#i just wanted to draw him in a scarf. But then i was like ... Sweater too..? sweater too. anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withmyloveasyourgarden · 1 month ago

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WHEREVER YOU RUN AND WHEREVER YOU HIDE

STEVE HARRINGTON x F!READER

A haunted house ride, so much pining and teasing, and a wild chase with Steve more than determined to catch you before the end. 6K of best friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

"What is it with you and haunted houses? Do you not think we visit enough creepy places?"

There was a scream from the attraction behind you as the boy spoke, a twisted cackle chasing at its heels and Steve glared when you snorted a laugh at the way he wrinkled his nose, hands shoved into his pockets as his eyes flickered to the house then back to yours once more.

You simply shrugged in response, a teasing grin tugging at your lips that just barely peeked out from behind the thick wool of your scarf. "What's the matter Harrington? Can take on Demogorgons and bats no problem but teenagers in fancy dress is where you draw the line?"

It went this way every year that the Halloween fair rolled into Hawkins. You would be drawn to the Haunted House in all of its cliche blood-splattered glory, neon lights flashing like a beacon, the zombies that crawled around the outside of the house and beckoned you with rotting hands outstretched to come closer.

And every year, Steve would pretend it was the worst thing in the world when you dragged him towards it, as if he was actually capable of denying you something you asked of him. Heels dug into the ground just enough that you had to work to get him there and a soft pout on the boy's face that melted into a fond smile, all indulgent and warm, the moment you weren't looking.

It was threatening to make an appearance now, even as he rolled his eyes, seemingly determined to ignore the fact he was already giving in by matching every step you took backwards in the direction of the ticket booth with one of his own towards you.

"S'real funny princess." He replied smoothly, a smirk on his pretty face and head cocked to the side as if he was forcing himself to think back to a memory that he would never admit was already seared into his brain. "Cause I could've sworn it was you hiding their face in my sweater last year, not the other way around."

"Hey! Not fair, you know I hate dolls."

You were trying your best to sound outraged, a voice full of faux-indignation that did nothing to make the boy appear apologetic. If anything he looked triumphant - the flash of the lights glinting off his steadily widening grin, eyes bright and too knowing.

Because you were all flushed skin where your knitwear couldn't hide, a gaze that couldn't fully keep his whilst you were remembering the way your best friend had wrapped you up in his body. Tucking your head into his chest, one arm tight around your shoulders and a large hand encompassing both of your smaller ones. His lips a gentle pressure against your hair as he promised, 's'okay babe, I'll tell you when it's over'

And just like when you'd clumsily pulled away back then, all shy and flustered, Steve was forced to try his hardest to bite his tongue again now. To swallow the fierce urge he had to tell you something stupid, like just how fucking pretty you looked and how he wanted nothing more than to kiss the heat from your cheeks.

Maybe even admit that holding you, regardless of how short it lasted, had made his entire night.

Instead he hides his feelings behind a tease as his larger step towards you caused you to fumble your step back. The heel of your shoe caught on a rogue stone and Steve's arms reaching out to steady you as your lower-back knocked into the blunt edge of the currently empty ticket booth.

"Easy there, princess." He cooed, eyes sparkling with mischief and his hands spanning your hips, thumbs crafting thoughtless circles over the fabric of your sweater that made the flesh beneath burn white hot. "Can't have you falling for me before I've even had the chance to play hero again."

You suddenly hated the fact that Steve was a solid wall of warmth - summer kept alive beneath his skin - hated the way it melted you and the autumn chill that had crept inside your bones. The inch left between your bodies seemed to spark with heat, making you forget how to snap back when he crowded you like this.

This was your best friend for fuck sake, and god , if he just leaned a little closer you were sure he would see right through you.

To the thoughts you had tumbling around your skull, every pesky little feeling you'd ever had for the boy written in neon flashing lights to match the ones that adorned the house behind you.

His lips twitched and he raised a brow at your lack of retort, smug and teasing, amused by his own cheesy joke and the way you gaped at him.

"Y'know what Harrington–" You attempted to bite out, determined to ignore how the words sounded like a struggle even to your own ears.

But then the tight grip of his hands was leaving your waist, drifting up to adjust the too large hat Eleven had knit for you that occasionally slipped a little far past your brow. His gaze softened a touch as he looked at it.

Remembering how proud you'd been when the girl had shown you her work, the way you lit up when you realised it was for you, eyes bright and just a touch glossy, before pulling her into the most adoring hug he thinks he'd ever seen.

Knowing if he hadn't already been in love with you then he would have fallen right then anyway.

Meanwhile, you couldn't help but stare whilst he righted it. It felt like you were bound in place, caught up in some type of spell that only the boy in front of you was capable of weaving, a heady kind of magic that flowed solely between the two of you.

You inhaled the scent of him, nose practically to his chest - the smell of crisp apple and something woodsy, the cinnamon sugar from the donuts you shared earlier still sweet on his breath - and grew dizzy with it, too warm when his fingers lingered longer than they should to toy with a lock of hair that fell out of place.

Heart thudding at the soft noise that escaped from the boy's parted lips all because you shivered at the gentle way he swept the strands behind your ear.

Shit - you hadn't been able to help it.

The touch had been light but no less gut-wrenching as it grazed your cheek and you realised too late that if your face didn't give you away, then surely the way your body reacted to him was about to.

He was close enough that he must have been able to hear the hitch of your breath despite the sounds that echoed from the ride, seen the way you swallowed hard as he watched you for what felt like an eternity before daring to lean a little closer.

"What?" He prompted, voice dropping low. Hoarse. Honey eyes burning a little darker as they flickered down for a beat before darting back up in a way that made you feel like Steve wanted something he didn't think he was supposed to ask for.

And then there was an awkward cough, sounding louder than it truly was, from behind you. The booth no longer unmanned as the attendant appeared to startle you both.

The interruption brought you back to reality and Steve stumbled back as you swatted at his chest. Raking a shaky hand through the windswept mess of his hair with a rough chuckle when you managed to choke out a far too delayed 'you fucking wish', before spinning to face the kid with your cheeks aflame.

You just hoped that neither they nor Steve paid notice to the way you had to clear your throat before you trusted yourself to speak again.

That they were oblivious to how your voice still cracked even then when you asked for two tickets and handed the money over with a sheepish 'thanks' . Ignoring the attendant's gaze that slid curiously between you and the boy at your back.

"That's just mean, you're breaking my heart here, babe." Steve sighed, trying to sound less affected than he felt, nerves still tight in his throat but the words were spoken so soft that you didn't seem to notice.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear when he felt brave enough to draw you into him once again, oblivious to the fact that you were still reeling."I let you drag me in here every year, use me as a human shield and this is the thanks I get?"

"I could leave you to the first thing that attacks us instead if you want? I've still not forgiven you for bringing the dolls up again." You shot back, biting your lip at the smooth confidence he used to turn you in his hold and sling an arm over your shoulders, steering you both towards the overly-cobwebbed entrance.

He scoffed, full of cheek as he prodded at your ribs."You wouldn't dare."

And you wanted to curse the fact that it wounded some part of you deep down, how easy it was for him to act like nothing had happened. Like it hadn't fazed him in the slightest that the two of you had been seconds from risking your friendship by closing that gap.

Thank fucking christ you hadn't.

"Just watch me." You threatened, huffing and squirming, slapping at his hand because the boy refused to relent once he managed to pull a reluctant smile out of you. "I might finally get some fucking peace."

He gave a wounded gasp at that, a kicked-puppy look to his eyes that was almost as dramatic as the betrayal that flashed through his pretty features when you finally had enough of pushy fingers in your sides and shoved him into the path of the closest zombie.

He tripped over his own feet in an effort to avoid them and swore. Much to the amusement of yourself and the actor, who upon seeing Steve come stumbling their way lunged the moment he got close enough, hands snatching for the boy and gore-slick teeth snapping shut just shy of his shoulder.

It brought a cackle from your lips when the zombie suddenly reeled back and pretended to gag, hacking like Steve had left a god awful taste in their mouth. There was laughter from some of the people that passed to go into the house, a couple of "ewww gross" that came from little kids who pulled at their parents' hands and pointed. Tiny faces scrunched up with a horrified kind of curiosity.

You gave a victorious grin at the stunned look on his face, one that seemed to flicker from disbelief to questioning whether he should be offended before he rounded on you with hair wild from the struggle and narrowed eyes. Shooting you a look that clearly told you you're in for it.

A smirk tugged at his lips, sly as your own grin fell, and when he spoke, you couldn't help the way it made you nervous. Your heart slamming up against the wall of your ribs, forceful enough that you were sure the boy would be able to hear it from where he stood.

"Oh princess, you're so fucking dead."

"Wait, no Steve - Stevie - c'mon don't, I'm sorry." You pleaded. It was all you could manage when he was looking at you the same way a predator watches its prey, slowly closing the distance with a large step forward that dwarfed the one you took back.

You had hoped the nickname would make him melt, tried to make your voice curl all sweet around it in the way that had always made Steve cave before.

But he only chuckled, tutting soft and full of taunt. "Nuh uh, you don't get to say my name like that after you fed me to a zombie and just expect me to forgive you. Better run before I decide to take a bite of my own."

Jesus fucking christ.

That shouldn't have made your lips part. It shouldn't have made you stare wide-eyed, breath caught in your throat and a bloom of warmth hitting your cheeks.

But, fuck , it did because Steve was prowling towards you with a careless hand running through his hair and a devilish look that somehow made him prettier than he already was, an unholy kind of handsome that made you want to drop to your knees at his feet.

Wasn't that a thought you didn't need in your head right now.

And so before he had the chance to tell that you were far more affected than you should be, undoubtedly able to see right through you like he always had, you decided to take his advice.

You turned heel and bolted.

There was a flood of smoke that surrounded you the moment you rushed through the door. Lights flashing candy-red and when you spared a glance at the heavy-framed portraits that adorned the walls whilst you ran, Steve's laugh and the heavy thud of his footsteps echoing behind you, it instantly gave you the eerie feeling of being watched.

The place was a maze of doors. Some that led to creatures who were ready to pounce the second you appeared, a werewolf in chains that clanked as it howled and clawed at the floorboards, a killer clown who cackled as they lunged forward, hacking at the air with a blood-soaked kitchen knife.

They all whooped and hollered when you raced past them, manic yells of taunts that followed you down another hallway, around another corner where you nearly crashed into a girl all in white, throat torn and eyes milk-pale as she blinked at you.

If you startled her she did a good job of not showing it, offering a simple warning that ' you can't run forever, the house always wins' before she drifted back to where she had previously been hidden, muttering and wailing as she went.

She was gone before you could reply that it wasn't the house you were really running from but in fact your best friend. And that the only reason you were running through the attraction instead of taking your time to enjoy it like you had paid to, was because you couldn't handle how you burned with Steve's hands on you and the way you still ached to kiss him with his fingers dug into your skin and his laughter in your hair.

So instead you had 'fed' him to a creature of the undead and hell, maybe it was a good job the girl had disappeared before you could blurt any of that out, because you definitely sounded crazy and the boy that was supposedly chasing you was nowhere to be seen.

It made you pause when you realised.

Had you lost him?

It didn't seem likely.

'Cause yeah, the attraction was like a labyrinth but Steve had navigated through much worse, much more disorientating places and faced things a lot scarier than a couple of kids in costumes because something or some circumstance had dared to separate the two of you.

And really, after all of that, what chance did a haunted house stand against Steve Harrington's relentlessness when it came to finding you?

It was why you stepped into the next room a little more warily, breath held and tiptoeing, cursing the floorboards that still groaned beneath your feet and you threw a suspicious gaze over your shoulder every now and again before quickly looking ahead once more.

This one was almost too dark, too creepy, lit only by the occasional flash of bright white that was supposed to be lightning coming from the shattered windows, strong gusts of air whistling through the cracked glass and made it seem like the room itself was groaning.

You swore if some psycho possessed doll came running at you from out of nowhere then you would kill Steve for not being here for you to hide behind. Whatever revenge he had planned for you be damned.

So when a hand smoothed over your head you were done. Over it. Prepared to run like hell the rest of the way out of this damn house because your throat burned from the embarrassing shriek you just let out, your cheeks hot, heart pounding, and there was still someone's spindly fingers petting at your hair.

Catching lightly at the ends when you spun just in time to barely make out the shadow of a chuckling figure skulking back into the corner.

An ichor-stained grin of razor-sharp teeth that split their whole lower face beneath their hood as the lightning cracked again and allowed you a split second of visibility to watch the mocking little wave they gave you.

At the end of the night you would adamantly say it was their fault for what followed.

Despite the fact that you should have known better than to take your mind off of Steve for more than a few minutes, that you don't enter through a new door without checking what lies beyond it at least once .

But instead, you kept your gaze on your creepy friend with the smile.

Ignored what could possibly be in the next room in favour of watching for any signs they would run for you as you fled. Daring them with narrowed eyes to stay where they were whilst you retreated and your hand fumbled behind your back for the doorknob, cheering quietly when you finally felt the cool shock of metal.

The door clicked with a taunting kind of finality when you got it shut. The type that left a silence you knew you couldn't trust in its wake, a beat of it passing, two, surprised when you turned and stared down the length of a hallway to what seemed like the exit at the end.

It wasn't what you had expected, gore and horror swapped for cobwebbed walls and rubber spiders and plastic bats with lopsided wings that hung from the ceiling. An antique grandfather clock and bookcases lining the room that were loaded with old tomes and trinkets.

The lights were softer than any of the previous rooms too, less pulsing neons and more steady waves of violet and midnight blue that, despite where you still were, instantly made you feel calm. Safer.

You should have known.

You'd seen all the horrors. Watched countless victims make the same mistake over and over because the fact usually was, if someone or something looked harmless, if escaping ever looked too easy? As simple as a straight run to the way out?

Chances were it was most definitely a trap.

But you weren't thinking about horror movies. Not when whilst you were standing there, someone from deeper inside the belly of the house screamed, a shrill sounding thing that was enough for you to shake your head, muttering a soft 'nope' before your feet started forward on their own accord.

And of course that was when it happened.

There was a swinging creak, a whoosh of cooler air. Two large hands catching at your waist and dragging you against a broad, warm body, your back flush to the person's front and just when you were about to scream they spoke. A lightly stubbled jaw scraping along your cheek as they dipped their head to whisper.

"Caught you, princess."

What the hell? Where did he even come fr-

A quick glance to the side answered that. A fake bookcase. A hidden door. The type of thing you really should have seen coming.

God, you'd been beaten by a total cliché.

It was enough to make you want to scream for a completely different reason, fear swiftly morphing to frustration, but then another question raised quickly in in place of the first and Steve must have sensed your confusion.

"Remember Michael Reid, the kid I helped coach that summer?" He murmured, a touch smug, like he never planned on letting you live this down. "He's working this part and let me swap in when I told him there was someone in here I needed to teach a lesson."

You swore then, quick and hushed under your breath, a sound that made the boy behind you snicker into hair, utterly entertained by your reaction.

His broad chest was a rumbling warmth at your back and you could fucking feel the way his lips tugged into a shit eating grin when he notched his chin at your crown.

"Jesus christ, Harrington, think you could have managed it without giving me a fuckin' heart attack? Get off me." You snapped, barely any heat behind it, because despite your words you were that little bit delighted to see him.

You were just also annoyed at yourself for losing, petulant that you'd known something was suspicious and yet still walked directly into your best friend's trap.

And Steve knew it. Utterly unfazed by your sharp tone and your attempts to fight him off, simply pressing the smile that he knew would get him in trouble to the back of your head whilst you wriggled in his hold.

You swatted at his arms that wound around your stomach, fingertips pinching at nothing but the thick wool of his coat sleeves before you sagged back with a defeated groan when he somehow managed to cling to you tighter. Rolling your eyes, lips twisted to hide a smile because Steve sounded far too pleased with himself already as he curled you into him.

"Aww c'mon don't be like that, didn't you miss me?" He tsked, laugh soft in his throat as he smacked his lips to your cheek in a quick, messy kiss, all charm and just a touch patronising whilst you huffed. "Bet it wasn't half as fun running around in there without me to hide behind."

"I don't know about that," You muttered but it was full of tease, mischief, and you knew that he had picked up on it the moment you shifted to the side so you could turn your face to look back at the boy. He dipped his chin to meet your gaze. Nose just shy of bumping yours and a brow raised like a dare."It was nice not having you screaming in my ear every time something touches your hair."

The effect was immediate.

Because Steve broke the hold he had on so fast that you would have fallen had it not been for the warm weight of his hands quickly reappearing on your hips, spinning you around until your chest bumped against his.

Until you were face to face, sharing the same breaths, his expression akin to something both amused and insulted. Like he just couldn't wait to argue this with you.

Hopefully, he wouldn't notice how your mind instantly went blank.

Because your best friend looked far too pretty up close, in this kind of light, softened by the faint purples and blues that slanted over the angles of his face, all wild hair curling at the edges from the heat inside the house and eyes near black in the dark.

Jesus, did he have to look so good all the damn time.

"You take that back." He demanded, his voice far too fond to hold any real threat but you still shook your head, both to clear it of the effect Steve Harrington had on you and also because you couldn't resist the need to provoke the boy. Just a little, just like you always had.

The way that both you and Steve would never admit to enjoying far too much.

"And if I don't?" You countered, hands pressed to his chest in a little shove and chin raised in playful defiance as you grinned. "What're you gonna do, zombie Steve, eat me? "

He stared, lips parted, cheeks a little pink, and made some kind of strangled noise before his grin reappeared, wolfish, voice scandalised. "Is that what you'd like? Want me to just eat you up right here? Never pictured you as the type, princess."

Steve watched with delight then as you blinked, nose scrunched up in confusion for just a few adorable seconds and then your mouth fell open into a pretty little 'o' that had his grin splitting wider, eyes shining. Endlessly amused when you choked out his name in admonishment and grew flustered.

"Not what I was talking about and you know it, Harrington." You spluttered.

He pulled you to him, chuckling, as you covered your face with your hands. But you went with no more resistance than a quiet grumble passing your lips, a soft little noise of embarrassment that always made Steve's chest go warm for you.

"S'not my fault you make it too easy." He shrugged, all feigned innocence, smiling too sweet as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

You snorted from where you were buried in his coat, the grin you couldn't help hidden as you let him shuffle you both back until you were no longer stood in the centre of the walkway, careful not to trip on a rubber rat or the edge of the threadbare rug whilst he kept you close.

And when the quiet was broken by a group spilling through the door, old classmates of yours and Steve's, you jumped and the boy gathered you a little closer than you thought possible, arms wrapping protectively around your shoulders before he realised they weren't some kind of danger and relaxed.

They were too caught up in the effects of the house, too busy pushing and shoving, winding each other up over who had screamed the loudest, to really pay attention to the two of you entwined. Steve pressed to the bookcase and you pressed tight to Steve, legs tangled.

And you were glad of their distraction when you recognised the voices, not really wanting to spend another year, or however long it took last time, with that familiar bitter taste in your mouth as you were forced to explain no, Steve and I aren't dating, no, there's really no chance of that changing and yes, we really just are best friends.

It sometimes made you wonder if they saw something you couldn't, what they saw at all when they watched the way the boy would blindly tug you into him whenever you appeared at his side, the way you'd fit yourself to him when he did, head resting lazily against his shoulder.

There'd be soft smiles on your faces from the moment you were joined and every time Steve said something to you he would make sure to look down, gaze all kinds of warm as it roamed your features.

A little like it was now when you drew back to peek up at him.

You, on the other hand, were still burning, cheeks hot and a nervous kind of energy thrumming in your chest and the way the boy was looking at you was decidedly not helping.

In fact, you were fully prepared to shove your face back into the soft wool of his scarf that smelled like him, attempting to cover the fact that you were trying to look anywhere but at your best friend because the image he had planted in your head refused to fucking leave .

But then Steve was refusing to let you go back into hiding, refusing to let you watch your hands twist and untwist in his lapels like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He curled his fingers beneath your chin before you could duck your head again, tipping your face up and keeping your gaze fixed on his.

It was a branding kind of touch, once that demanded every ounce of attention you could possibly give and you swallowed, throat tight.

"You're despicable, y'know that." You told him, blurted it out before you could make a fool of yourself staring at him any longer than you already had, a bit dumbfounded. Too stunned to function normally.

But it came out more breathless than you wanted, far less offended than you tried so hard to pretend and more like the situation had punched you straight in the chest. Broken ribs and true feelings spilling out through the cracks faster than you could hold them back.

You wanted to wince but Steve was already failing to bite back a smile that was all tease and charm. Moving a little closer as he angled away from the shelves that were digging into his back.

"M'sorry." He replied, sounding not very sorry at all, a little bit distracted because he couldn't stop his gaze from flickering down to your mouth. The hand that rested at your waist gave an absent-minded squeeze and he matched your shaky inhale when the pad of his thumb gently brushed the plush of your lower lip. "You're just so pretty when you get all flustered, couldn't help it."

It sounded like an admission rather than a taunt. And by the way that Steve's eyes suddenly darted back to yours, slightly wide with nerves, you had to wonder if it was a thought he maybe hadn't meant to voice.

But he had and now there was a rolling feeling in your chest, your stomach, like everything had flipped at the boy's words and you had to fight to stamp it all down, to keep your features completely neutral because what if it didn't actually mean what your silly little heart was hoping it did? It's not like Steve hadn't called you pretty before, right?

Just maybe not like this.

Not like it was something he'd spent time thinking about and wanted to do something about it.

You forced a chuckle, a last ditch attempt at making a joke so you could save yourself from saying something truly stupid. "You tryin' to say I'm not pretty all the time, Steven?"

"If you don't stop calling me that, we're gonna have another problem." He warned back, but his voice was warm and there was a spark in his eyes that looked like newfound bravery when he shook his head. His nose nudging yours before he cleared his throat. "And no, that's definitely not what I'm saying, sweetheart. You've always been too fuckin' pretty."

"Steve…"

There was muffled shouts that grew loud, that any other time would have been deafening when the door flung open once more, the sound of the wood smacking off the wall drowned out by voices and pounding footsteps as another group fled.

But the only thing you or Steve could see was each other, the way he was close enough that his breath fanned across your lips, tasting like sugar and Steve, the hint of mint underneath. The way your eyes had grown dark, a little wild with longing.

The house drifted away, the screams, the manic laughter, the blood and the cobwebs and the lights that bathed you both in a soft haze of violet and navy. All of it disappeared the moment Steve licked his lips, a nervous habit, whilst he pressed his thumb to the corner of your own and whispered.

"Made it real impossible to not do the whole 'falling for your best friend' thing, y'know."

He said it slow and soft, shyer than you'd ever seen him, eyes watching you carefully under the fringe of his lashes like he was praying he wasn't about to scare you away and shit , you thought, he really has no idea does he?

And you couldn't help it. You laughed.

Not unkindly, you could never, but a little strangled, a touch delirious because those words had set off a thousand fireworks in your chest and the feeling was so overwhelming, fizzing beneath your ribs, that it felt like it should have been a fever dream.

Which would make sense. Because you had always been so sure that that would be the only way you would ever hear Steve say that he was in love with you.

But no, this was real, and so was the faintly crushed look on Steve's face as he watched you laugh, completely misunderstanding, misinterpreting your disbelief for rejection and you quickly realised your mistake when he made to pull back.

"Forget I said anything -" He began, swallowing hard, throat bobbing as he tried to mask the hurt and the words fell out of your mouth faster than your brain could keep up with, panic laced and frantic.

"No - fuck , Steve- wait -" you begged, hands scrambling for his collar, for Steve's own hand that was slowly about to drop from your face and the boy stilled when you grabbed it and pressed it to your cheek, cradled within your own. A hesitant kind of hope in his eyes as you took a breath. "I wasn't laughing at you I swear, it's just, god , you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words from you and then you said them and I just -"

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you waited?" Steve repeated, a slow magic kind of grin appearing on his face that made your heart flip, your pulse doing its best impression of a hummingbird's heartbeat as he moved into you, a hand splayed at your back and his thumb stroking sweet arcs over your cheekbone. "Need to know how much making up I've got to do for being such an idiot and being too scared to tell you how I felt sooner."

You laughed again, a little softer this time, a shade embarrassed because you had loved the boy in front of you for longer than you could remember and it felt crazy that after hiding it for so many years, you were finally about to tell him.

"Oh y'know," you shrugged, fingers toying with the fabric of his scarf at the nape of his neck, hand sliding from its place atop of his to gently grasp his wrist. It was impossible to resist the smile that tugged at your lips as he leaned to touch his forehead to yours, eyes sparkling as he waited. "Not long, maybe ten years or so."

If Steve was surprised he didn't show it, instead he looked at you like he understood completely. Like he knew himself how it felt to love your best friend that��long.

But still he let out a low whistle under his breath, trying to sound as serious as he could despite the way his cheeks had grown sore with the smile that lit his face. His heart misbehaving in his chest as he cupped your jaw.

"That's a long time to make up for." He mused, voice hushed as he tilted his head, his mouth almost brushing yours as he spoke.

The anticipation made you feel like you were going to implode. Electric beneath your skin.

"It is." You agreed, just as quiet, curling a hand around his neck and leaning a little heavier against him because you suddenly felt far too unsteady. "What are you going to do about it?"

His breath hitched a little at your soft-spoken challenge but still he couldn't resist a final tease. "You askin' me to kiss you for the first time in a haunted house?" He tsked. "I know you love them but if you think we're comin' back here every year for our anniversary-"

"Harrington?"

"Yeah, princess?"

"Shut up and kiss me" You huffed, smile fond, sighing against the boy's mouth when he gave a breathtaking grin and did just that.

It was a gentle push of his lips to yours, a sweet, warm, languid thing that pulled a soft noise from your throat and made your chest feel like it was gonna burst because your best friend was kissing you like you were the most precious thing in his life, like he'd waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted you to know he'd happily spend another just like this.

He gripped you a little firmer as you melted into him, a golden feeling fizzing in his belly and a lovesick kind of smile on his lips when you murmured something sweet and pushed up on your toes for more. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling, tugging, and when you licked softly at his bottom lip to ask him to open for you, the boy gifted you with a low, quiet groan before giving you what you wanted.

The sound was enough to make you feel drunk, dizzy on the way his tongue slid against yours and that Steve got greedier, a little messier, the instant you gently nipped at him. His hand fused to your jaw and your own name pressed into your mouth on a hitched breath as he kissed you over and over and over.

And when you finally parted, it was with glassy-eyed looks, kiss swollen lips and heaving chests. Disgustingly sweet grins that didn't even falter when another group came barreling through and reminded the two of you, quite ear-splittingly, that you were still very much inside of an attraction.

Instead Steve chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your nose, another two to both your cheeks whilst he pushed away from the bookshelf and wrapped both arms around you to spin you in a crushing hug.

"Steve put me down!" You laughed, a bright burst that made the boy light up even more and when you finally got away, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he stole your heart all over again with the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen.

A hand reaching out for you to place your own in as he asked. "Wanna get out of here? Maybe find somewhere a little less creepy where we can talk and make some more of that time up?"

And how on earth could you say no to that? To Steve and the way he was looking at you, slightly shy, like his lips weren't still glossy from your kisses.

You couldn't. Never had been able to if you were honest.

So you placed your hand in his, heart fluttering when he smiled soft at the way your fingers so easily entwined, and let him lead you to the exit. To something new, to something far more exciting than any haunted house could ever be.

Taglist: @the-witty-pen-name

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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l0standn0tf0und · 1 month ago

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Remus John Lupin headcanons pt.2

pt.1

@hedonisticeiram I think I did my worst of the worst

TW: a lot of angst, mentions of smoking, food, grief, self-loathing, survivor’s guilt, loneliness, depression, self-destructive thoughts, trauma, and references to suicidal ideation.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who blushes furiously when complimented, always brushes it off with a joke.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who can never turn down a chess game.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who skips meals in the Great Hall after full moons. He can’t stand the startle on first years' faces and the way they glance at his hands, limp, and scars but avoid his eyes.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who always smiles wildly, even though he tries not to, when the wooden door swings open and Prongs bursts into the dorm, filling the space around with laughter, Pete barely holding back a giggle as he struggles with a mouthful of pumpkin pasties, followed by Sirius, grinning ear to ear with a teetering plate piled high with food they brought for him, as they always did when Remus couldn’t bring himself to join them at the Great Hall.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets to eat for days. He tells himself he’s just too busy, but deep down, he thinks his body isn’t worth the effort. And even deeper down he hopes the door will open again, and the space will be filled with laughter.

Remus "Nothing will come between me and my cigarette" Lupin, who always has a bar of chocolate with him.

Remus "Nothing will come between me and my chocolate" Lupin, who always has a pack of cigarettes with him.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who secretly loves bad romance novels—the ones with absurd plots and too-perfect endings.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who loves thunderstorms. The steady drumming of rain against the window is one of the few things that truly calms him.

Remus John Lupin who hates thunderstorms. The lightning dragging him back to the flashes of curses during battles.

Remus John Lupin, who skips his own birthdays, because it feels like celebrating another year of survival.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who saves every handwritten note and letter. Even the smallest ones, like James's quick scrawl, "We're waiting for you at dinner!".

Remus John Lupin, who skips Christmas Eve, because he sees no point in celebrating without the people who once filled his world with light.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who treasures every gift he’s ever received. A now-broken quill from Lily, a mixtape from Sirius, a poorly drawn doodle from Marlene.

Remus John Lupin, who locks himself in his room on any other holiday, lights a cigarette, and looks through old photos, tracing faces that feel both painfully close and unbearably far, until he cries himself to sleep.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who has all memorable trinkets tucked away in a box he opens on bad days to remind himself he is loved.

Remus John Lupin, who has all old trinkets tucked away in a weathered box he opens on bad days to remind himself he was loved.

Remus "The prefect" Lupin.

And "Moony, our prefect" for first-years whose fear melting into familiarity as they grow used to the scars.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who counts every scar and bloody bite on his body.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who wears his friends’ clothes without asking. He throws on James’s jacket or Black’s fancy-schmancy scarf like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because "if you don't want me to take your staff, stop throwing it all over our dorm"

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who can’t look at the moon. Even when it’s not full, it's a constant reminder of what’s coming. It feels oppressive.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who loves autumn. The crisp air, the changing leaves, the excuse to wear his coziest sweaters, and hours of walking through the backyard, breathing in the smell of damp earth and fallen leaves.

Remus John Lupin, who'd better look at the moon and think what a horrifying beast he is, than has his mind free for thoughts about his friends that always find their way to come up and draw him to the depth of countless what-ifs

Remus "I don't need a wand, I just need my hands" Lupin. And it relates to everything, from broken stool, to someone's broken nose.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who prefers morning tea instead of coffee. Because it’s gentler on his frayed nerves, but the truth is that he loves the quiet ritual of brewing it. Sirius teases him for being an old man when he insists on the perfect steep time.

Remus John Lupin, who drinks coffee. Only coffee. Because he doesn't want to hear "you're such a grandpa", but in his head now.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who always ends up with ink stains on his hands, no matter how careful he is.

Remus John Lupin, who writes letters he never sends. Letters to James, Lily, Peter, and Sirius.

Especially to Sirius.

Remus John Lupin, who writes to Sirius in Azkaban.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he folds his letter. A faint, wistful smile softening scars on his face.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he carefully tucks the letter into an envelope. He writes to his old dearest friend.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he seals an envelope with dark red wax. He feels relieved after sharing his burden with the closest person.

Remus John Lupin, who knows Sirius will never see the letters, knows he’ll never get a response, because he'll never send them. But he writes anyway. He needs to take a break, at least for a few moments to pretend that nothing happened. That everything is fine. That he is fine. So he writes, pouring out everything he’s too afraid to say aloud. He writes, pouring out everything, fears, griefs, and confessions he has no one to say.

Remus John Lupin, whose fragile moment of peace ends with the weight of endless loneliness returning heavily to his shoulders as he watches the letter curl, blacken and turn to ashes in the fireplace flame.

Remus John Lupin, who still wears mismatched socks. He finds it funny. The tiny bit of chaos that still draws a faint, fleeting smile to his face.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who never leaves without a book in his bag. No matter where he’s headed, there’s always a novel tucked away, just in case he finds a quiet moment to read.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who presses wildflowers between the pages of his books.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who has the warmest hugs.

Remus John Lupin, who has the warmest hugs.

Remus John Lupin, who can’t forgive himself. For being bitten, for every time he’s let the wolf take control, for each scar that mars his skin, for not seeing the traitor, for the danger he didn’t stop. He should have known. Should have acted. Should have saved them.

Remus John Lupin, who can’t forgive himself for surviving when others didn’t.

Remus John Lupin, who hates the sound of his own heartbeat.

Remus John Lupin, who wishes he had died with the rest of them.

masterpost

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with-my-calamitous-love · 2 months ago

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I’LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERIN’ IF YOU KNEW…

touya todoroki x reader

you first met touya in winter. similarly, you fell in love and said goodbye in winter. now when the snow falls, he thinks of you.

part 1/2

inspired by enchanted

there he was again, early morning. sekoto peak on a brisk, winter evening. just shy of 8 years old, with fire blazing valiantly.

around others, he’s used to forcing laughter and faking his smiles. he hides that inter turmoil well, determined to carry the mantel of endeavour’s firstborn son. but just because he carries it well, doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy.

he’s in this same old tired, lonely place. the trees act as walls on insincerity, isolating him on this hill. his flames are controlled, ignoring that slight pain he feels in his palms when the red and oranges shoot out from his hands. the winter chill helps to keep him cool. he doesn’t need a jacket, anyway.

the snow drowns out most noises, as do most winter days. but he still catches the sound of soft, padding footsteps crunching in the snow.

all of what he’s feeling vanishes when he sees your face.

its rare, seeing someone his age. two kids, shy and precocious in the middle of winter. he’s the first to speak.

“…what are you doing out here?”

“i could ask you the same thing.”

kids are brats.

he huffs, his breath visible in the contrast to the cool air. “well, i asked you first.”

“going for a walk.” you hum, moving closer to him. you take not of the several burns on the trees, black and withered.

you can’t help but notice his lack of a jacket, though he seems unbothered by it. you’re here, mittens, jacket and scarf keeping you warm, while he’s in nothing but a thin sweater. “aren’t you… y’know, cold?”

he smiles, proud. “no. i have my fire.”

and he’s proud to have it, even if it will inevitably kill him.

but you two are kids, and neither of you know that. in your childhood brains, the only thing that matters is whats in front or you. so you spend the rest of the day chatting, walking around the seemingly enchanted forest. snowball fights turn into snowmen, and eventually graduates into laying in the snow, making snow angels.

“i like winter.” you hum, staring up at the snow tricking onto your face. “most people hate it. they think its cold, and wet, and dark.”

touya stopped moving for a second. he hummed and considered your words. he had heard people he knew in the past speak like that, namely his younger siblings that craved warmth.

"maybe they just don’t like snow." he says quietly, shrugging while drawing random lines in the snow. "you like it, though?"

you nod.

“for all its coldness, theres tenderness in winter to. the sky is light and pink when it snows at night. its quiet, and still.”

theres a certain secrecy to this moment that he feels when he hears your words. childhood friendship is a precious thing, something you never get back. the heroes and the villains of the world don’t matter, and anything important is reserved for a later time. right now, blanketed by snow, touya made one true friend. how enchanted he was to meet you.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

years pass, and you and touya are thrust into adolescence. his hair has changed, now a frosted white that matches the current season. you’re walking home from school together, though he’s got his hands shoved in his pocket like a little kid. not because he’s cold, but because he’s frustrated.

he’s taking his time, pacing back and forth. he almost doesn’t want to return home. thinking about it makes him clench his fists, the annoyance he felt quickly morphing into anger. when he’d come home, he’d be met with all that pain, all over again. the thought of his father focusing all his energy and attention on his little brother, all because touya wasn’t "good enough" to be his successor, was haunting. its what kept him up at night.

“it’s just not fair.” he mutters, and you instantly know what he’s referring to. “all that work… for what? he doesn’t even know i exist.”

words fail at times like this. you could tell him that its not true, but it is. you could tell him not to care, but he still will. you could tell him that you love him… but would he listen?

so instead, you opt to hold his hand. your fingers are cold against his naturally warm ones. you pretend not to notice the rough texture of his palms, evidence of his training.

the snow begins to trickle down again, falling like a crown on your head. tonight, you’re sparkling, and he doesn’t want to let you go. turquoise eyes look at you, wonderstruck as your nose begins to turn that winterish shade of pink. he almost blushes when he sees you tightening your scarf, forgetting he’s supposed to take you home.

“i just,” you sigh, taking both his hands in yours so you can both see the damage beginning to fester on his skin. “i don’t know. i don’t want you training too hard. it’s hurting you, i can tell.”

“i-its not.” he lies, breath visible in the winter air. he tries his best to hide the wince in his eye when you rub your thumbs up and down the burns on his hands.

“i just… i don’t wanna lose you.” you say.

he doesn’t wanna lose this either. you, and him, standing in the winter. he prays that this is the first page, that this is only the first of many winters he hopes to have with you.

“you won’t.” he smiles. “i promise.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

you learn about the accident not through the news, or through his family, but rather through seeing the eruption of blue flames on the hill where you two met.

at first, you cried every day. you prayed that he’d wake up, that this isn’t where the story line ends. seeing him laying there, as the years go on, and as the snow falls inevitably, felt unreal.

its been a lonely 3 years without his sassy remarks and his warm hands. you can still feel that warmth, even in his coma. you hold his hands as his body lays there, the only indicator of his survival the beeps of the heart monitor.

his burns are so much more apparent now almost purple against his pale, snowy skin. he doesn’t know it, but you’ve visited him everyday since he first arrived. through every summer, spring, autumn through every god damn winter, you’ve been here.

you’d whisper things he’d never hear, eyes occasionally wandering to the snow falling outside the winter. its a reminder of how much time has passed, how much you’ve lost without him.

and though you don’t know it, he’s mourning it as well. he’s forced to hold back his words, like he’s leaving too soon.

selfishly, he hopes that in these three years, you haven’t fallen in love with someone else. that you don’t have someone else waiting on you when you leave.

its the opposite, actually. you don’t have anyone waiting on you, when you’re waiting on touya to come back.

normally, you’re alone in his room. so you almost don’t catch when the door opens and closes behind you. at first, you think its just a nurse checking in. but the silence makes you turn your head.

shes got the same hair as touya, snowy white. but her eyes are this grey color that you can tell once sparkled. shes just as confused as you are, even when you stand up from your chair but still continue to hold touya’s hand.

“i-i.. sorry. i’m just visiting.” you say, like you’ve committed a crime. you haven’t done anything wrong.

she shakes her head, taking a few steps closer and assuring you its okay. the fact that you’re so close to her son, holding his hand isn’t lost on her.

theres words she wants to say as well, words that fall on deaf ears. you wonder why its only her visiting.

“i’m sorry, dear.. who are you?” she brakes the silence, realizing she isn’t actually sure who you are. how would she know anyway?

“i’m his friend.” you say, quietly. “[y/n].”

she nods, though she wonders how she didn’t know that. her first son, the first love of her life, had a friend close enough to visit and hold his hand even through this period of winter.

if anything, she’s grateful for it.

theres a few more beats of silence, before she speaks again. her voice is quiet, but her pain speaks volumes.

“i tried to stop him.” she says, staring at her son. “i… i didn’t want this.”

its enough to bring tears to your eyes, nodding understandably. “me too.”

and theres that moment of understanding between the two of you. like snowflakes falling onto the same patch of ground, you both knew that this was inevitable. eventually, touya’s fire would consume him. eventually, he’d burn too.

theres nothing you two can say to make this better. so you sit there in comfort, winter silence before eventually saying goodnight.

you leave, quietly accepting that you’ll be all alone.

and the next day, he wakes up.

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zayneslady · 11 months ago

Note

Hickey prank on LDS boys

warnings: fluff, pranks, someone nearly cries but all good in the end. Someone is a bit suggestive, but nothing explicit.

characters: Zayn, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: at first I wasn't sure how to write kdkdf I hope you guys like it though! Also thank you so much for being so supportive of me I love you all 💕💕💕💕

Classification: scenarios

Zayne ❄️

You couldn't help but giggle quietly to yourself as you made your way to his office. You made sure to cover your neck appropriately as you entered the hospital and greeted some familiar faces. This was possibly one of the dumbest jokes you had ever come up with, what kind of expression would Zayne make when he saw a hickey on your neck?

He was a meticulous man, he always tried to leave marks where no one could see them, he knew that it was not appropriate for other people to see them and, although he wanted to mark you as his, he more than anything respected you.

So what would he say when he saw a hickey in a place he would never leave it?

“Are you going to stand there until I open the door for you?" You jumped in surprise when the door suddenly opened and Zayne appeared in front of you, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk playing on his lips.

You pouted, “hello to you too, Dr. Zayne.”

He chuckled quietly, grabbing your hand and kissing your palm. “Hello. Come in.”

He let you in and closed the door behind him. You unceremoniously dragged a chair next to his and sat beside him, making him roll his eyes warmly as he sat himself and went to work right away. Zayne. He seemed especially busy that day; you bit your lip to hide a smile as you removed your scarf with a huff.

“Your office is a little hot, Zayne. Are not you hot?"

“No. The temperature is just right," he raised his face and your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you. "In any case, aren't you covered up too much?"

You pulled the collar of your shirt as much as possible to show the hickey you had painted on yourself, but Zayne didn't seem to notice.

“It's cold outside, Dr. Zayne and I don't see a jacket here? Did you come only with your sweater? It's going to be colder la-

He put his thumb in his mouth and licked it lightly as he leaned closer to you. Your breathing stopped as he lifted your chin with his other hand to look at your neck.

You blushed slightly. "Z-Zayne... I'm so sorry, I didn't-

You jumped as you felt his thumb against your skin. And without further ado, he smudged the hickey with his thumb.

“Sorry,” he said, lowering your chin to look at you. The mischievous little smirk on his lips made you nervous. “You had something on your neck,” he said, and after a breath, he moved closer to your ear. "Next time you try to prank me…,” he whispered, lips brushing against the sensitive skin, making you shiver, "... you could work a little harder on your little drawings. I am a doctor. I can perfectly tell a bruise from a little paint stain. Nice try, princess." He kissed your neck, biting in it gently.

You sighed, “you are no fun.”

Zayne chuckled against your skin. "Maybe I should give you a real one as reference?"

"N-No, Zayne. I'm sorry, I- ngh! S-Someone will hear us!”

“Not if you're a quiet good girl.”

You should've known better.

Rafayel 🐠

It was all Rafayel's fault. He always made stupid comments about other people to make you jealous. Obviously you had to get revenge somehow to shut up his big mouth.

The mark on your neck was subtle and you thought it looked like the real thing. Perfect. It wasn't long before Rafayel arrived from his errands. As soon as he walked through the door, your neck was going to be in plain view with that little hickey that he was going to know immediately that he didn't do it.

Hehehe. The perfect plan!

Your heart raced when you hear the beeps outside the door. He was here!

“Ugh, I'm tired!” He said as soon as he entered the house. “I hate running errands.”

“Welcome back, Rafayel!” You said excitedly. “How did it go?”

“I'm back… it was alright. I just didn't- is that a hickey?”

You gasped, covering the hickey with your hand. “Fuck. I forgot to cover it…”

“Cover it? Why would you? Didn't I- wait… are you cheating on me?”

You got up from your spot on the sofa. “I'm so sorry, Rafayel! It's just… you were away and I-

He sighed, “I can't believe you,” he rubbed his face. He really looked angry. “So you're saying everytime I was away you were having affairs? I won't tolerate this. Look, I'll be out for a while, plenty time for you to grab your stuff and leave. I don't want to see you here anymore.”

Your eyes widened. This was not part of the plan! Rafayel walked out the door and you couldn't move or speak. You had ruined it! Panting, you finally found strength and ran towards the door.

“No, Rafayel! Wait please this is not what it seems!” You opened the door and collapsed against his chest. Breathlessly looking up at him, he was grinning mischievously.

“Do you really think I'd fall on your little tricks? Don't be silly. You can't prank me!” You blinked and little tears blurred your vision as you wrapped your arms around his waist and hid your face against his chest.

He chuckled, “there, there. Maybe next time you won't do something silly like this, hmm?”

You shook your head. Definitely never again.

Xavier ⭐

As you perfected the small spot on your neck, you couldn't help but think that maybe you were doing a little wrong. Poor Xavier, he hasn't even woken up and you were already thinking of pranking him… but he was always so serious, you wanted to see the kind of face he would make when he saw that there was a hickey on your neck.

He wasn't one to mark you (on the contrary, he liked it better when you marked him), so he was definitely going to be surprised. You jumped a little when you heard his footsteps in the room and you quickly went to the kitchen to make coffee. As if attracted by the smell, Xavier appeared in the kitchen in an instant and you turned around with a steaming cup of coffee in your hands.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greeted him with a bright smile.

“Good morn-

His arms that were reaching out to hug you froze halfway while his eyes fell on your neck. You tried not to smile as you covered the area.

“X-Xav… I can explain it. It's just that-

“Why are you cheating on me? Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “You didn't do anything, it's just… this person was really pretty and you know how you were away on your mission? I just - Xavier, are you crying?”

His eyes became glassy and, although no tears were running down his cheeks, you could see those salty droplets gathering at the bottom edge of his eyes. You didn't know how, but in a second you put the cup aside and your arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"It was a joke," you murmured tearfully. "Look, it's makeup," you said, only removing your hand to rub the mark on your neck and make it disappear. “I'm sorry. That was stupid, wasn't it? I didn't think it would hurt you so much, I'm so sorry.”

He listened to you carefully and gently touched the skin of your neck. Then he let out a small giggle.

“I see… it is a little fun, but please don't do anything like this again.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I won't. I promise.”

#love & deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #love & deepsace x reader #*scenarios #zayneslady

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 months ago

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Day 19: yarn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Upon arriving at the building, the first thing Spencer encountered was a figure skillfully moving their hands, sitting in a lotus position, hunched over the sofa in the common area of the apartments.

The man was renting that apartment. Most of those who rented in that place were young people, some studying at university and others simply too comfortable to find something better. You, however, did not fall into either of those categories.

You were the niece of the elderly landlord and apparently lived with her after some unpleasant family situations. That’s why you were usually around, and seeing you knit had become a habit of his.

“Hello”

“Hi, Spencer! How have you been?” you asked, with a cheerful expression on your face. You weren’t wearing shoes, and there was a basket with a bunch of yarn on the floor, from which you were probably taking for whatever garment you were making.

“Good, a bit… busy, but everything has been fine.”

“I heard that the other day you helped my aunt with some plumbing work that needed doing. I didn’t know you had that kind of knowledge.”

“It was something very basic, nothing out of this world,” he murmured, trying to be modest. “What are you knitting?”

Spencer wasn’t used to talking much with the other tenants, perhaps out of shyness or perhaps because he didn’t want to interact with people in general. But with you, it was different; you always seemed interested in what he said and often showed yourself to be friendly. That’s why he didn’t mind sitting on the other sofa for a while.

“A blouse; I have a rough idea…” you carefully pulled out a simple handmade drawing from the basket and held it out to him. “I still don’t know if those will be the colors; I’m deciding.”

“How do you have so much time to do that?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Knitting isn’t that hard once you get used to it. It’s all about following patterns, and before you know it, you have something solid to wear.”

You carefully approached him and developed quite an informative chat about the types of stitches, needles, yarn, colors, thickness… you were quite the expert on the subject.

He didn’t know there was so much to know to carry out such an activity, and suddenly, he felt a certain admiration for your work. He was known for his clumsiness when it came to motor skills, so conceiving the idea of being able to do that was something extremely strange for him.

Suddenly, you took out your phone to show him some other pieces you had made: sweaters, blouses, scarves, mittens, hats, dresses…

“Have you ever considered selling your work? They’re beautiful.”

“Oh, no. It’s too personal, you know? That’s why I only knit for myself, my family, and friends.”

“Well, you’re very skilled, to be honest. If you made custom pieces, I’d definitely buy one.”

“What do you like most?” you asked excitedly, moving closer to him “Sweaters? Vests? A scarf, maybe?”

“No! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was just an idea. Don’t worry about it,” he murmured immediately, trying to dismiss the thought from your mind.

However, you were already plotting a plan. You knew from your aunt that his birthday was coming soon, and you thought: what could be better than giving him something?

Although you pretended to let the matter pass, you continued seriously considering what would be the most suitable gift to knit for your friend. Because you were friends, right? You hoped so.

You both continued talking about trivialities after that, and you continued with your work as the conversation flowed. You clearly knew he couldn’t stay with you all afternoon, so when he told you he had to leave to fulfill other obligations, you thanked him for the time he had given you.

From that day on, you kept mulling over the idea of what could be the ideal gift for your aunt’s tenant. For several days, you tried to come up with a pattern, something good enough that would match his personality until you finally hit upon it. You were going to make him a collection of gifts, in fact, simply for the excitement of having someone admire your work so much. Besides, he had suggested it, and of course, you were going to stick to your rule: you only knitted for yourself, family, and friends.

Spencer went weeks without seeing you. He felt somewhat worried about your absence but assumed you were busy with your own life, not daring to ask your landlord about your whereabouts. Sometimes he saw the light in your room late at night and wondered what you might be doing, but he would never commit the imprudence of knocking on your door to look for you. That would be inappropriate because, while you weren’t a child or anything, he was a couple of years older than you, and the idea of someone getting the wrong impression worried him greatly.

He couldn’t see you on his birthday, and he didn’t expect you to know (he hadn’t told anyone in the building, as far as he remembered), but he thought it would have been nice to have your company.

It wasn’t until a week later that Spencer had a clue about you when a note with something he recognized as your handwriting slid under his door.

Come to the living room :)

He was confused by the invitation, which was very unconventional, so he prepared to go where you were asking him. Once there, he was surprised to find you with a huge smile, a piece of cake with a lit candle, and a large box on the coffee table.

“Surprise!”

“How do you know?” he asked, slightly confused but also touched by the show of affection.

“I know it was last week, but your gift wasn’t ready yet, and you weren’t here for your cases, and… well, you know. It’s late, but I hope you like it. Come on! Come, sit down.”

You offered him the plate with the piece of dessert, and he happily blew out the small candle burning on it. After applauding that, you patted the box in front of him and brought it closer.

“Did you buy me a gift?” he asked kindly as he sat down next to you.

The box was nothing more than a cardboard box, with no decoration or flashy papers. It was just a plain, brown, large box.

“Open it and find out.”

You looked anxious for him to see the contents, and he had no heart to refuse your excitement. When he opened it, however, he was surprised by something greater than he expected.

Inside were only knitted items: some strange-colored squares (which he would ask you about) and underneath what seemed to be a beautiful brown cardigan with a beige trim and another shade of brown. When he took it out, he was completely moved by the beauty of the garment and smiled widely when he felt the softness of the yarn.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

“I also made you some covers for your books, or your planner, or any notebook you want,” you exclaimed excitedly. Oh, so that’s what the squares were for “Try it on! Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he finally said, genuinely excited. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I told you, I only knit for people I care about.”

Spencer felt extremely honored by the distinction, and for a second, he also felt embarrassed. He didn’t know you considered him a friend at that level and wished he had something to give you too, even though it was his birthday.

He complied with your request and put the piece over his plaid shirt. It fit perfectly, was quite warm, and matched him very well. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say, stunned by your attention toward him and your personal gift. You had spent weeks knitting that just for him.

“And there’s one more thing,” you pointed out with a smile, and he peered inside.

It was true; there was a pair of socks. But they weren’t ordinary socks; they were knitted in the same way and had a particularity that made him burst into laughter.

“They’re mismatched!”

“I know you wear them like that. So I thought you’d like them,” you murmured, smiling.

You looked so kind and lovely that Spencer couldn’t help but want to hug you, feeling grateful for what you had just gifted him.

“Let me pay you for your work.”

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, sounding offended. “It’s a gift, Spencer. Gifts aren’t for sale. Happy late birthday!”

He didn’t expect something like that from you, and just for that, he felt even happier. Throughout the winter season, he made sure to wear your cardigan as much as he could, proud to recount that you had knitted it every time someone complimented the design.

At some point during the winter, he realized that, both literally and figuratively, you had brought unparalleled warmth to his life. First with that cardigan, and of course, then with your friendship.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Just Friends: Autumn Daze

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After the trainwreck of your efforts, you’re deflated. You can say you’re disappointed that it didn’t work out, but more so, you’re just disappointed in Bucky. The more you think about his behaviour that night, the worse you feel.

And not just let down. You a bit miffed by it all. He even asked what was wrong after? All after he treated the whole thing like you were forcing him to go to the dentist. You didn’t bring Sam to upset him, you thought it would be good to show support for Bucky, to get him back out here.

Well, now you get it, he doesn’t want that. And that’s okay. But he could have said so earlier. He didn’t need to embarrass you.

Then your guilt overwhelms everything else. Maybe you just didn’t listen. Maybe you’re a bad friend. It’s all cloudy and confusing.

So, you let his messages go unread. You’re not ready to talk. You need to sort this all out. You need to sort yourself out. The nagging insecurity rears its hideous head; you don’t deserve a friend like Bucky.

He's too cool for you. You’re too lame. He can go out and do anything he wants. He saves the world for a living and you dress up like movie characters and serve meatloaf. How the heck did he even stick around this long?

That must be it. Bucky doesn’t trust your taste. Charlize might be charming and sleek, but if she’s your friend, she can’t be on his level.

No, no, no. You’re spiraling. Why? He didn’t say any of that. You’re making it up.

You shake off the doubt as best you can and finish swiffering the kitchen tile. It’s not much. About three feet of floorspace between the two parallel counters. The apartment is so small, it doesn’t take very long to do the floors, and yet, it’s always cluttered because it can’t fit all your stupid stuffies and collectibles.

Grow up. That’s what you should do.

The buzzer curtails another plummet into self-pity. You huff. If it’s that guy asking for whoever Gerald is again, you’re going to lost it. You tap the button.

“’Lo?” You grip the handle of the swiffer.

“Dreamy? Hey. You’re home,” Bucky’s grizzly timbre sounds crackly through the aged speaker. You let go of the button and sigh again. You press down.

“Hi, what’s going on?” You ask.

He snorts, “Dreamy? Nothing. Just... I wanted to ask you something. You haven’t been answering so I got worried.”

“Oh, right,” you utter dully. “I’ve been cleaning.”

“All week?” He challenges.

“Work,” you say flatly.

“Right, makes sense,” he says. “Well... can I come up? I got something real important to ask you.”

You hesitate. You’re not really in the mind or condition to receive him. You have a scarf over your hair and a loose Tazmanian Devil shirt hanging off of you, matched by a pair of leggings patterned with groovy flowers. You look like a thrift store sneezed.

“Okay.”

You push the other button to let him in. You know you should draw firmer lines but there’s no good reason to ghost him. You don’t really want to lose him as a friend. It’s just you getting in your head.

You unlock the door and switch the swiffer for the broom. As you sweep up the dust, the door opens. You go to your phone and turn down the music playing on your small pink speaker. You glance over at Bucky as he stands on the mop and wears an amused expression.

“You look...”

“Don’t. I’m cleaning,” you pout. You tilt your head at the orange shape under his arm. And the rest of him.

Under his leather jacket, there’s a hint of orange and black. He’s wearing a very fuzzy looking sweater. That’s not really his style. On top of that, he has a coffee cup in hand. He hates those fancy shmancy places.

“So, I guess you weren’t just in the area,” you still the broom completely.

“Well, I thought you might be interested in a little road trip.” He frees the orange ball from under his arm and presents the stuffed pumpkin with the goofy smiley face and arms and legs. “There’s a pumpkin patch about an hour out.”

“A pumpkin patch?” Your lips slant.

“And I stayed on theme. Pumpkin vanilla latte,” he wiggles the cup slightly.

“You’re bribing me?”

“Is it a bribe when I know you want to go?” He jibes.

You look between the pumpkin and the cup. He’s really playing with you. Are you so weak?

“Alright, but I need to get changed,” you say. You lean the broom in the corner and cross to him. He holds out the stuffy. “I’m going to call him...” you hum and think, “Pumple Stilskin.”

“Oh god, you’re so weird,” he says.

“And yet here you are,” you stick your tongue out.

Your chest knots but you feel a bit better than before. It’s good. It’s not as bad as you think, yet you can’t be entirely excited. There’s something else. Something that isn’t just you.

“I’m going to go find him somewhere to live and oh! I have the perfect outfit for today!” You spin and rush away.

You disappear into the bedroom and place Pumple with Mewchanan. You turn and slide open your closet, the door rattling on the wheels. Hmmmmmm. Ah. Yes, you still have it.

You pick out the browny orange overall dress and the cute pumpkin blouse. You love it!

You scramble to get it all on then come out to wrestle with your face and hair. Oof, you are a mess but you have the cutest beret you can hide under. Content, you come out to find Bucky staring at the little collection of rubber ducks painted to look like a black cat, a witch and a skeleton.

“Pumpkin vanilla?” You near him. He steps back and offers the cup, “thanks,” you say as you take it. You taste it as you feel him watching you. You flick your eyes up and shrug, “what?”

“Nothing. Ready to go?” He asks.

“Just need my boots and coat,” you grin. “How’d you even think this up?”

“I love autumn,” he says.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m serious. It reminds me of when I was a kid... as long ago as that was. Thanks, you don’t need to mention,” he adds.

You chuckle and grab your boots, “wasn’t gonna,” you chirp back.

It’s weird, thing seem normal but that tension is like a shadow over you. You let it fade to the edges. You don’t want to ruin the day. He did all this and you just want to enjoy it. Everything else can wait.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #just friends #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

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n1c0tin3 · 1 month ago

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December 3 - @wolfstarmicrofic; prompt: frostbite; 456 words

The winter weather seemed to finally come around at Hogwarts. The pretty snowflakes falling from the sky, building up in the ground and in the trees. A perfect day for snowman building.

Sirius and James were grinning as they worked on their snowman. “Do you think we could enchant it to become alive? Like we did with the amours once?” James asked, pushing his glasses.

“We should try! Do you know the spell?” Sirius replied, taking his scarf and gloves off and dressing the not-alive-yet snowman.

“Moony was who to casted that one, I think”

“Probable, he’s the one who got the brains, after all” He mocked, “Do you have your mirror with you? I let mine at the dorm. If he’s there, he’ll pick up.”

After a few minutes, Remus picked up the call. He was buried on a too large sweater and had a steaming hot chocolate cup in hands. “What’s up? It’s everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Sirius beamed, taking the mirror from James’ hands “We were wondering if you could cast that spell you used on the castle’s armors once in our snowman.”

“Sirius, you put all your clothes on the snowman? You’re gonna get frostbite!” Remus said, concerne in his tone.

“It’s just a little cold, don’t worry! and I still have my coat on” he affirmed “can you please do the spell?” Sirius asked, puppy eyes wide.

The other boy huffed. “Alright, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Remus stayed true with his word, and a few time later, he was walking towards his friends, hugged in more warm clothes than necessary.

When he got there, he turned to Sirius and took off one of his scarfs, wrapping it around the other boy’s neck carefully. Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off him. They were so close he could feel Remus’ warm breath on his face, count the freckles dotted on his nose – faded a little in comparison to summer – look into his dry lips and honey eyes. His face practically screamed warmth and he wanted to burry himself onto him.

Suddenly, the werewolf took Sirius’ hands and wrapped them in maroon gloves, then looked up, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “There, you’re not cold anymore, are you?” he asked softly.

“No, thanks Moons” He replied gently, smile tugging his lips, not sure if it was because of the clothes or simply because of Remus’ presence.

James cleared his throat in a loud noise, drawing attention. “Are you doing the spell, right, Moony?” he asked, to what Remus responded with a nod.

Sirius wasn’t really interested in the walking snowman, when all he could think was the warm clothes that smelled like Remus and the butterflies in his stomach.

#dead gay wizards #marauders #marauders era #fanfic #wolfstar #remus loves sirius #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black

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firefly--bright · 9 days ago

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hc request: snow angels with jean 🥹🩷

OOO HOHOHOH this is so CUTE im keeping this a modern au because thats what i prefer to write :') no gender/pronouns used for reader! :D

masterlist in pinned post! ❅ requests for headcanons are open!!!!! ❅ enter my taglist ❅

❅ ok ok so i imagine him being very begrudgingly into it. like its an incredibly snowy day right, and sasha connie and marco (and you, of course, by association) had dragged him out of bed.

❅ and his whole face is tinged a little red. he's wearing the first sweater he could find which just so happens to be the one his mom made for him, along with a big puffy black coat, a green checkered scarf and bright yellow gloves. not his first choice, fashion-wise, because all the colours are clashing, this looks fucking terrible, but you convince him it looks good enough to have fun and he has no choice but to agree.

❅ anyway. there's like small flakes of snow on his hair and at the corners of his eyes, and its a nice excuse for you to brush his hair with your hand. his nose is red. his lips are a little chapped and everytime he breaths it creates a small puff of air as a proof of his living. and hes building a snowman, with whatever materials all of you could find outside. no you dont have a carrot, who has the foresight for that? you make an executive decision to stick a very thin stick into the centre of the big snowball for his nose. jean complains about your art direction but gets distracted by the fact that connie's building boobs for it.

❅ every picture marco takes, jean is in the corner just standing. arms to his side. like slenderman. no smile. no pose. he's acting as though he hates this which pisses connie off just enough for him to fuck with jean more than usual.

❅ goes without saying but connie starts a snowball fight. and jean being ever-competitive HAS to strike back and now its a whole war but its mainly just jean and connie shouting at eachother while throwing poorly-formed balls of snow at eachother with terrible aim

❅ BACK TO THE MAIN POINT. during this whole. fight. both of them get really tired but now jean is fully smiling, because he's having fun, dammit, and you marco and sasha had gone inside somewhere during their feud to make hot chocolate and warm up some cookies because none of you had had anything to eat yet

❅ and connie immdieately runs inside the house when he hears you guys calling the both of them for food. and jean's all "HA YOU LOSER I WON. FUCK YOU. YOU THINK U COULD CHALLENGE ME?" but he doesnt follow connie inside

❅ and after a few minutes you decide to go out looking for him. his back is facing yours, and his foot is moving over the snow, creating a shape you cant really see. and you call out for him, and he just turns and waves you over to him

❅ turns out he was drawing both your initials in a heart with his foot :( and you HAVE to tease him. obviously.

❅ "youre so sappy i love you." "sappy? im doing the bare fucking minimum," "right." "youre the sappy one. making me hot chocolate and shit." "i made everyone hot chocolate. youre not special." "youre saying this after i made this artwork for you?" he says, smirk on his pink lips, faux offence twisted into his eyebrows and his arm finds it's way across your waist. "sorry, youre right. we should get this framed." "you think youre so smart, huh?" "you set a pretty low bar for it." "oh yeah?" and he starts fucknig tickling you because hes so fucking predictable, right, and you obviously end up loosing your already fragile balance and falling on your back into the snow.

❅ at first he's really apologetic but then he sees you smiling and rolls his eyes before collapsing next to you, cold ice pinpricking his skin despite the layers he wears.

❅ "you destroyed the heart i drew," he says. he wants to win this fake-fight. dumbass. "thats your fault." "right, blame me for your misjudgement-" "you tickled me!" "excuses, excuses." "im sorry, jean, for destroying your heart-" "my beautiful artwork," "- your beautiful artwork that deserved to be framed." "in a shrine. add that part." "no."

❅ its so cliche. he looks at you, his head turned to your direction, and sees your own breath fog up the sky and he thinks hiding his affection is reduntant because youre going to find a way to sneak it out of him somehow.

❅ and then you stretch out your arms, indenting the snow, waving them up and down. "im making new artwork." you say, and he loves you so much it makes him warm all over, imitating your motions with his long ass limbs, sounds of the snow crunching under his movements filling his ears along with your soft laughter.

❅ and after youre satisfied with the unseen outcome of your work, he complains about not being able to feel the tips of his ears and nose, and he helps you get up. you kiss his nose as compensation, and he kisses your forehead in return. "happy?" he asks, and you hum.

❅ "wait, we have to sign our names," you say before crouching down and writing your name under your snow angel, and then write his name under his, creating a heart after his name. he smiles softly after youre done, winding an arm around your shoulder to keep you warm but pretends its because "im so weak and hungry," to which you call him a drama queen. he spares a look behind the two of you to see the snow angels and cant help but wish it would never melt away.

also heres a moodboard. i couldnt help myself.

thank you for the request!! ive never. experienced snow before so im sorry for. any inaccuracies im going based off of my rom-com watching knowledge :') hope you liked it!! <3

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #aot modern au

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gravityfallsreaderinsert · 4 months ago

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Mr. and Mx. Mystery

S1E2 - The Legend of the Gobblewonker

MasterList

In the kitchen was Mabel, Dipper and Y/N. The twins were at the table eating pancakes, really it was Mabel who touched the pancakes you made them, as you were at the stove making more for you and Stan. You finished and placed your share on a plate. Deciding to watch the twins have their fun, you leaned against the counter, plate in hand. You watch as the twins sat in their chairs, maple syrup bottles in hand.

"Are you ready for the ultimate challenge?" Mabel exclaimed holding a Sir Syrup bottle in her hands. "I'm always ready!" Dipper replied with just as much enthusiasm, holding a Mountie Man bottle. "Then you know what this means!" They both turned their bottle upside down in the air, mouths open trying to see who would get their syrup to fall first. "Syrup race, ahh!" They both shouted, cheering for their respected bottles.

"Go, Sir Syrup!"

"Go, Mountie Man!"

"Go go!" They both shout as the syrup in Mabel's bottle starts coming out faster than Dipper's. She then taps the bottom of her bottle, the syrup dropping first. "Almost... almost... Yes," Mabel coughed as the syrup dropped in her mouth and placed her bottle down. "I won!"

Seeing that Mabel won, Dipper put down his bottle and picked up the newspaper he had on the the table. "Hey, Mabel, check this out." He scoots closer toward her, leaning the paper over so she can see. Mabel's eyes light up from looking at an ad in the paper. "Human-sized hamster balls? I'm human-sized!"

"No, no, Mabel. This," Dipper then points to a different ad in the paper that was advertising a photo contest. "We see weirder stuff than that every day. We didn't get any photos of those gnomes, did we?"

"Nope, just memories. And this beard hair." Mabel then pulls out a tuft of white hair from her sweater. Dipper looks at the hair she’s holding in disgust. "Why did you save that?" Mabel shrugged.

"Mabel drop the hair..." Y/N told her, their face also holds an expression of disgust. She lets the grip of her fingers go, laughing as the hair falls to the floor. After the twins are done talking, Stan comes into the kitchen with his own newspaper in hand. "Good morning, knuckleheads. You three know what day it is?"

"Um... Happy anniversary?" Dipper questions, when he does you put your finished plate in the sink and exclaimed. "If it is, I didn't get anything, I have enough pride to admit that." Then Mabel shouts her own guess, "Mazel tov!” Stan then hits Dipper and Y/N on the head with his newspaper, "Ow!"

"It's family fun day, ya geniuses!" Stan walks over toward the fridge. "We're cuttin' off work and havin' one of those, ya know," Pulls out a carton of milk and takes a whiff of the inside, "Bonding-type deals." He walks over toward the table again about to take a drink of the milk, until you take it out of his hands and replaced it with the pancakes you cooked him. Dipper looked over at his Uncle and asked, "Grunkle Stan, is this gonna be anything like our last family bonding day?"

Stan and Y/N stood over the twins as the two kids were painting on counterfeit money, a bunch of finished one are hanging behind them to dry. You were guiding the twins on how to draw what was needed as Stan criticized them.

"You call that Ben Franklin? He looks like a woman!"

"I don't know, I kinda it." Once you said that, red and blue lights started flashing outside of the shank with sirens making you all turn towards the window.

"Uh-oh!"

Mabel shivered, "Ohh! The county jail was so cold." You walked over to where Mabel was sitting and rufffle her hair as you closed your eyes and sighed in content. "You have to admit though, being held together made us closer, sweetie."

Stan scarfed the rest of his pancakes down and placed his own plate with yours. He walks over to the table and wrapped his arms around all three of you, "All right, maybe we haven't been the best summer caretaker. But I swear, today we're gonna have some real family fun. Now, who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into my car?"

Everyone cheered, throwing their arms in the air until Dipper processed what Stan said, "Wait. What?"

After you and Stan put your suits on, he handed you another blindfold, you looked at it then toward his face in disbelief. You placed one of your hands on your hip and grabbed the cloth out of his hands. "When you mentioned the blindfolds I thought you only meant the kids." He chuckled, slapped both his hands on your shoulders and gave you a playful kiss on the cheek, "Trust me, you'll love it!" Y/N placed the cloth in their pocket and started heading towards the car.

The kids are already in the backseat of the car when you and Stan get there, their blindfolds on. Stan got behind the wheel and you in the passenger seat and tied your fold over your eyes.

It's only been a few minutes in the car, when Dipper feels uneasy. As he felt the pit in his stomach grow, Stan leaned over to play with the car radio, not looking at the road making the car swerve. Dipper mutters to himself. "Whoa! Whoa! Blindfolds never lead to anything good."

"Wow. I feel like all my other senses are heightened. I can see with my fingers." Mabel touches Dipper's face, he laughs as he feels her hands on his cheek until the car hits a bump in the road. "Whoa! Grunkle Stan, are you wearing a blindfold?"

Stan laughs, he leans back a little to look at the twins. "Nah, but with these cataracts I might as well be." he squints his eyes towards the front eye, hand over them, "What is that, a woodpecker?" The Twins screamed as you shouted Stan's name, all three of you feeling the car crashing through something.

"Okay, okay, open 'em up." Y/N and the twin take off their blindfolds, seeing the Gravity Falls lake in front of them. "Ta-da! It's fishin' season!"

"Fishing?" Mabel questioned as you clasped out hand together in joy walking over to stand in closer to the dock, "Fishing!" Dipper placed his hands on his hips and looked at his Grunkle in suspicion. "What are you playing at, old man?"

"You're gonna love it! The whole town's out here!" The twins looked over at the lake and low and behold it looked like half the town was enjoying a summer day on the lake. Whether it was one person or a whole family, there were multiple boats. Including Lazy Susan with a pan in his hand, asking the fish to jump in it, Toby taking a picture of a man who caught a giant fish, resulting in the man being blinded by the flash and falling in the lake and one boat had Wendy's family in it with Manly Dan grabbing the fish with his hands and punching them in the boat as his sons cheered. Stan took a deep breath as he took it all in and wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist bringing them closer, "That's some quality family bonding!"

"Uncle Stan, why do you want to bond with us all of a sudden?"

"Come on, this is gonna be great! We've never had fishin' buddies before. The guys from the lodge won't go with us. They don't like or trust us." Stan said as he made air quotations.

Y/N picked the kids up and hugged them tight, the two straining for air. "Oh, kids! This is gonna be fun! A chance to be together that isn't crime related." You then put them back on the ground walking back over to Stan, excited. Mabel turns to Dipper, "I think they actually want to fish with us." She whispered, looking over toward their great uncle and auncle. Stan walks over to the two with his hands behind his back. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you sad sacks up. Pow! Pines family fishin' hats. That's hand-stitching, ya know. It's just gonna be you, me, Y/N and those goofy hats on a boat for ten hours!"

"Ten hours?!" The twins shouted as Stan then pulled out a booked titled '1001 Yuk 'Em Ups'. "I brought the joke book." Dipper grabbed his head in agony, "No. No!" Mabel then grabbed Dipper by the arms and shakes him back and forth, "There has to be a way out of this."

Runs from dock, comes Old Man McGucket, "I seen it! I seen it again! Hoo hoo hoo! The Gravity Falls gobblewonker! Come quick before he scramdoodles away! Ha ha hoo-ah!" He screamed as he crashed into things and overturned a few others. When he stops he starts doing a dance and slaps himself, laughing. The twins walk over to the commotion and as they do Mabel puts her hands together and leaned her cheek on them. "Aw. He's doing a happy jig." McGucket grabbed Mabel by her arms and shouted, "No!!! It's a jig of grave danger!" Just as he did his son comes out from the cabin on the lake with a spray bottle. "Hey! Hey! Now, what did I tell you about scaring my customers? This is your last warning, dad." McGucket flinches from the water being sprayed at him. "But I got proof this time, by gummity!" He then motions everyone to follow him toward the end of the dock.

"Behold! It's gobbledywonker what done did it!" He exclaimed as he pointed at a boat that's been broken in half laying in the water. "It had a long neck like a gee-raffe, and wrinkly skin like like these two right here." He then points to Y/N and Stan. Stan was digging in his ear not paying attention as you looked at McGucket in angry, "I beg your pardon!"

"It chopped my boat up to smitheroons!" McGucket then points at the small island that's on the other side of the lake, "It shim-shammed over to scuttlebutt island! Ya gotta believe me!"

"Attention, all units. We got ourselves a crazy old man." Sheriff Blubs said casing everyone to laugh and Tate McGucket to shake his head and hold it down in shame. McGucket then holds his own head down as he walks away in sadness, "Aw, donkey spittle! Banjo Polish"

"Well, that happened. Now, let's untie this boat and get out on that lake!" Stan said as he walks over to his boat, Y/N following him. When you catch up to him, you see the twins talking to each other, "Stan, there's a chance the twins might want to go look for this monster..." Stan waved his hand at you, blowing a raspberry, getting in the boat. "They wouldn't want to miss this family bonding, trust me." As he said this the twins came over with smiles on their faces. Dipper wraps his arm around Stan's neck and said, "Grunkle Stan! Change of plans! We're taking that boat to scuttlebutt island, and we are gonna find that gobblewonker." The twins start to chant, Monster Hunt! Monster Hunt! Monster-" Then McGucket comes over standing behind them, "Monster Hunt! Monster-. Eh... I'll go." He says with his head down again.

"You dudes say something about a monster hunt?" Soos in his own boat pulls up on the other side of the dock. "Soos!" Mabel then walks closer to the boat to give Soos a fist bump. "What's up, hambone? Kapoosh! Pow! Explode! Dude, you could totally use my boat for your Hunt. It's got a steering wheel, chairs normal boat stuff."

"All right, let's think this through. You kids could go waste your time on some epic monster-finding adventure, or you could spend the day learning how to tie knots and skewer worms with your great uncle Stan and auncle Y/N! So, whaddya say?" As Stan is saying this, you watched the kids put on their life jackets and get on the boat with Soos without a single glance toward you or Stan. You folded your arms in front of your chest and frowned. "Stan... they left." You whispered as you watched the boat leave, turning to Stan who opened his eyes watching them go too. As Soos' boat leaves you hear twins shout, "We made the right choice!"

Stan grabs you hand, making you almost fall in the boat if you didn't catch yourself. You both sit down as Stan continued to watch the retreating boat. "Ingrates! Ah, who needs 'em? We got a whole box of creepy fishin' lures to keep us company." You both stare at the lure and shiver, Stan then slams the box shut.

~ Time Skip ~

"Traitors! We'll find my own fishin' buddies.” Stan then starts looking around the lake, a focused look on his face.

“But, what about us all bonding toget-“ Y/N didn’t finished their sentence as the boat was already speeding in some direction, Stan having found his target. "There's our new pals!"

"Now that we're alone, Rosanna, there's a burning question which my heart longs to ask of you." The man pulled out a box as the woman’s eyes began to fill with tears. “Oh, Reginald!” Before the man could continue Stan slows his boat down behind theirs and stopping.

"Hey! Wanna hear a joke?" The younger man was about to speak because Stan interrupted him, "Here goes. My ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is gettin' better! Her aim is gettin' better! Ya see, it's… it's funny because marriage is terrible.” You clapped your hands as you laughed. However the younger couple scoffed and rowed their boat far way from the Stan ‘O War.

“What?!"

You placed a hand on his back as you looked at the retreating boat, "Don't worry, Stan. I enjoy your jokes..."

"Look, when you're threading the line a lot of people don't know this but you want to use a barrel knot. That's a secret from one fishin' buddy to another. Heh heh!" Stan has his arm wrapped around a kid that's in a different boat, the kid looked extremely uncomfortable. "Uh I, uh who are you, exactly?" Stan then pats the kid on the head, Y/N was standing behind his confused as ever. "Just call me your Grunkle Stan!"

"Sir sir! Why are you talking to our son?! If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police!" The mother shouts as she stands behind her son, making Stan let go of the kid. "Oh no you don't!" You pushed Stan behind you and placed your hands on your hip, leaning over towards their boat, trying to get in the woman's face. She backs up a little but still tries to stand her ground, "I will!

"Ha ha! Ya see, the thing about that is, Arrrr!" Stan starts the engine and zooms the boat in a different direction, almost making you fall.

"Go bother your own kids!"

Stan moved the boat towards the middle of the lake, looking defeated. You looked around the lake, seeing that most of the people and their boats are starting to pack up. You sighed, turning towards Stan and saw him leaning his arms on his knees, head in hands as he looked at his own reflection in the water. You moved over to sit closer to him and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. Stan looked from his reflection to yours, he sat up and wrapped his arm around your waist, the both of you now leaning on to one another. Moments of silence went by until you broke it.

"Hey honey, how you holding up?" You rubbed circles in his shoulder with your thumb, you felt his body sink more into you. He waved his hand, staring at the water.

"I just... I wanted this day to go well. I wanted us to bond with the kids, try to get them to see that we mean well, ya know. To show that I actually care for those like brats. I don't want them to think that we're just a couple of criminals." Y/N sighed and looked back into the water.

"Well, sure today didn't go the way you planned but we still have the rest of summer. So, we have time to bond with them and I don't think they see us like that all the time. Yeah, we have our moments, of course, but I don't think they see us just as that."

"Oh yeah? Ya wanna know what the first thing they did when they first got here was," he glanced over at you, raising his eyebrow. When he saw you nod your head, he removed his arm from your waist and put his head in his hands again. "They were debating on if they should turn us in to the FBI and jump out the window to escape and they asked an eight ball if they should or not... A eight ball, Y/N!"

Y/N removed their arm from Stan and folded their hands in their lap, looking down. "Oh, I didn't know... Well, even if they don't really warm up to us, we have each other still. But, I would still like to try and build some relationship with them and even after today I know you would too." Stan rolled his eyes and groaned, waving his hand at you. "Forget it, those little suckers chose to hang out with Soos instead of their own family. We don't need them," he pulled out a piece of wire and starting to try and tie it into a knot. "Like you said we have each other and fishing! Er, ugh, gah! Mollycoddling..." He complained as he failed to tie it.

"Oh, Stan..."

"Can you please tell me more funny stories, pop-pop?" You and Stan turned to see a grandfather and his two grandkids in a boat. They seem like they were having a good time together, much to Stan's and Y/N's annoyance.

"Anything for my fishin' buddies!" As the the grandfather laughs he pats his grandchildren on the head. Stan growls as he folds his arms over his chest, staring at the family. "Arghh!" Y/N gently placed their hand on Stan’s back, "Stan, just don't look at them."

"Pop-pop, I just weawized that I wuv you." Stan stands up and cups his hands around his mouth, "Aw, come on! Boo! Boo!"

The grandfather stands up in his own boat, hands on his hips. "Hey, there! What's the big idea?" The grandson then looks up at his grandfather with a pity expression and says, “Maybe they have no one who wuvs them, pop-pop."

"Yeah, well, I-I nahh! Ahhh." Before he could say anything Soos' boat speeds past the Stan 'O War soaking him and Y/N. You hold on to the boat to keep your balance as Stan throws his hat in the boat, puffing out in frustration as he sits down and sighed with his head in his hands.

~ Time Skip ~

As Y/N and Stan sat together in silence, you both hear Dipper's voice. "Hey! Over here!" The S.S Cool Dude pulls up next to the Stan 'O War and Dipper takes a picture of both Stand and you with his camera. You and Stan look at each other in surprise then back at their boat or what's left of it anyway. "What the kids? I thought you two were off playin' spin the bottle with Soos?" Stan said crossing his arms, trying to look like he wasn't happy to see them.

"Well, we spent all day trying to find a "legendary" dinosaur."Dipper began and Mabel continued. "But we realized the only dinosaurs we want to hang out with is right here."

"Save your sympathy! We been having a great time without ya, makin' friends, talkin' to our reflection-- we had a run-in with the lake police! Guess we gotta wear these ankle bracelets now, so that'll be fun." He said holding his leg up to show the bracelet. You wave your hand nonchalantly, "We'll just try and take them off later."

"So I guess there isn't room in that boat for three more?" Dipper asked.

Y/N looked over at Stan with a worried look on their face as they placed a hand on his shoulder. Stan looked at the water, then back up toward the twins, they both put on the custom fisher hats that Stan made them. Stan looked over at you, smirking, and nodded his head at the kids. Y/N laughed as they leaned over toward the kids, picking them up and placing them on their lap, both of them cheering. "You knuckleheads ever seen me thread a hook with my eyes closed?" Dipper stands up from your lap, pointing his finger at Stan, "Five bucks says you can't do it." Stan points back at him, "You're on!"

"Five more bucks says you can't do it with your eyes closed plus me singing at the top of my lungs!" Mabel exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you warped your around her side, both you laughing.

"Kids, don't make a bets with an ex con-man." You chuckled as Mabel looked at you still laughing, "But that's what makes it challenging!"

"Plus, I like these odds!" Soos then in the boats, causing both you and Stan two look at him in shock, "Whoa! What happened to your shirt?" Soos puts his hand up and and shakes his head. "Long story, dude." Dipper then holds up his camera standing on one stand of the boat. "All right. Everybody get together, say fishing." the rest of you huddle together and smile and shout, "Fishing!"

"Fishing! Dude, am I in the frame?" Soos asked as the picture gets taking. You all then spend of the rest of the day enjoying each others company. Then as the sun sets you all call it a day and Stan starts to drive the boat toward the dock, all you smiling in content until the boat hits a bump in the water.

Dipper turned toward his sister and asked, "What was that?" Mabel looked at him with a smile still on her face and shrugged. "Mm-mm."

Underwater, the real Gobblewonker swims under the Stan 'O War and eats one of Dipper's cameras.

#dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls reader insert #mabel pines #stan pines x reader #stanley pines #stanley pines version #stanley pines x reader #Mr. and Mx. Mystery

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rainforestakiie · 4 months ago

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hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

“Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #au #guitarduck #a03 #fanficiton #omega x omega #omega adam #omega lucifer #omegaverse #omega pair #aztec mythology #aztec gods #losely based on Aztec mythology #promised souls

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