future, how I start feeling excited with you, it goes terribly wrong. I’m scared it's all going to crumble. No quiero perderte, amor. If something bad happens to you, I just— It would be my fault!"

His words sat in the air. This behavior was familiar. It was the same ocean, just a different person drowning.

"And if you were to get hurt…" you cautioned as you carefully chose your words, not wanting this to become an argument, "…would it be my fault?" Miguel opened his mouth, but you refused to let your words go unsaid. "If I were to feel loved and safe with you, would it be my fault or yours? You can’t control the actions of others, Miguel, but you can control yourself and how you respond to others." You sighed as you gazed at him with those worried eyes he loved so much. "Miguel I thought you were working on this," you said, referring to the therapy sessions he had taken in the past.

"I have—chingado—lo siento!" He cursed, trying to remedy the situation. "I swear I’ve been. It’s just… I love being with you, but I’m worried that if you get too close, you’ll get hurt. Having that normal life, it feels unnatural to me."

"In the year I’ve known you, I have never gotten hurt because of something you've done," you refuted, refusing to let him compare this situation to what had happened with his daughter. You walked closer to him and reached out to hold his hands. "I understand why you’re nervous, but this is different. We are different. It’s your own happiness. It’s your own life, and it hurts watching you try and punish yourself for living it. You’re not a bad person, Miguel."

Unable to form words of his own, he pulled your intertwined hands toward him and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You don’t understand how good you are to me," he sighed as he embraced your comfort. You move your arms around him, allowing yourself to sit in this temporary peace for a moment. When you felt he was calm, you spoke again.

"Do you feel ready to be in a relationship right now?"

He was hesitant to answer, but when his head was above the water, he knew denying it would be self-sabotage.

"Only if it’s with you."

Your face heated up; you were constantly at the mercy of Miguel O’Hara’s words.

"We can take things slow. It’s not like I have much experience with relationships either, you know? So, if there’s anything you ever wanna do or try, just ask. Just stay with me, and I’ll stay with you."

Miguel hummed, and you could feel a smile forming on his lips in the crook of your neck. Slowly, he moved his head to face you, leaving a mere few inches between you two.

"Can I kiss you?" With your breath now hitched, all you could do was nod before he closed the gap. It was short, sweet, and addicting. He held you tight around your waist, and in return, you moved your arms around his neck, pulling him in. When you broke apart, who could blame you when you leaned back in for another? Another? Okay, maybe just one more, but you promised it was the last.

Miguel chuckled, finding it in himself to pull away and open his eyes to you. Your pupils were dilated, and your lips were slightly swollen; you were electrifying. He had the urge to finish what he started right there on the rooftop, but you didn’t deserve some quick sex in a random dimension. He’d have to settle with just this for now. Leaning back in, he trailed his lips along your jawline, stopping to leave little pecks along the way. Pecks on your cheek, your nose, your forehead—anywhere he could reach without letting you go.

You couldn’t stop giggling, the light trail of his lips tickling your face. Your heart bloomed with a love for him that could last forever. He leaned away and gazed at you with loving eyes, taking in every little feature that made you who you are. The shape of your lips and how they fit perfectly between his. The curve of your nose as you dragged it across his jaw. The look in your eyes as you looked at him with a love that’s meant only for him.

The sun began peaking over the horizon, shining behind Miguel in blooming shades of yellow and orange. He was so beautiful; his vulnerability and care warmed your soul. He shined a light on your life and helped you learn to grow and to continue to grow together.

Your sun.

From his view, the dark shades of pink, purple, and blue colored the sky. The glittering stars only illuminated your presence in front of him. So pretty, so handsome. You were so perfectly flawed. To hold his heart so gently in fear that someone might come and hurt it. Not you, though; never you.

His moon.

To him, you provided the peace he needed to come to terms with. Someone to help ground him in the quiet hours of the night and show him that comfort was a calm feeling he should indulge in.

Fuck, you were just so—

"I..." he trailed, his throat closing in a nervous tremor. You hummed, urging him to continue as you trailed your fingers up to cup his face in your palms. "I want to be normal with you. Te amo, cariño."

You grinned, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

"I love you," you lilted, giving him another quick peck. "Let’s go be normal together."

So this is love.

{Hope you guys liked it! It's my first try at an x reader. I had two people check over my Spanish, but if there's something that's not right, please let me know!!}