#sweet sorrow

[creatingnikki]

now there are songs on my playlist that take me back to your bedroom instantly. it feels like a scene from a movie with a montage song, when the couple is finally together and sharing cute intimate moments. this is post the talking stage, this is the cringe cute stage. can't get enough of each other, experiencing each other for the very first time. your hands on my face, my legs around you. kisses planted on the forehead, switching positions, laughing. jokes about — wow, have you paid attention to the lyrics ever? that's like a situationship playlist. laughing, looking at each other knowing that this thing that we have is anything but a situationship scene.

shall I change the playlist?

no, come here.

what do I do now? what do I do with these songs? what do I do with these memories of you? I'm not one to mind cherishing memories of people no longer in my life — in fact, I do it very well. I keep them in mint condition for decades with no intention of selling them at any point. but our memories? it's one of the first times I am having trouble cherishing such sweet moments.

I know you wish me ill. that too is new for me. what did I ever do so wrong to you other than be myself and not melt and mold my existence into the me you wanted to love and keep?

no matter how much you hate me, I wish you well. no matter, I'll continue being me.

[thiccpettybitch]

Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 1 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Phew, alright, I have to admit, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write. My self-doubt and anxieties are having a go at me, and I can't help but feel like I rushed it a little. But you know what? I'd rather get it out there than keep overthinking it until I can quote it word for word.

I know it might be a bit confusing or jumbled right now, but I promise it'll get easier to understand as the story unfolds. There are so many good moments planned that I can't wait to share with you 😭

Today's been a self-doubt day for me, but hey, it happens. Now, let's talk about Sweet Sorrow, the spin-off of my baby Bitter Sweet. I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think about it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

Also, I want to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the support. We've reached over 1000 likes and over 100 reblogs, and I'm incredibly grateful for every single one. Your likes, questions, comments, and asks truly make my day brighter. I can't say it enough – thank you all from the bottom of my heart!💖

(I’ve also gotten all your asks so don’t worry! Once the next chapter of Bitter Sweet is out, i will begin slowly releasing them as well! ty again, ilu all!)

Now, I'm going to take a deep breath and keep pushing forward with the story. With your support, I know I can make it even better, and I'm excited to see where this journey takes us.

Part 2

As you find yourself hurtling towards an inevitable end, you gaze upward, and there is Miguel, falling with you. His hand reaches out with desperate hope, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance between you. Despite his bloodied and battered state, he grits his teeth, calling out for you with a heart-wrenching cry. You don’t have the strength to call out for him, tears well up in your eyes, suspended in the air like tiny, glistening droplets, as you continue to fall.

You know he won't be able to catch you; the fall is too fast, the distance too great. However perhaps selfishly so, you still use the last of your strength to call out for him, begging him to save you.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the Green Goblin appears, swooping in on his glider. He crashes into Miguel's side, sending him careening into another building. You close your eyes letting out another sob as you watch The Green Goblin looks down at you, his face twisted with malevolence. He gives you a small, taunting wave, relishing, before setting his sights on Spiderman, on Miguel.

Will it hurt?

As you plummet, the inevitable ground approaches, and you can't help but think that this is it. In a final desperate act, you call out Miguel's name, as if it's your way of making a lasting impact on the world. The prospect of death might be beyond your control, but no one can take away the memories of his name, his face, his smile, his touch, and his love. They will be the last thoughts in your mind before you touch the ground. Before you die.

With a loud gasp, the back of your jacket unexpectedly snags on a flag post, suspending you high above the ground. As you look down, the world spins around you, making your head swirl with dizziness. Panic takes hold, and you cry out in a desperate attempt to free yourself. The flagpole protests with creaks, and you find yourself trapped, unable to move without facing a deadly plunge. It's as if fate is playing one last cruel joke on you, leaving you helplessly suspended, caught between life and death.

---

Miguel's expression contorted with pain as the glider collided with him, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. Amidst the chaos, Osborn's sinister laughter echoed in his ears, fueling his determination. He mustered every ounce of strength, pushing himself up, his talons digging into the glider's metal.

‘’Miguel--!!’’

Rage and panic surged through him, driving Miguel to lash out. With a fierce punch, he thrust his hand through the metal, causing cables and sparks to fly, but he paid no mind to the chaos around him. Osborn cursed and fought back, trying to halt his advance. Fingers closed around Miguel's mask, but he didn't care anymore, not even as the mask was yanked off, and their eyes met. A roar escaped his lips as he smacked Osborn in the face, the broken glider sending the villain flying into a nearby building.

Despite his aching body, Miguel webbed onto two buildings simultaneously, propelling himself forward through the air. He ignored the pain, focused only on reaching his destination. Landing on the roof of the building where you had fallen, he scrambled up on all fours, rushing to the edge. Before he could react, a blinding light burst through the air, and he collided with a solid mass, sending him falling backward.

Looking up, Miguel froze in astonishment. Before him stood a large, futuristic-looking Spiderman, his face concealed behind a mask, yet the intensity of his gaze felt palpable. It was as if he was scrutinizing Miguel's very soul. But the urgency in your cry brought him back to the present. Determined to reach you, he rose to his feet, ready to dash over, only to be halted by the other Spiderman's outstretched hand, signaling him to stop.

"Don't kid," the man's voice resonated with a deep yet strangely familiar tone.

"What- ¡Bastardo! ¡Fuera de mi camino!" Miguel practically spat, his frustration boiling over as he tried to move past the other Spiderman. But his defiance was met with an iron grip on his suit, forcing him back to the ground with a powerful slam. Despite his own strength, Miguel found himself overpowered as the other Spiderman held him down effortlessly with just one arm.

Rage surged through him as he yelled in frustration, attempting to push the man off, but to no avail. The other Spiderman responded by slamming him back down, now using both arms to maintain control. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity of the moment was almost suffocating.

"Listen to me!" the other Spiderman growled; his voice urgent. "I can save her! But you have to listen to me; I don't have much time!"

Miguel's eyes locked onto the stranger's face, wide with unfiltered rage. Their attention was momentarily drawn to the ledge by the sound of a creaking pole and your desperate cries.

"Hijo de puta! Get off me, I’ll rip your head off!" Miguel yelled in frustration, but his defiance only resulted in another punishing slam into the roof, leaving him gasping for breath.

As if by some futuristic mechanism, the man's mask suddenly dissolved before Miguel's eyes, leaving his face fully exposed in an instant. He froze, staring up in pure shock.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, kid," Miguel looked up at the older version of himself, utterly speechless and shocked.

"¡Escúchame!" The older man's voice echoed with intensity, his crimson eyes locking fiercely with Miguel's brown ones.

"Even if you save her now, she'll be in danger again, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next shocking week. It doesn't matter! She'll keep facing death over and over!" Miguel shook his head, about to protest, but he was forcefully pushed back against the roof, the pain shooting through him.

"SHUT UP!" the older version of himself shouted, cutting off any further objections.

"She is destined to die! Because of you! Because of who you are, because of who WE are! But I can save her… I can save her life, you understand?’’ Miguel gazed up at the man, still in shock and pain, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward the ledge of the building.

"I can save her. But she can never see you again. She will be safe with me; she can have a life with me, but only if I take her with me. You have to let her go." The older version of himself pressed him down before rising and leaning over Miguel, hovering just above him, his finger pointing directly at his face.

"You go over there now, you save her?" He pointed towards the edge. "She dies. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. You have to make a choice, right now." Miguel swallowed hard, his eyes glossing over as he looked at the ledge and then back at the older version of himself.

"I…" Miguel hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

"CHOOSE, NOW!" The older Miguel barked, his teeth showing in a fierce display of impatience.

"I… Save her! I love-" Miguel's voice trembled as he looked up at the older version of himself. To his surprise, the man's expression softened slightly. In that fleeting moment, they shared a connection. Miguel blinked, and just like that, the mask formed back over the older man's face, concealing his emotions once more. He stood tall, turning away from Miguel, leaving him sitting there.

"I'll keep her safe. Tienes mi palabra," the man said, glancing briefly over his shoulder before leaping off the side of the building.

Miguel remained sitting there, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through him. He watched as bright lights illuminated the scene, listening to your desperate calls for him. His entire body went rigid. He dashed up, rushing to the side, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the portal closing, taking you away with it. You were gone, leaving him standing there alone, his fists trembling at his sides. The distant sounds of the city were drowned out by the deafening sound of his heart hammering in his ears.

---

The flagpole keeps creaking, and panic engulfs you as you frantically search for anything to hold onto, causing you to swing back and forth in desperation. With every creak, the pole bends a little more, making your heart race even faster. You stretch upward, trying to grasp onto it as it starts bending downwards.

Your hands wrap around the pole, but you feel yourself slipping, and in desperation, you cry out for Miguel, for anyone, to come and save you. The bolts that attach the flagpole to the wall begin to move as your weight puts strain on the weak fastenings, threatening to give way.

In a terrifying moment, the small flagpole is pulled out of the loosening bolts, and you scream as it drops, together with you.

Suddenly, a figure casts a shadow above you, and you look up just in time to witness another Spiderman's arrival. His talons dig into the wall as he slides down, causing it to crack apart. In a swift move, he snatches the collar of your shirt, catching you, and with incredible strength, he pulls you up and holds you with one arm. For a moment, you stare at each other, shocked and slightly bloodied you stare up at the eyes of his mask slowly narrowing, as if he waited for something to happen.

But before you can comprehend what's happening, the man throws you through a portal, and you scream out for Miguel, your voice echoing in desperation. He follows right behind you, and the world around you shifts drastically.

The surroundings are strange, uncanny, and constantly morphing into different shapes, colors, and constructs. It feels as if you're floating in space, yet there's a sense of movement, as if the world around you is shifting and transforming. Shapes, sounds, and colors blend together, creating an otherworldly experience. It's as if you've entered a realm where time, space, and reality intertwine, leaving you in a state of awe and bewilderment.

Suddenly, the man reappears, the other Spiderman, leaping towards you with a trademark Spiderman leap. Panic grips you as you scramble to escape. Whoever this guy was, whether he wore a Spiderman suit or not, he wasn’t Miguel.

You flail your arms and legs, akin to a dog attempting to swim for the first time. However, before you can fully comprehend what's happening, a hand snatches you up and propels you towards yet another bright light. Your body is flung through the portal, leaving you disoriented and landing on your front in a large and dimly lit room.

Slowly, you push yourself up on your arms, whispering a quiet, pained "ow..." The realization of the situation dawns on you, and your eyes shoot open. Flipping over onto your back, you begin to crawl backward, putting distance between yourself and the man who is stepping toward you.

Every muscle in your body tenses with fear and uncertainty. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest as you try to make sense of where you are and what's happening. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere. You don't know who this man is or what he wants, and your instincts urge you to keep your distance.

"Lyla!" His voice startled you, and as you turned around, a cheerful yellow hologram of a woman materialized on the man's shoulder.

[Oh, hey Boss~ How’d it go- Oh…]

Suddenly the hologram playfully teleported in front of you. Instinctively, you scooted back, keeping both of them at arm's length. The hologram, Lyla, flickered momentarily before returning to the man's shoulder.

"Check her vitals and bring up the statistics from her dimension," he says, drawing a circle with his hand to encompass all of you. As he walks past, you scramble away, realizing that he doesn't seem interested in you. Making his way over to some monitors, he starts typing something in.

[Got it]

The hologram nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders as a bright yellow light shines over you, seemingly scanning your body. You instinctively move away, flinching as the light flicks from one side of you to the other.

[Elevated heart rate; 123 bpm. The respiratory rate is increased, steady at 15. Without a thorough check-up, I can't provide precise statistics. However, based on a quick review, she shows possible signs of anxiousness and confusion, and she might be somewhat disoriented. Additionally, she could be showing signs of paleness, which might indicate a drop in her blood pressure, although that could also be due to a lack of sun exposure... sorry to call you out, y/n]

"Lyla..." The man's voice carried a cautious tone as he swiftly typed on a hologram keyboard, summoning screens before him.

[The canon is stable, no disruptions or anomalies detected.] The hologram swiftly flicked around and settled in front of you, making you flinch involuntarily.

[I'm so excited to have you here! I mean, hiiiii! My name is Lyla! I have so many questions for you~ By the way, is that your natural hair color? Because-] Lyla's bubbly introduction is interrupted as you ask, your hands trembling slightly.

"How do you know my name…?" you inquire, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

Lyla flicks, and in an instant, her back is turned towards you, now facing Miguel with her hands on her hips. Then she flicks again and reappears in front of him.

[You didn't tell her?] she asks Miguel, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Haven't really had the chance to yet," he snapped at her, clearly annoyed, as he finished whatever he was doing on the monitors. Finally, he turned around to face you.

The man walked over towards you, and fearfully, you scrambled backward. He stopped, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, and let out a tired sigh. "I won't hurt you," he reassured you. Despite his words, you still flinched and moved back even more as he takes another step towards you.

"You have my word; you are safe here. I just need to give you this," he said, holding up what seemed like a futuristic watch.

As he moves forward and you flinch back once again, your back pressed against the wall, he lets out a frustrated sound. Suddenly, he leaps at you and snatches your wrist, causing you to cry out and instinctively smack your closed fist against his chest.

"Stop! Wait! Just—just hold still!" You try to pull away from him as he tris to calm you down, his grip tight as he tries to hold you in place.

"No, stop moving, I'm—stop," he says wearily, trying to get you to calm down.

"No! Let go of me! HELP ME, SOMEONE, PLEASE!" Panic surges through you, and your body is on high alert as you thrash around in his grip, your eyes darting around the room for someone, anyone.

He snatches both of your wrists, trying to hold you still, but your panic escalates into a full-blown panic attack. You pull, hit, and kick him, desperately trying to pry your hands away and get away from him.

"Just—STOP!" The man finally says, grabbing the bottom of your face and forcing you to look up at him. You resist at first, attempting to break free from his grip, until you finally open your eyes and freeze. As you watch, the Spider-Man mask covering his face dissolves away, revealing his face.

The man standing in front of you was a spitting image of Miguel, a bit older, with a few more wrinkles likely from frowning and stress rather than actual age, you would have guessed. He stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Shocked and unable to move, you could only stand there, gazing up at him.

He took the opportunity to snap the bracelet onto your wrist. It wasn't tight, but it felt secure enough that it wouldn't easily come off. You didn't even notice, too absorbed in staring at his face.

Finally, Miguel, older Miguel, let go of you and straightened up, his gaze turned away with a noticeable frown on his face.

"Who..." you asked, your eyebrows tightly together as you took in his appearance.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I lead an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" he began explaining.

"What- no," you interrupted, taking a step back and shaking your head, a look of confusion and disapproval on your face, "I know Miguel, you—you're not my—"

"I am Miguel, but not your Miguel, I am from another dimension," he clarified, attempting to make sense of the situation.

[This dimension, to be more specific], Lyla chimed in, appearing hovering above his shoulder, seemingly nonchalant.

You shook your head slowly, your lip trembling as you glanced down at the floor, trying to process what you had just been told. You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to stop the swirling emotions from overwhelming you. It was as if by not agreeing and not wanting it to be true, you hoped somehow to fix the situation.

"I don't—I don't know you. I want to go back; I need to make sure Miguel—MY Miguel is okay!" You push past him and walk over to where the portal had been, running your hands over the surface of the wall, searching for some sort of button or switch.

"You can't go back," he says firmly.

"What?" you ask, turning around to face him. "What do you mean 'can't'? You brought me here, so you can take me back!" you protest.

"You," he sighed, glancing around the room, searching for the right words before finally closing his eyes in defeat. He looked at you with a serious expression, "You were supposed to die tonight, but I managed to find a way around it. However, for that to happen and for you to survive, you can't.... you can't go back. I'm sorry."

"You're lying... I survived! I've been in dangerous situations before! I—this was no different, I got saved—" you protested, your emotions running high.

"You got saved by ME; I interfered. Without it, you would have been killed," he explained, his hands now on his hips as he walked over to you slowly.

"In our worlds... as Miguel and y/n, we are the equivalent of a Spiderman," he pointed at his own chest and then gestured to yours, "and a Gwen Stacy."

You frowned, looking at his hand, and he let out a quiet sigh. "It's a messed up 'never meant to be' canon event that is unavoidable, trust me – I have tried. As soon as versions of us meet, it starts."

"What starts?" you asked, feeling confused.

"A canon event, something that can't be avoided without the risk of total and complete destruction of that dimension," he responded matter-of-factly.

You let out a bitter laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to believe that an entire dimension, world, universe—whatever—would collapse just because versions of us start dating?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, taking a step towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he towered over you. "In every universe, versions of us date, and you, almost every version of you, die. That's your story."

Miguel leaned back, looking down at you with disdain. "Or, if you're lucky, I'm the one who dies. Either way, that's our story, our fate. If anything, or anyone, breaks that cycle, THAT then threatens that dimension's safety."

"Why?!" Your voice broke, and a mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside you, tears building up in your eyes.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because it's a canon event! And canon events cannot be broken without the risk of complete multidimensional collapse."

Everything he said sounded so foreign to you, yet strangely believable. The sincerity in his voice and the evidence you had witnessed so far led you to believe him. He didn't come across as a man who would lie. But believing his words didn't mean you had to accept them.

Your hands felt clammy, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. A headache began to pulse in your temples, and as you looked up, the room seemed to spin around you, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. This couldn't be happening... this couldn't be real.

"I-I want to go back. Take me back..." you desperately say, your words a mix of a plea and demand.

"I can't do that," he responds, his hands on his hips.

"Let me go back!" you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I can't do that," he responds again, avoiding your gaze, a heavy weight in his voice.

You feel yourself heat up, anger and panic mixing into a dangerous and unfamiliar mess inside you, threatening to erupt. Suddenly, a door next to you opens, revealing two people dressed in Spiderman suits—one wearing a blue vest, and the other clad in a fully black suit with white marks.

"Take her to my quarters, let her lay down and rest until I find a place for her to stay," Miguel mumbles, tiredly rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turns around to leave.

"Don't touch me... I’m not going anywhere!" you warn, your voice firm

Miguel stops and his head whips around as he looks down at you, his eyebrows raised. The unspoken question, dare, hung heavily in the air.

Is that so?

---

You thrashed around, your fists smacking into his bulky back as he had you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curses and threats spilled from you, but he remained nonchalant, walking ahead with a frown on his face. Your yelling caught the attention of people around you, and as you looked up, you realized that everyone was wearing different kinds of suits, all with some sort of Spider symbol or design.

After an awkwardly long elevator ride, during which you had tired yourself out with all your kicking and thrashing, you heard the ding as the elevator doors opened. Stepping outside, he carried you until he ended up in front of a pair of doors. He dropped you on your feet and you opened your mouth about to curse him out when he spun you around and pushed you inside.

"You—YOU! You can't just... I HAVE RIGHTS!" you shouted in frustration and anger.

"Oh? Great, oh wow" he responded sarcastically, barely letting you get your words out.

"AND YOU CAN'T JUST, JUST TAKE ME AND—" you continued to vent your anger.

"Uh huh, uh huh," he nodded, his hands on his hips, watching you storm over towards him with a mocking smile on his face.

The doors closed abruptly in your face, and you stopped, your eyes wide with pure shock. For a moment, you were left speechless, trying to process what had just happened, your eye twitching in annoyance.

And then? Then you began breaking stuff.

You were yelling a mixture of gibberish and curses, you had been smacking your hand against the metal sliding doors for what felt like hours, kicking at them, and demanding to be let out. When that didn’t work you began trashing the place, kicking chairs out of your way, smacking over books and bowls and- well… the place wasn’t really decorated much. Until finally you were left pacing back and forth, a pillow held tightly in your hands, it was the only thing around not yet on the floor.

You finally stopped, backing up to take in your surrounding and the state of the room, as your back hit the wall, you slowly came to a stop, dropping the pillow you had been holding. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in that moment, you didn't really care; your mind was not thinking straight.

Your eyes shifted around the room, taking in the destruction you had unintentionally caused. Finally, you slumped back, feeling your body slide down against the wall until you landed softly on the floor. You pulled your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them hiding your face.

In your mind, this felt like a terrible nightmare you desperately wanted to wake up from. You yearned to open your eyes and find yourself back in the safety of your bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the blinds. The comforting routine of having breakfast with your aunt and uncle, followed by a trip to school to meet your friends and, of course, Miguel. It filled your heart with a sense of normalcy you sorely missed.

Your chest felt so tight for a moment that you thought you might be having a heart attack, but it was more likely a panic attack taking hold of you. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the silence around you only amplified your distress. It felt as if the world was closing in, leaving you struggling for breath and unable to think straight.

You desperately needed to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Lifting your tear-stained face from your arms, you took in the surroundings of the room, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity. It was a small, cramped space with a kitchen area, a bedroom, a compact living area with a large desk, and finally, a door that you presumed led to the bathroom. At first glance, it didn't look like a jail cell, but then why did it feel as though invisible metal bars were closing in around you?

Your eyes shifted to your wrist, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. The braided bracelet encircling it suddenly felt so heavy, like a weight pulling you down. Your chin trembled, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you began to weep, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against the bracelet.

After what felt like hours of crying, you noticed a bright yellow light shined down on you. Looking up, you watched as Lyla materialized in front of you, silently observing you.

[Miguel has instructed me to give you a quick tour of his quarters. Would you... like me to show you around?]

If you had to guess, you would probably say she's some kind of AI; thus, who knows if she could feel sympathy or even understand what you were going through. Running the back of your hands over your eyes, you wiped away some of the tears, but you were still unable to get your breathing under control.

[Is there anything I can help you with? I could pull up a few breathing exercises or calming videos of puppies if you would like?]

You eyed her for a moment, contemplating whether she was being genuine or making fun of you. Based on the tone of her voice and the hologram itself, Lyla seemed to be at least trying to comfort you.

[I have to admit... I'm not really good at this. It's not as if Miguel possesses a wide range of emotions.]

"What time is it?" You asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at small talk.

[It's approximately six PM.]

"Why is it so dark in here?"

[Miguel prefers it that way. In his work station and quarters, you'll find the lighting is usually kept dim.]

You glance around the room and realize that one of the reasons it feels like a glorified prison cell is the lack of a window.

"Does he hate windows too?" you ask bitterly.

[No. However, I was instructed not to open it due to...] She trails off, nervously flickering her gaze around the room.

"Due to what?" you press, narrowing your eyes as you slowly stand.

[There are napkins in the third drawer of his desk, please help yourself,] she said, smoothly changing the subject.

Silently, you walked over to the desk, your gaze fixated on the drawers. You made a mental note to check them all out later, when you weren't being watched. You pulled on the drawer, and there, on top of some files, you found the box of napkins. You consciously ignored the box of lotion that lay behind it.

"Terrific..." you muttered to yourself, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Why can't you open a window?" you demanded.

[I am fully capable of opening a window, it's—] Lyla began to explain.

"Why were you instructed not to, then?" you interrupted, your upper lip twitching in annoyance.

Lyla fell quiet, flickering around until she reappeared in front of you on the desk. You wiped your nose and some tears off your face, feeling a mix of emotions. Suddenly, a noise on the far wall caught your attention. You looked over and watched as some blinds, which had been impossible to spot in the dark, cracked open, allowing a stream of light to finally shine in.

[Ooh, WOW! Haha! Look at this place! You ripped it apart! That's so funny, Miguel is gonna lose his mind,] she exclaimed.

"Is he violent?" you ask, making your way towards the window.

[What? Of course not! Well, if you're wondering if you have anything to fear, then no,] she assures you.

"Oh good, I'm glad my kidnapper doesn't have violent tendencies," you retort. There was a time when you might have felt guilty about your attitude, but after everything that had happened, you couldn't care less.

[Would you like me to put on some music? I know what you like! I have a few playlists saved based on your—] she begins to suggest.

"How high up are we? Are you able to remove the blinds completely?" you inquire, glancing out the window as you test the strength of the metal blinds.

[y/n... Even if I opened those blinds, and even if you weren't several hundred feet above the ground (I do not have permission to disclose HQ information with you), and you could get out...] Lyla flicked to your side, her avatar looking at you with sympathetic eyes, or as close to it as she could manage.

[You're not in your own dimension. You're not even really in your own timeline; you're about an average human's lifetime ahead of your own timeline. Even if I let you out... you'd have nowhere to go], she gently explained, delivering the disheartening truth.

As the blinds peeled back loudly, the entire window was revealed, causing you to flinch instinctively. You turned your head quickly to see Miguel, the other Miguel, leaning against the doorframe with his hand sliding off a button.

Glancing outside, you watched the city before you, and the knot in your stomach grew. Everything looked futuristic, with cars soaring down below and buildings towering even taller than those back home.

Home...

The only thing that looked remotely similar to home were the large, over-the-top billboards littering the city. You were too high up to actually see the people walking down below, which did prove that Lyla hadn't been lying.

Lyla flicked over to Miguel, hovering above his shoulder, engaged in a quiet conversation with him. As you turned towards them, the growing tightness in your chest returned. Slowly, you walked away from the window, positioning yourself on the opposite side of him—more importantly, the opposite side of the door. Miguel casually observed you, and for the first time since you had seen his face, he wasn't frowning. You glanced at the open doorway behind him and then back at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

"Don't..." He casually warned, staring down at you.

Turning around, you began walking towards the kitchen, attempting to feign hunger by casually sliding your hand over your stomach. But as soon as you were near the door, your only plan was to get the hell out of there and away from him.

With a swift move, you tried to slip past him, but he reacted lightning-fast, grabbing your wrist and hoisting you up in the air. He forcefully pulled you backwards, leaving your toes barely touching the floor, before throwing you onto his couch.

"Enough already—" Miguel started to say, but he had to stop himself as you made another desperate attempt to dash past him. He pushed you down against the couch, one hand on your chest.

"Let me out of here! Send me home!" you hissed, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY! If you go back there, your whole dimension will disappear, together with everything in it! Everyone you know, your friends, family, loved ones—everyone will die," Miguel explained, his hand keeping you in place as you stared up at him, breathing heavily, and eventually slumping back against the couch.

You didn't have the energy to question him further. You smacked his hand away from you, sitting up and leaning forward. Your arms rested on your knees, and you covered your face with your hands. The amount of information from unreliable sources was overwhelming, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

You fell backwards against the couch, silently staring out the window. For a brief, beautiful moment, your brain seemed to take pity on you and dissociated from reality, allowing you to watch the sun finally set and the darkness of the night slowly taking over. While Miguel occupied himself with some paperwork, speaking into his bracelet, and moving about his quarters, he eventually settled down across from you on the couch.

As you continued to gaze out the window, he watched you intently, about to say something when you interrupted him. "Is Miguel safe—my Miguel?"

He nodded silently, and you closed your eyes, letting out a breath. "I... I won't ever see him again, will I?" you asked, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked over at him.

"No," he answered quietly.

Closing your eyes, you felt tears streak down each cheek. "Why is this happening? Why—" you began, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

Miguel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at the spot above your head before his gaze settled on you, making it appear as though he almost looked down at you as he spoke.

"Every Spider-person's life is connected, woven together in this... beautiful web of life and destiny. It's called the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse," Miguel explained.

As you blinked in bewilderment, a look of pure confusion crossed your face. Miguel, looking annoyed, glanced away before sighing.

"Or... The Spiderverse, if that makes it easier," he muttered. "It's easier if we just—Ugh. Lyla, do the thing!"

[Huh? What thing?]

Miguel's stoic expression melted into one of confusion and borderline bewilderment. He shook his head, clearly perplexed, and turned to glance at Lyla, ‘’What- What do you mean ‘what thing?’ The information, explainy thing!’’

[Oh, okay!] Lyla responded.

As the blinds fall over the window again, you jump in your seat, and suddenly the room transforms from pitch black to a display of red laser-like shapes forming in front of you. The shapes resemble hundreds, if not thousands, of small webs, all interconnected. Each one takes the form of a small heptagon with tiny images inside, depicting various events. However, the images are too small to make out clearly, and Miguel mumbles something about it being easier to show in the "big room."

You lean forward, engrossed in his explanation. "These nodes," he points them out for you, "they're where the lines converge; they are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider's story, every time." You watch as Miguel leans forward, his eyes shifting from one node to another as he speaks.

"Some good..." He looks over at another node. "Some bad..."

"Some very bad." He stops at the node in front of you, his gaze shifting up to meet yours.

"That's how the story's supposed to go. The canon events are the connections that bind our lives together," Miguel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. "But those connections can be broken. That's why anomalies..." He looked away from you, his expression turning bitter, "are so dangerous."

"In universes where versions of us meet and become... close, our relationship becomes a canon event, an event that always has and always will end with one of us dying. You weren't supposed to survive in your universe," he explained solemnly.

"Do I always... die at the same time?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness and confusion.

"No. Sometimes you... we—" Miguel hesitates, searching for the right words, "Versions of us begin lives together. Some get married, some have children, and some... some die before even making it as far as you did," he says, bitterness evident in his voice.

"And now, because that story has changed, you have become an anomaly. Which means that if you return, your dimension will begin unraveling. And there is no stopping that," Miguel explains, his tone somber and resigned.

"What..." you say, distraught.

"It's what happens when you break the canon,"

"Then why... why am I alive? Why did you save me?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I... I found a way—a way to save you," he responds, his expression serious, but a hint of melancholic determination gleaming in his eyes, as if just speaking those words aloud was an act of defiance against some unfathomable force.

"How many other versions of me have you saved?" you ask, his gaze remaining on you for a moment before faltering, and he looks away, seemingly feeling ashamed.

"None. You are... you are the only one I could save," he admits.

You silently watch him, trying to process the weight of what he had just revealed, whether intentional or not.

"That's why you can't go back. If you break enough canons, we could lose..." He gestures, and you watch as nodes begin to crumble, causing the entire web to slowly disintegrate. "Everything."

"We...?" you question, seeking clarification.

Miguel let out a tired sigh, scooting forward and reaching for your hand. You flinched at his touch, and he looked up at you, his frown slowly softening as you held out your arm. He lifted your sleeve and showed you a small red spot, the mosquito bite you had gotten a few days ago.

"For you to survive, you..." He trailed off, his thumb running over the spot slowly. "There can only be one Spider-person in every dimension. If, for whatever reason, another person becomes one, then they also become an anomaly. At that point, one of the spider-people either dies, or the dimension itself collapses. Sometimes, it's both."

Your eyes meet as he holds onto your arm. "For you to survive, you had to become... an anomaly. Instead of you dying, you became an anomaly and then got removed from that dimension. Things change without tipping the scale, without breaking the canon."

"An anomaly... You turned me into a Spider-person?" you gasp.

Miguel silently watches you. "Not exactly... I injected you with—"

"Wait! So, Miguel could die? I mean, if there can only be one Spider-person, what if the universe or dimension or canon, or whatever it is, doesn't realize I'm gone? It could still kill him?!" you interrupt, your concern and anxiety evident in your voice.

[I have run hundreds of statistics, and so far, none show any dimensional rupture or damage. The canon has technically not been broken, only altered. The end results are still the same—only one Spider-man, only one of the two of you in the dimension.]

‘’This was just some test to you? You’re risking Miguel's life, my entire dimension because of what some AI calculated?!’’ You stand up abruptly, staring down at Miguel.

[Hey!] Lyla objects, clearly offended.

‘’As long as you don’t go back and interact with that dimension, it should be safe,’’ Miguel leans forward, looking up at you with a hint of a smile on his face. ‘’You were— are, a scientific miracle. A breakthrough never thought to be possible. However, if something does disrupt your dimension, it’s our job to try to fix it. We’re not always lucky, but—‘’

You leap over the small coffee table between the two of you, aiming for the collar of his suit. Miguel swiftly captures your wrists in his hands, holding you firmly in place as you glare down at him, tears welling in your eyes.

‘’You sick-‘’ you hiss, baring your teeth at him, your nails digging into his hands.

‘’y/n, you were going to die. If not you, then your Miguel would have. You can hate me as much as you want. I didn’t make the rules, you think I’d want this…?’’ Miguel's voice wavers slightly, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and desperation.

In that moment, the anger inside you clashes with a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and helplessness. You struggle against his grip, but Miguel's hold remains steady, as if he's trying to protect you from yourself.

‘’You should have just let me die,’’ you glare at him, and he looks at you, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘’At least then my dimension, my Miguel would have been safe.’’

‘’I... couldn’t...’’ Miguel mumbles, staring into your eyes, his own welling up with emotion.

‘’Why?!’’ you ask with tearful eyes, glaring down at him, your heart heavy with frustration and grief.

He watches you silently for a moment, his expression pained, before his eyebrows knit together, and he pushes you back against the couch, releasing your wrists as you fall back. ‘’No more questions for today. Lyla, get her something to eat. I have a headache.’’

You continued objecting, ignoring Lyla's attempts to distract you with food recommendations and takeout options. Your mind was consumed by the weight of the revelations, and the internal struggle left you feeling torn apart. Miguel eventually left, locking the door behind him, leaving you alone to process everything that had been revealed.

Unable to find solace in the chaos of your thoughts, you finally dropped down against the couch, pulling your knees up into a fetal position. The tears welled up again, and you cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking its toll on your body and mind.

---

In the following days or weeks – time seemed hazy in this new dimension – you settled into a monotonous routine. Conversations were rare, especially with Miguel. Sleeping on the couch, facing away from the room, you woke each morning to find a comforting blanket placed over you. Emotions churned as you grappled with the reality of being an anomaly here. Memories of home and loved ones tugged at your heart, while uncertainty and vulnerability clouded your mind

As days passed in the unfamiliar dimension, you grew closer to Lyla. Despite your attempts to ignore her, she proved to be persistent and engaging. She spent time with you, sharing stories and anecdotes, breaking through your emotional barriers.

During a conversation, you discovered that she had been "observing" you for quite a while. While it felt like stalking to you, she insisted it was part of her duties. After a two-hour debate, you agreed to disagree.

Lyla's presence became a source of solace in the disorienting dimension. She became a friend, easing the burden of being stranded far from home. In this vast multiverse, her companionship reminded you of the need for friendship, someone to confine in, someone to speak to.

She reminded you of Gwen…

[lostdrarryfics]

Hi, I’m begging for help!

I’m looking for a drarry fic posted on ao3. There Harry finds Draco working with magical creatures and he keeps coming back to chat and to help Draco, but he only later realizes that it’s not just a regular job for Draco as the Ministry took away his wand and holds him there as a punishment for his role in the war. When Harry finds out he tells Hermione and they try to save Draco.

We believe you are looking for Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w (76k, E)

Don’t forget to bookmark, leave kudos and comments!

[sitp-recs]

Come on then, top 5 hottest Weasleys in fic? 🦰🔥🙌

Hmmmmm 🌝🌝🌝 ok so sweets sent me this ask before I went and made lists for Charlie, Ron and Ginny so I checked with her if I could go crazy here and got the green light for a full unhinged Weasleys list 🔥

1. Ron: Dreaming Skies by @tackytigerfic and @sweet-s0rr0w is the only possible choice!!!!

2. Charlie: I’ve been dying to rec het smut here so I’ll go with the ultimate Uncle Charlie harem Sweet and Crafty, Soft and Sly by tamlane🔥

3. Ginny: Green Light by @sorrybutblog is such a light, feel-good and sexy Gin triumph!

4. Bill: like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered by @lqtraintracks kills me and @the-starryknight every time, in the sexiest, most heart-wrenching ways

5. Fred & George: there’s a twins/Draco dark fic by Lokifan that haunts me to this day, such brilliant characterization and hot af. Cw: non-con! I’ll sneakily add a shoutout to @writcraft’s gorgeous gorgeous Harry/George fic that hit me right in the solar plexus

6. Percy: tbqh I don’t care much for him in fic but I’ve heard great things about @fw00shy’s Percy/Pansy fic and @fluxweeed’s Harry/Percy fic here.

Should I….. also include Molly and Arthur 🌝

7. Molly: Lesson One by pauraque (Molly/Hermione) what can I say, I’m such a slut for their works!!!!

8. Arthur: The Lady by Dazzlious (Arthur/Hermione) no I won’t be taking any questions this time

[philgennuso]

Last Days #Nature #Haiku

Photo by Phil Gennuso Arts last days our beautiful maple each leaf that falls such sweet sorrow **************************8 last days for our red mapleeach leaf that fallsbrings such sweet sorrow

[brawley1492]

When we "Pass into sweet sorrow"

Do we enter into another "parallel dimension"?

Go to Heaven!

Or,

KNOW NOTHING? ... William

[lyrics365]

우리 조금만 더 걸을래 (Shall we walk together a little more)

neowa bonaeneun haruneun wae jakku jjalbajineunji aswiun neoui jip ap urin akkabuteo gunnait insareul mothaneun miryeonhan du saram garyeodeon gireul dasi doedollyeoseo useumyeo neol barabogo akka han insareul tto hago dasi hambeon neoreul kkok kkeureoanggo isseumyeon nae maeumeun tto tteollyeo uri jogeumman deo georeullae maju jabeun i soneul nogi sireo neowa hamkke deo georeullae oneuri…

[squash1]

hey book club, i love you!!!!!

so many good books recs (thank you thank you thank you) that now i don't know what to read first

here's a poll, vote for your fav (also a way for me to keep a list) 1-5 were on my trb already in case that matters :)

the poll is going to have to be 2 parts because tumblr thinks 12 options is enough?????

also if your rec isn't on here, its because i already read (&loved) it

ok book club <3 what are we reading that’s actually good and would maybe fill the trc shaped hole in my soul???? and don’t say reread. unless you say reread the dreamer trilogy because i’m so close to giving into the urge.

please. please. give me your suggestions.

as a frame of reference here are non-trc books i love & would recommend (different content, same soul):

watch over me by nina lacour

in memoriam by alice winn

under the whispering door by tj klune

these violent delights by micah nemerever

the anthropocene reviewed by john green

summer sons by lee mandelo

a tale for the time being by ruth ozeki

i need an actual book club but tumblr took away my group chats :(

anyway love you please give me suggestions!!!!!

[mishalogic]

A ladybird died today

and no one cried

passing of "sweet sorrow" for the little ones

gives Nature a reason to sigh

Ladybirds are lovely

when at rest, they are at peace with the world

A moment of quiet reflection

for the ladybird, a nice thing to be heard ... Misha

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Alas, this beautiful dream could not last.

[thelargefrye]

SWEET SORROW OF EVIL … series (21+)

CHAPTER ONE : ALL HAIL THE QUEEN | M.LIST

pairing : ateez x evil queen!f!reader

genre : mature, fantasy au, royalty au, angst, eventually poly relationship, dark

word count : 3.7k

warnings : language, ostracized (from family), kidnapping, weapons, murder / death, blood / body gore

co-author : @sanjoongie !!

she rules her kingdom well, sitting upon her throne, but what is a queen without her trusted advisor? what is a queen without making sure the rats stay in line? surely, even the queen has secrets that make her the most cursed of all.

You never understood why your siblings saw you as a threat. You, a simple child and youngest to the throne. And really... you'll probably never understand why, especially your sister. You can vividly remember her scowl that she always wore when looking at you.

She was always such a pretty girl, if it wasn't for that scowl and ugly attitude she had. You think she gets it from your parents.

"Ugh, get away from us, y/n! We don't want you near us!" your sister shouted before she harshly shoved you away from her and your brother. You let out a small grunt as you fell to the ground. The palms of your hands scraping against the dirt and uprooted tree roots.

"But why can't I play with you guys? You never let me play!" you wanted to know why your siblings pushed you away just like your parents.

Your sister let out an annoyed sound, like you should already know the answer for why she didn't want you around, "Because you're nothing but a freak. A monster," she answers as she crosses her arms.

You felt like shrinking away from her harsh stare. You wanted to disappear so you didn't have to hear her harsh words again. Carefully, you stood up and brushed your dress off. The palms burned from the scrapes from your fall, but you pushed the pain to the back of your mind.

"Mother and father should have just gotten rid of you, you bring nothing but shame to our family," she says and you feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes as they form at your waterline. No, you can't cry, don't let her see you cry.

You can't help but look towards your brother. He said nothing throughout all of this, just remained silent by your sister's side. Watching as she and your parents berate you. You could see he was conflicted about how they always talked down to you, but he never said anything. You hated how he was a coward like that.

"Why are you always so mean to me? You're supposed to be my big sister and care about me, not call me mean names!" You tell her and you see her look at you with surprise for a moment before her usual frown paints her face again.

She lets out another annoyed tsk before she's walking up to you, bending down slightly to meet your height. "Why would I care about a monster like you? You're nothing but a curse that stains this family."

You couldn't help the sudden rush of anger that flows through you. It all happened so fast with your sister's words continuously stabbing at your heart and your brother's pitiful stare. It was all too much.

So you shoved your sister harshly away from you and as hard as your ten-year-old body could muster. This sudden action took your sister off guard as she stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground. Her movements mimic yours from moments ago.

You also noted the loud tearing sound that accompanied her fall and all three of you noticed the large tear that appeared in her dress. You didn't have to say anything as your sister's screaming overpowered anything that you would have said.

"You fucking freak! You ripped my new dress!" Her shrill screams made you flinch and you noticed from the corner of your eye that your brother did the same thing.

"What in the world is going on here?" you felt a chill run down your spine as the sound of your mother's voice. Your blood ran cold knowing that this wasn't going to end well for you now that she was here. She would immediately believe what your sister said, because even though her words hurt, you would always be seen as a monster to your mother.

"Y/n ripped my new dress mother!" Your sister said, eyes immediately brimming with large tears. Fake, they were fake tears, yet they fooled your mother.

"What?" Your mother gasped looking at your sister with worry and then turned to you with a harsh scowl. Your sister is the spitting image of your mother. "How dare you rip your sister's dress! Who do you think you are?"

"B-but I didn't–

"Shut up!" She cuts you off with her loud voice and it makes you shrink away and into yourself. You hated yourself for being so afraid of her, but you had no other choice but to submit to her. She was more powerful than you and you knew what would happen if you disobeyed her. "Get out of my sight, child, before I punish you."

You didn't waste any time in turning on your heel and running in whatever direction would get you the furthest from your family. Tears filled your vision as you ran, making everything around you blurry and hard to see and before you knew it, you were lost. Lost in the garden maze with stinging palms and burning tears.

Rubbing your tears away, you took a deep breath before you made your way over to the stone bench that was nearby. Now alone, you couldn't help the thoughts that poured into your brain. You never understood why your family hated you, calling you a monster even though you have done nothing.

It just didn't make sense.

"Y/n!" you raised your head at the sound of your name. The voice brings a familiar feeling to your body as you feel your heart skip a beat. "Y/n! Princess!"

"Jongho!" you called back, hopping off the bench and walking towards the sound of your friend's voice.

Suddenly you felt an embrace wrap around you. Jongho held you as tightly as he could, his arms squeezing you and comforting you. The embrace felt nice and warm and you felt yourself tear up knowing that Jongho was here with you.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He asks when he steps away from you, just enough to look over you before he notices your scratched up palms. "Your hands," he gasps as he takes them within his own, "we have to get them treated!"

"What's the point, Jongho?"

"The point? Y/n, you're injured and need to be treated," he says, why does he sound so mature for his young age.

"When did you get so serious sounding, Jongho?"

"Since I decided that I will be the protector of your heart," he says, his face the most serious you have ever seen it. You couldn't help but crack a smile at his words, "Don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"Sorry, sorry," you say, still laughing, but you're suddenly cut off by Jongho hugging you again.

"I mean it. I promise you will never cry like this again. Not by your family and not by anyone else."

"Thank you, Jongho."

“Y/n, are you listening?” the sound of Jongho’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back to the present. You let out a sigh before you’re straightening yourself up on your throne. Your eyes settle on Jongho and the line of councilmen before the two of you.

“What did you say?” 

Jongho sends you a curt look before brushing off some invisible dust as he speaks again, “we wanted to discuss dates for your upcoming coronation.”

“Coronation? Jongho, I do not need something silly and insignificant like a coronation when I am already queen.”

“But your highness,” a councilman says before shrinking a little under your stare, “i-it is mandatory for the new ruler to have a coronation for it to be made official.”

“Are you saying that I am not officially queen, councilman?”

“N-no, that’s not what he’s saying at all, your highness!” another one spoke up trying to save his fellow councilman and friend. 

“What they are trying to say is that a coronation would make it more official, your highness. Let the country and all the other ones know that there is a new and better ruler for Illimité,” Jongho says, finally stepping in and not wanting the councilmen to it up more than they already have. He internally rolled his eyes at how they were basically shaking in their boots in front of you. 

“I still don’t think it’s necessary,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning further back into the plush cushions of your throne. You note it had to be replaced after… that night. Which is probably for the better since this throne is a lot more comfortable than the original one your father and ancestors had previously. 

“But think about it, my queen,” Jongho says, leaning closer to you so all your attention becomes immediately focused on him. His scent of paper and ink fills your nostrils and brings a calming presence in the otherwise tense throne room. “By sending invitations out, we can see who really supports you as Illimité’s queen.” 

“Oh?” Jongho sees the gears begin to turn in your head, and he knows that he’s got you. “Well… I mean when you put it that way, I guess having a coronation wouldn’t be so bad. But make the responses mandatory! Anyone who doesn’t respond within a week we will pay some personal visits to.”

Jongho lets out a chuckle at your words, “of course, my queen.” He then turns to the awaiting councilmen, all still wide-eyed and waiting for either him or you to give a command. “Begin making the invitations for the queen’s coronation.” 

The councilmen all bow before turning and filing out of the throne room, muttering to themselves and you find yourself letting your thoughts consume you once again.

All you could hear was your ragged breathing. You couldn't decide if it was because of your anger or your heartache. You tried to breath through your mouth because if you breathed through your nose, you were sure you were going to throw up. 

The only thing that brought you back to reality was a commotion outside of the doors that your magic had kept shut. It was muffled at first, voices getting louder and louder, until finally one clear voice cut through everything.

“Y/N!” Jongho cried through the door. “Let me in, let me see her!”

“We are not the ones keeping the doors closed, young Lord Choi,” a guard said on the other side.

You took a shaky step towards the doors, which felt like they were a million miles away, and then another. You slipped and yelped as you crashed into something slimy and foul smelling. You gagged and cried out, throwing it away from you.

“Y/N! What’s going on? I can help! Let me in,” Jongho cajoled from the other side of the door.

“Jong-jongho,” You cried out pitifully, “You can’t.”

“Please y/n, please,” Jongho begged, “It’s my duty.”

Your hands slipped in pools of blood as you attempted to stand up again. “Your duty is to a monster!” You screamed back.

You had just murdered your entire family. Part was planned, but part was by accident. If only--! You couldn't risk Jongho, you’d never risk Jongho. You’d stay in this nightmare of a throne room for the rest of your life if that meant you kept Jongho safe.

“You’d never hurt me, y/n,” Jongho shouted, “You and I both know that. Now let me in!” 

“Jongho…” You weren’t sure if the wetness moving down your face was blood or tears.

“I command it!” Jongho said courageously, although his voice sounded like he was worried, “I’m in charge of your heart so you have to listen to me, remember!”

Somehow you managed to stand up, stumble towards the large doors but couldn't pull them open; they were too large for you, especially covered in blood… “I can’t, Jongho,” You sobbed through the door, “I can’t!”

Jongho breathed in and out, his voice still coming from the seam of the doors. “You can do it. I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to the seam. You imagined Jongho coming through the doors, the wide, gummy smile taking up most of his face. He was your constant in a dark world alone. You needed light in this darkness right now.

You backed up and threw your hands up. You imagined the doors opening and then with a groan, they did. You blinked and threw up a hand to shield your eyes from the stark light. Then something hit you.

“Y/N!”

Jongho embraced you in a hug that felt like it broke your ribs but it was so genuine, so full of worry and love, that you accepted it and prayed that the monster side of you wouldn’t see it as a threat. Then, just as fast as he was on you, he put you at arm's length, eyes moving along your body, but there was too much blood to tell if you were actually harmed.

“We have to get you in the bath immediately!” Jongho informed you with a frown. 

You laughed bitterly. “I don’t think a bath is going to wash this all away, Jongho.”

Jongho’s frown eased as he sensed the underlying words in your sentence. “The only thing that needs to be washed away is the blood. You are the queen, after all.”

“You are the queen, after all.”

You shook your head to dispel your old memories. Something about today had really made you contemplative of what you’ve got through. Perhaps it was Jongho, who’s own life was so interlaced with your own. 

“I suspect that there are some that still see me as the sickly child that they only heard of,” You mused, eyes still on the rolling hills that sped by. 

Jongho’s lips pushed out and his eyebrows furrowed. “That was a lifetime ago. Even I practically can’t remember…” His words trailed off as he saw you hold your hands up, flipping them up and down.

Immediately, he grabbed them. “They’re clean, y/n. Even if they were covered in blood, they’re still clean.”

You sent Jongho a brief smile and then allowed your mantle of royalty slip back on. Your back straightened, your shoulders were back, and your chin up high. “Let’s hope Lady Danvers sees the blood.”

“That is, if she can spare a few thoughts for anything other than her dogs,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps that’s why she did not respond,” You mused, Jongho slowly but surely pulling you from your contemplative mood. “One of the doggos ate--”

A resounding boom that sounded nothing like thunder echoed through the carriage, halting your words. 

“What in the nine hells was that?” Jongho demanded. 

He stuck his head out the window but when you heard a scream, you grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled him back in. “Let the guards do their job,” You hissed. 

Riders whipped by and soon the carriage was slowed down. You gathered your magic around you, about to inflict walking nightmares on whomever dared attack you, when an arm shot through the windows on Jongho’s side and a knife appeared pointer at his neck.

“One wrong move and I slit his throat,” the bandit growled.

You felt all your magic drain from you, and all the blood from your face. You held up your hands in an act of showing you offered no harm, hoping nothing would happen to Jongho. 

“I'll do as you say.”

“Slowly now, old chap,” the bandit instructed.

Jongho stepped out of the carriage and all you could focus on was the knife at Jongho’s throat. You hadn't felt this helpless since before your family’s murder.

“You're going to deliver ten chests full of gold and jewels,” Another bandit said, drawing your attention. “We'll keep your advisor hostage until we receive our dues. Then, we'll give him back to you once we've carted away our treasure.”

“Alive,” You snarled.

“Alive, aye,” the bandit agreed. “So long as you don't follow us and try to murder us, your advisor will remain on this plane.”

Jongho began to struggle in the bandit’s grasp. “It's a trap, Your Majesty! They want you to appear weak. Kill them! Kill them all!”

You had to use all your control to not retaliate as blood appeared at Jongho’s neck. “Shut up and do as they say, Jongho.”

Jongho stopped at your command but his eyes burned still with suppressed anger on your behalf. Jongho would do whatever it took to uphold your image as the queen in control… even if that meant sacrificing himself in the process.

But you would never allow that. 

“I will bring you all that you deserve,” You vowed. “And you will return to me what is mine.”

Jongho's face became pink when your words sunk in. Good. Then perhaps he would truly understand that he was NEVER expendable.

“Until then.” The bandit swept his floppy hat in a bow and the other dragged Jongho backwards, fading into the forest around the dirt road you had been travelling along. 

“Your Majesty,” One of your guards approached, wincing at a wound at his side. “Are you truly going to give into their demands?”

“Of course not,” You replied simply. “But I will require you all to go back to the castle.”

“But--”

You held up a hand. “Leave two horses, that is all I need. But you will follow my commands to the letter. You’re not going to be very good guards if you die.”

The soldier saluted by pounding a fist over his heart and then he started to order the other’s to gather the injured and to leave two horses. 

Once they were all cleared out, you grabbed the reins of the horses and led them into the forest, following the bath of the bandits. It wasn’t hard; they left the forest a mess with broken branches and sliced foliage. Halfway you secured the horses to a low hanging branch and then began to discard your clothes. 

It was time to pull out your ultimate trump card: changing into the beast form you had been cursed with at birth. 

You bent to all fours on the ground, holding in your screams as your body transformed into a shape that was completely opposite of your human form. Your arms and legs elongated, as did your head. Your teeth became sharp and your human thoughts pushed to the back. You needed the animalistic brain to come to the forefront if you were to accomplish your task.

Once your cursed beast form was complete, you began to gallop the rest of the way. Your nostrils flared and you followed the scent of your prey now. Saliva began to drip from your lips. A red mist spread over your eyes, with only one purpose in mind: to kill. 

The first bandit didn’t see you coming. You simply impaled him on your horn with your head held low as you charged. You tossed his body to the side and he screamed. Other bandits stood up, unsheathing their swords at the first glimpse of attack. But quickly more were screaming.

“It’s a monster!” One man yelled.

“Stand your ground,” the bandit in charge bellowed.

But who had the nerve to stand in front of a raging, black unicorn?

You slaughtered the entire camp, almost as if you were creating the throne room after the christening of your powers. Blood sprayed the ground and the trees. Entrails and limbs were cast about as if macabre decorations. Not a soul was left alive, other than Jongho, of course. 

You carefully, cautiously walked towards Jongho, flanks shaking, and hot air escaping your nostrils in plumes of smoke. Your hoof pawed at the dirt right in front of him. Your monster brain knew he was important but your bloodthirst was barely simmering down.

“Y/N,” Jongho said softly, his hand level with the bridge of your nose. 

You whinied and shook your head. Some of your mane was matted with the blood of your prey. But you held still, waiting to see what he would do with that hand.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongho said, awe coating his voice. 

The hand landed on your nose and you allowed him to pet you and praise you. 

Slowly, but surely, as Jongho cooed at you, your bloodlust faded and your body shrunk back into your woman form.

You curled into yourself, shivering in the cool air. Jongho immediately removed his jacket and draped it over your form. You sat up and adjusted the jacket to sit on your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me,” Jongho commanded.

“We should get back to the horses,” You said gruffly. 

“My queen.”

Your eyes finally shot up and met Jongho’s defiantly. “What, Jongho?”

“Thank you,” Jongho said simply.

You looked away, unable to handle any other emotion other than retribution right now. You could not afford to become soft when you had nobles to interrogate in where their loyalties lay. That had been the whole point to this trip, after all.

Instead, you replied with. “Take care of my heart. I won’t be needing it for the time being.”

Jongho nodded astutely, reading between the lines. “Of course, my queen.”

Not once did Jongho insist that he carry you back to the horses and that is why he was the constant in your life. Jongho knew exactly when you needed him and exactly when he needed to step back and let you be the strong queen he knew you were. 

“May I suggest something?” Jongho asked after you had donned your clothes.

“That is your job,” You mused.

“We were to visit Lady Danvers and then Duke Foix. I know you planned on using all the pomp and circumstance of your army to arrive and show your queenly-ness, but I think arriving ahead of the appointed hour might allow us some insights to what exactly these nobles are doing,” Jongho laid out for you.

You mocked a gasp. “Why Counselor Choi, one would assume you are thinking of the very worst in Duke Foix’s case.”

A small, tiny, conspiratory smile pulled at Jongho’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“I suppose I could take this piece of advice under consideration,” You replied, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I am the Queen after all. All that’s required is my mere presence and my subjects should be impressed.”

“Precisely,” Jongho agreed, his smile becoming wider as your ego inflated bigger.

“Then we shall sneak across the border, into Duke Foix’s duchy, and see exactly what that old fox is up to,” You announced.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Jongho bowed formally and then swung his leg around to mount his horse. “To the Duchy of Foix.”

[creatingnikki]

It's about a week until Diwali. The year is ending and it may be the festive season but there is a sense of longing and nostalgia and sweet sorrow in the air.

I think of how I was spending this time last year. I think of you. I decide to respond to your texts from yesterday. It's not like I don't miss you or think about you. It's just — what even is the point?

Me: Hi, Happy Friyay! You: I'm stacked with work. Me: Okay, I'll leave you to it, then. You: Don't.

You ask me to stay and I ask why. You say you have something important to talk to me about. I sense it. That's not like you. I ask you to call me right away. And you do.

You're at work, in the office I would have been at too if I hadn't moved back to my city. It's raining — it's always raining in Bangalore. You say you have something to ask me. That you finally have the courage. But you're a bit afraid. I tell you to not be stupid and spill, it's me.

You ask, would you have dated me? I keep thinking about how lonely I am and how exhausting the dating process is. And my mind always comes back to you. I always had you. So, would you date me?

At 5:30 on a Friday evening as I am trying to wrap up work, I was not expecting to hear this. Of course, I have thought about it before. We are very different as people and yet, we are us.

I would have been open to the possibility, yes, I say, but not as an option because you're lonely and you don't have anyone else.

Are you mad? You are never an option, not as a friend, not as a lover, you say immediately.

And I sit through this unexpected call with you. Sensing your sadness, sensing your loneliness, sensing your need to always be strong and act like nothing fazes you because you are a 'man'. But you're leaving for home tomorrow, I know it's hard. It comes with its own set of worries and anxieties.

Last year, you and I spent the day and night together before you were leaving for home for Diwali. Now you say you wish I was here today too.

We joke about it, we always do. And I keep aside my feelings of being a filler girlfriend to you. The way you talk to me, how often you reach out to me, the comfort you seek, the tenderness you look for in me — I'll give that to you for now. As much as I can.

In a year or two you will get married to someone your mother chooses for you and then you will invite me to your wedding making jokes about how I must make sure to behave myself. And I'll be happy for you, I will. I never wanted to end up with you as a lover. We were never lovers, my love. We were never going to be. But I love you, my friend.

We wouldn't have to date to make each other happy or satisfied. Because even when no strings were attached you were always here. You showed up. You have never left. Neither have I. Labels or the lack of it are not an issue, I realize. It's always the actions, it's always time, that alone is the litmus test.

You have passed it. I never expected you to. In fact, I never necessarily even wanted you to. But now that it's been a year and now that you have, I see it. And I miss you. I hope before next Diwali we can meet and I give you that hug you keep saying you don't need because you joke about being a strong man (lol) but I know just how much you long to be held like you are precious and loved and seen. You are precious. I do love you. And most importantly, I see you.

[thiccpettybitch]

Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 2 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Okay, so it's been longer than I wanted – I'm sorry, lol. I ended up rewriting this chapter because I wasn't happy with it, and now I am, so... hopefully, you are too, lol! Also, I'm struggling with not rushing through it, but I want to get to the good bits, lol! Either way, I don't know what's next – probably Boxer Miguel or Ghost x Reader. We'll see! As always, enjoy!🥰

Two days had gone by, two days spent doing nothing but lying on that firm couch and gazing into space. Every now and then, you would sit up, your gaze fixed on the narrow gap in the blinds, letting a sliver of light filter into the otherwise dim room.

The idea of a shower and some food was almost enough to coax you into moving—almost. But no, you had already made up your mind; you weren't going to budge until... well... you weren't sure, to be honest. It's not like you had a clear plan. I mean, who gets kidnapped from their own dimension and then lands up in a futuristic world? You had no idea where you were or how on earth you were going to get back home.

Home… well, that wasn't an option. As much as you yearned for it, as much as the longing for your aunt, uncle, and... Miguel tugged at you, you just couldn't. There wasn't even enough energy left in you to summon a sense of guilt over it; after all, it was him you missed the most.

You felt so incredibly alone. Sure, Lyla kept you company, and those light hearted conversations were a nice distraction, but when night arrived, and you were left there in the silent darkness, staring up at the plain white ceiling, a heavy lump formed in the pit of your stomach. You'd toss and turn, close your eyes in a futile attempt to fall asleep, or try to shift your focus to something else, but it didn't really matter.

Your life and fate were completely out of your hands now. Everyone you knew, everyone you cared about, the life you were familiar with—it was all gone.

Your stubbornness aside, your bladder's insistence was hard to ignore. So, with a resigned sigh, you stood up and headed towards the plain white door that you were now pretty certain led to the bathroom. Just as you were almost there, however, Miguel suddenly appeared right in front of you. Caught off guard, you ended up walking straight into him.

He looked down at you not the least bit bothered by you quite literally smacking in to him, He looked down at you not the least bit bothered by you quite literally smacking in to him. You didn't bother looking up at him; instead, a string of internal curses flowed. Of all times, he had to stroll out of his bedroom right then. After you hadn't budged from the couch for a good two days, figures that the very moment you finally gave in, he would pop up.

Glancing between you and the door, he took a quiet step back. One hand remained hidden behind his back, while the other was extended in the direction of the bathroom. In a different context—where you weren't practically a prisoner and he wasn't your borderline kidnapper—it might have looked quite chivalrous. If only...

Without sparing him a glance, you strode past, only catching a glimpse of his movement from the corner of your eye. He seemed like he was about to say something when you swiftly shut the door in his face. To be honest, it was more about the imminent explosion in your bladder rather than genuine irritation. Both reasons were valid, but one was simply more... urgent.

Once done with your business, you went to wash your hands. In the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your own reflection staring back at you. You looked pale, with dark rings shadowing your eyes. Your nose appeared red and puffy—too much crying, not enough sleep, you thought to yourself. You attempted to tame some of your unruly locks as you glanced at your disheveled appearance.

"Screw it," you muttered.

You pulled your shirt over your head and discarded it along with your pants and underwear. Consequences be damned, you were having that shower even if it was the last thing you did! With determined steps, you entered the walk-in shower, casting a quick look around. Goosebumps prickled on your skin as you stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out how the contraption worked.

The sound of a tap at the door made you jump, causing you to quickly cover yourself instinctively, just in case the door might open. Though, of course, that wasn't a concern since you had already locked it.

‘’Do you… need help?’’

‘’I’m capable of using a bathroom, thank you.’’ It was the first time you had spoken to him in days and it came out just as venomous as you intended.

‘’The shower; it’s maybe different from what you’re used to. If you let me in, I can show you how it works’’

He sounded like he was trying to sound as calm and soothing as possible – the way you'd talk to a scared animal, letting it know you're not a threat. The image of him coaxing a timid, cornered critter came to mind, making you frown.

‘’I don’t want your help.’’

‘’I…’’ you could hear him sight on the other side of the door.

He mumbled something that you couldn't quite catch, and then suddenly Lyla appeared in the bathroom. She was away from you, floating in front of the mirror, engrossed in checking herself out. Regardless, you covered yourself, wearing a deep scowl on your face.

She leaned forward, pushing her heart-shaped glasses up to adjust her lashes, and then let them settle back against her nose.

[You gotta press the button, hold it in and turn the dial at the same time. Don’t turn it too much towards the red or you’ll burn yourself.]

You opened your mouth to tell her off but decided to just let it go, allowing yourself to relish the sensation of the water cascading down on you, the temperature just perfect. As you turned toward the mirror, your eyes squinted to shield against the water, only to realize that Lyla had vanished just as swiftly as she'd materialized.

Whatever.

You thought to yourself, closing your eyes and relishing how the water effortlessly washed away everything – the dirt, the grime, the fatigue. It all seemed to dissolve, vanishing down the drain. Using both hands, you ran your fingers through your hair, appreciating how the water flowed down your head and back. Shifting to the side, you reached for the nearest bottle within reach, bringing it up to your face to read the label. "Men's Care 3 in 1," you muttered, rolling your eyes. It was such a cliché.

After the much-needed shower, you stepped out, snatching a nearby towel and draping it around yourself. As you pondered, your gaze wandered around, and it hit you that this might be the first time you had ever been in a guy's apartment—well, maybe not the absolute first time. There was...

Shaking your head, you pushed away the memory and the accompanying ache. That wasn't what you wanted to dwell on. Instead, you strolled over to the mirror, a bit surprised it hadn't fogged up. But hey, maybe that was some sort of futuristic technology. Your attention shifted to one of the cabinets next to it, where a small pink bow was tied around the handle.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you swung open the cabinet and peered inside, only to find yourself gaping in astonishment. It was filled with... well, everything you could imagine needing, and then some. A hairbrush, a comb, an array of hairpins, both thick and thin hairbands, a still-packaged hairdryer that looked newly bought, creams, a toothbrush, floss, shampoo, conditioner, razors, toothpaste, a face mask, pads for day and night, and, quite surprisingly, a Ziploc bag containing... tampons?!

You grabbed the Ziploc bag and inspected it, your confusion evident. Holding it up, you almost seemed to hope that the bathroom light could somehow shed light on this mystery. Then, out of nowhere, a loud snort burst from you. Quickly, you clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the laughter. The mental picture of Miguel dashing into a random 7/11, swiping some tampons, and dashing out had invaded your thoughts. And there you stood, one hand clutching the bag, the other muffling your mouth, struggling to contain your laughter. The more you urged yourself to stop, the harder it became to control.

Oh god... laughter was such a relief. It engulfed you, a fleeting respite that lasted for only about five seconds before the guilt and pain resurfaced.

[Ooh, you found the stash!]

You scoffed, shaking your head in sheer disbelief. "The stash? The illicit tampon collection? Yeah, I found it, alright."

[Nice, I didn’t realize your dimension had banned them too]

Lyla said, hovering in front of you with her hands resting behind her head and her legs casually stretched out in front of her. It was as if she was lounging in a hammock, utterly at ease.

‘’Wait… you’re kidding right? These are actually illegal?!’’

[Yuuuup! We had a governor a few years back who ran this whole campaign about cutting down pollution. But you know what's funny? There were no changes to industrial emissions, plastic waste in the oceans, or those illegal chemical dumps. Yet somehow, they were all over female hygiene products. Go figure,] she explained with a roll of her eyes.

"Some things just never change, I guess," you scoffed, glancing at the bag and the assortment of tampons within it.

[Guess not. But you know what? That right there? That's like first-grade black market stuff! It's not something you just stumble upon easily,] Lyla quipped, a blend of amusement and disbelief in her tone.

Shaking your head, a small smile tugged at your lips. It was the sheer absurdity of it all that brought that smile, nothing else.

[You've got some fresh clothes in that cabinet over there. I was gonna go all out with the color selection, but SOMEONE vetoed that idea. So... enjoy the gray,] Lyla teased, a hint of playful irritation in her voice.

As you opened the cabinet, you extracted a set of gray sweatpants and a matching top. You motioned for her to give you some privacy to change, and she obligingly backed off.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you watched Miguel sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over and looking comically big for the small stool he sat on.

It felt far too soon to let go of the bitterness that still clung to you, thanks to, well... everything. What were you expected to do? Force a smile and offer gratitude for some "welcome to your new home" gesture? Act as though you were in a quaint Airbnb instead of trapped in a futuristic realm, compelled to leave behind everyone you cherished, with the added torment of being forbidden from ever reuniting with them – a decision that could potentially unravel not just their lives, but the very fabric of an entire dimension?!

Sigh…

Sauntering over to Lyla, you crossed your arms nonchalantly over your chest and leaned against the fridge. Miguel scooped another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, engrossed in calibrating something on his bracelet. He was so absorbed in whatever task he was focused on that he failed to notice the way your eyes were fixed on the bowl before him.

Noticing your gaze fixed on him, tracking the spoon's journey from the bowl to his mouth, he let out a sigh. Setting the spoon down into the bowl, he met your eyes, prompting you to look away.

"Want some?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No," you retort, practically turning your nose up at him in a show of defiance.

He rolls his eyes, shoving the bowl aside and getting to his feet. Without uttering a word, he leaves. He doesn't even spare you a glance as he strides out of the apartment, the doors sealing shut behind him.

You stand there, gazing into space in silence, holding your breath.

[Annnnnd he’s gone.]

With a sudden burst of energy, you lunge forward, snatching the bowl and hastily scraping up the remaining bits of cereal into your mouth. You chew with gusto, enjoying the sensation of finally eating something. However, a pang of discomfort in your stomach serves as a reminder that you can't keep up this kind of behavior.

Lifting the bowl to your lips, you tilt it back, savoring the chocolate-flavored milk pooled at the bottom. You don't mind the liquid that drips down your chin; in this moment, you're just enjoying the sensation of nourishment.

[Wow.]

"What?!" you hiss, hastily wiping your chin with the back of your hand.

[Really? You have to ask?]

You roll your eyes, taking the bowl with you and dropping it into the sink, not caring what becomes of it.

The room settles into silence as you move over to the couch, sinking into it and pointing at the TV expectantly. It springs to life as Lyla appears beside you, now taking on a larger, almost human-like form as she sits down next to you. Her judgmental side-eye feels like it could sear through you as you attempt to focus on the rerun of some futuristic sitcom.

"Oh my god! What?!" you exclaim.

[Nothing...]

Lyla continues to file her nails, her glasses sliding slightly down her nose as she shoots you a BOMBASTIC side-eye.

"What?" you press.

[It's just not your best look.]

"What, eating?!"

[Sloppily downing his leftovers like a starved dog, all because you're too stubborn to simply talk to him.]

"Oh my god..." you groan, your head falling back. "Spare me the lecture, would you? I'm not in the mood."

[Riiight, because you're such a joy to talk to normally.]

You hurl a pillow at her in frustration, though she easily flickers to another spot on the couch, inspecting her nails unfazed.

"You don’t get to judge me; you don’t know what it’s like-"

[I’m not saying this because I am judging you, y/n. I’m not on his side either. I’m saying this because I worry about you. You can’t keep living like this.]

You frowned, hugging the pillow you had attempted to smack her with closer as if seeking some comfort.

---

Another day slipped by, and you had spent it sleeping on the couch, much to your back's dismay. As you awoke, it was evident that Miguel hadn't returned the previous night. His bedroom door remained ajar, and there was no trace of any dishes either. Lyla materialized in front of you, her glasses concealing a judgmental expression. You found yourself in the kitchen, awkwardly scratching your upper arm, trying to figure out what to do next.

Lyla materialized beside you, casually leaning against the wall adjacent to the fridge. She was engrossed in typing something into her holographic phone, briefly looking up at you and then at the fridge, before refocusing on her phone. Why did she even need a phone?

After a sigh of resignation, you opened the fridge, only to be met with disappointment as its emptiness stared back at you. A carton of milk, some orange juice, a dozen chocolate bars, and a single pear.

"Really? He's got that physique, and his diet is chocolate bars and milk," you muttered in disbelief.

Sighing, you reached for one of the chocolate bars and closed the fridge door. But as you turned around, you froze like a deer caught in headlights. Miguel was standing by the front doors, silently observing you. His gaze moved from your head to your toes, his eyebrows knitting together. After a moment, he stretched his arms above his head before heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You and Lyla exchanged a knowing glance, and then she materialized on the couch, patting the seat next to her. As you sat down, you unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite, relishing the delightful combination of milky chocolate and hints of brownies. Clearly, the man had a sweet tooth.

After a few minutes of watching an episode of a sitcom centered around a group of friends sharing a living space, the bathroom door swung open. Miguel emerged, dressed in regular clothes for once – well, what passed for "normal" in this time period, you assumed. He yawned and ran his fingers through his damp hair, his gaze tiredly sweeping over to you.

You forced yourself to look ahead, avoiding his gaze as his footsteps retreated into his bedroom, the door closing behind him

Lyla shot you a mischievous smirk but remained silent.

You and Lyla spent the rest of the day quietly laughing along with the show, which seemed to keep going on and on. It had that "Friends" vibe, strangely not feeling too outdated. The bedroom door swung open, but you were too engrossed in the comedic scene unfolding on the screen to notice. A guy was hilariously fumbling with a chicken while attempting to shake someone's hand.

Your head turned as something caught your attention from the corner of your eye, a lingering smile on your face. It was Miguel, stepping toward the couch, as if he planned to take a seat. You went rigid, quickly snatching up a pillow as a sort of shield. The smile vanished from your face, and you pulled your knees up, feeling a sudden need to create some distance.

He halted, his gaze fixing on you briefly before he shifted his attention toward the kitchen. Taking a seat at the counter. The enjoyment and lightheartedness that had filled the air earlier now seemed to have dissipated entirely. In their place were a mixture of anxiety and discomfort. On some level, you were relieved he hadn't chosen to sit beside you. Yet, as you observed him perched there, occasionally glancing over at the TV, a pang of guilt tugged at you.

Over the course of about half an hour, you found yourself repeatedly sneaking glances at him. He remained engrossed in the show, his head propped up by his hand, wearing the same stoic expression. Nibbling on your bottom lip, your gaze shifted from stolen glances to unabashedly staring at him.

It’s not his fault.

I know.

He didn’t have much of a choice.

He took away my right to make a choice.

He saved your life.

By taking everything that made my life worth living.

You sighed deeply, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Say something.

Raising your eyes, you observed him—the flawless way his dark brown hair swept back, his high cheekbones highlighting his sun-kissed skin, the gentle curve of his nose, the way his thick eyebrows furrowed, etching deep lines onto his forehead, the fullness of his lips. It was uncanny how much he resembled him...

You had to avert your gaze, your cheeks flushed and a bittersweet ache forming in the pit of your stomach. That night, you found yourself crying yourself to sleep once more, clutching a pillow against your chest in an attempt to stifle the sound as best as you could. Unbeknownst to you, a shadow lingered in the doorway, quietly observing your heartache.

---

The following day greeted you with an unexpected sense of restfulness. As you sat up, a blanket that had been draped over you slid down your chest and pooled in your lap. It was odd – you didn't recall having it when you fell asleep.

Lyla materialized right in front of your face, causing you to flinch and then emit a groan. "Lyla, please... you're too energetic for this early in the morning."

[Pfft, it's three PM!]

"What?!" You glanced at the TV's time display, confirming that you had indeed slept in quite a bit.

Stretching, you got up and absentmindedly scratched your stomach as you strolled over to the fridge. Nothing like an overly sweet chocolate bar to kick off your day – or rather, your afternoon.

Swinging open the fridge door, you did a double take. Right there on a shelf above the chocolate bars sat a plate of quesadillas. Lyla floated next to you, her eyes widening.

[No way he made you food!]

Normally, you might have brushed it off, but this was different. This wasn't just some buttered toast. This was homemade Mexican ham and cheese quesadillas. You grabbed the plate from the fridge, using your foot to nonchalantly shut the door. With absentminded precision, you peeled off the protective wrapping and popped the plate into the microwave for about a minute and a half.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The cheese strings clinging to the bread were enough to set your mouth watering. You took a bite, and the combination of the pan-fried tortilla, melted cheese, and perfectly sliced ham was so satisfying that you let out an involuntary moan. Holding some of the cheese strings aloft, you slowly guided them into your mouth. Pairing the quesadilla with a glass of orange juice hit the spot so well that you reclined against the couch, rubbing your satisfied stomach.

"Holy shit, that hit the spot," you remarked aloud.

[Yeah? Maybe you should let him know that.]

You shot her a glare, which seemed to have little effect. She simply shrugged, flitting around the room before settling down next to you, joining in on the TV watching.

---

That night, you settled onto the couch just like the previous few nights, but there was a difference in the air. This time, you weren't just idly watching TV or killing time – you were waiting. Waiting for him.

Your gaze constantly flickered between the screen and the door. Every time you thought you heard a sound or caught a movement in your peripheral vision, your body would tense, and you held your breath in anticipation, only to let it out with a sigh of disappointment as the adrenaline gradually ebbed away.

Lyla had been bugging you about it, complaining whenever you didn't join in on her laughter at one of the jokes cracked by your favorite characters on the show. She incessantly flickered in front of your face, assuming new poses each time she reappeared – hands on her hips, exaggerated gestures, and all. You swatted your hand in front of you, as though trying to shoo away an irritating fly.

[What's going on with you?!]

"Nothing! Just stop!" you exclaimed.

[Are you not enjoying the show?]

"I am! I'm just..." you sighed, swatting at her as she popped up once more, "...can you please quit it?"

[Tell me! Come oooon~]

With a slight frown, you turned towards her, both of you locking eyes in a moment of mutual annoyance. You opened your mouth, ready to let her have it, when the sound of footsteps reached your ears. Both of you instinctively turned your heads towards the door, then glanced back at each other, panic subtly etched across your expressions.

Lyla resized herself to her normal form, hovering over your shoulder as you quickly sat up straight. You casually grabbed a pillow, doing your best to appear nonchalant, all the while ignoring the way Lyla's stifled laughter tickled your ear.

The two doors slid apart, and Miguel entered, tilting his head from side to side, seemingly trying to alleviate some tension in his neck. His movement halted when he spotted you sitting there, your gaze firmly locked on him with a sense of intense concentration, your eyebrows furrowed. He glanced at Lyla, his eyebrow slightly raised, only to find her giving him the same scrutinizing look. Both of you remained quietly fixated on him, as if you were deeply studying the man before you.

‘’There a problem?’’

Both of you shook your head at the same time, blinking in unison as you continued staring at him.

"Right... well, I'm gonna... shower," he said cautiously, his eyes narrowing.

He stared at the two of you for another moment before finally entering the bathroom, his gaze alternating between the two of you once more before he slowly closed the door.

You exhaled, sinking back against the couch.

[That was intense,] Lyla remarked.

"Yeah..." you agreed.

[Say... Why—why was it intense?]

"I... I'm gonna talk to him."

Lyla gasped dramatically, clutching a virtual hand to her chest, which elicited an eye roll from you. Despite that, a faint smile tugged at your lips.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door swung open, and Miguel emerged, clad in a pair of loose grey pants and a long-sleeved white shirt. A towel was draped over his shoulders as he methodically dried his hair while heading over to the fridge. He retrieved a bottle of sparkling water, one of the many new items that had found their way into the well-stocked refrigerator.

You observed him as he walked by, a sense of urgency building within you. It was now or never, you realized, trying to muster the courage to say something, anything.

‘’Can we talk?’’

You didn't look up; the sound of his bare feet coming to a halt was enough to make your breath catch. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you finally glanced up just in time to witness him turning around to meet your gaze, a surprised expression crossing his features.

He dropped down onto the other end of the couch, running the towel through his hair. You observed him, noticing a rare softness in his expression—there was a sense of calm and gentleness that was quite unlike his usual seriousness or irritation.

Your gazes locked, but your confidence seemed to evaporate, leaving you speechless. Words formed in your mind, yet they remained trapped, suffocated by a surge of memories—of Miguel, your aunt and uncle, your friends; recollections of being torn from your world, flung in to a portal, and marooned on a couch in the confines of a stranger's apartment. You were imprisoned in an unsettling blend of familiarity and strangeness, a puzzle that spanned the wrong world, the wrong time, the wrong dimension.

Fuck. This wasn’t going to work.

‘’Did you eat the Sincronizadas?’’

You nodded.

He nodded back.

‘’Did you enjoy them?’’

You nodded.

He returned the nod.

‘’Maybe… I could make some more, sometime.’’

You nodded.

He nodded back in acknowledgment.

After a few minutes, he clapped his hands against his thighs, using the motion to rise from the couch. He offered you a slow and awkward nod before turning and making his way toward his bedroom.

"I haven't forgiven you," the words slipped from your lips.

He paused in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder at you.

"I know," he replied simply.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you sank back against the couch, hugging the pillow to your chest.

[bakuliwrites]

As Astarion regains his autonomy, he learns to love all the things his body can do, both for others and for himself.

His elegant hands work needle and thread with ease. He's embroidered nearly every article of clothing he owns. And maybe if you ask nicely, he'll add some much needed embellishment to yours, too.

Can't open that locked chest? Don't worry, darling, he's on it. His nimble fingers make quick work of it. He plays it off as no big deal, but secretly likes it when you praise him for his efforts. Or, he makes a gigantic deal of your praise in the most obnoxious way possible, but deep down, he truly does appreciate it.

His silver tongue can draw from you the most sumptuous moans and the sweetest blushes, but also the most jubilant of laughter. He prides himself on his quick wit and is delighted when you provide him with the sustenance of banter.

He's lithe and swift. He can dodge volleys of arrows fired at him, deftly roll out of harms way, or dexterously slip from the grasp of his captors. He's a master with a dagger and bow. Watch him take down foes, left and right. He's strong. He can lift boxes, crates, barrels, you name it. Need help lifting something? Astarion can certainly assist (but not without some amount of whining).

His voice can be soft and sultry, like when he's reading poetry to you under flickering candlelight. It can be strong and commanding when he's defending himself or you. Firm when he needs to advocate for himself. You remind him to always advocate for himself, a notion he's only recently started to take to heart.

His eyes are keen. They can see in the shadows with utmost precision. He's observant, something he's had to be in order to survive. His excellent eyesight has come in handy many a time over the course of your journey.

He likes that his nose can pick up the scent of blood from a mile away. He likes how precise his sense of smell is when it comes to differentiating blood. He likes that his ears can pick up the faintest sounds. Centuries of living in darkness, of having to sneak about have helped him hone his senses.

He likes the way he can feel delightful tingles coursing through his veins when you run your fingers through his fine, silver hair. He likes the way the fine strands of snowy white curl over his forehead, tickle his skin when a breeze lifts them.

He likes the way you describe him. It's been so long since he's seen himself in a mirror, but your verbal (or literal) illustrations of him will suffice. He's edges and angles. Paleness, crimson, and silver. Ethereal. He's pretty and he knows it, but sometimes, the reassurance is much appreciated. Much needed.

Astarion likes that he can bring you pleasure. He likes that he can feel pleasure all his own when he's with you. He doesn't have to use his body to ensure his own safety. To guarantee that you won't harm or betray him. He likes that you don't ask him to do anything he doesn't want to.

Astarion loves his body. He loves how strong it is. How swift, how fragile, how durable it is. He loves how hard it works for him. Astarion's body is his and his alone, and he loves this.

[zillychu]

woke up from a dead sleep last night realizing I could make soroku flavored pitch pearl and no one could stop me

edit: you know what? I'm feral and I won't apologize. more under the cut bc this is my house

I slammed this out all at once so I apologize for the quality but I'm having EMOTIONS

so imagine. bc of the way Danny was quickly resuscitated, his ghost only barely started forming. With the excess blast of ectoplasm from the portal being created, that little whisp was given form even after Danny's soul returned to his body.

except this ghost (Phantom) slowly comes into consciousness while trapped in Danny's body. they're separate entities sharing one body, but Phantom doesn't really have a sense of self right away. he pieces together vague fragments of Danny's memory to get a basic understanding of the world, and is mostly just observing like a backseat passenger.

Phantom starts reflexively protecting Danny, his powers and instincts bleeding through when his emotions are high. Danny doesn't really transform, and his personality doesn't totally shift that much at first because Phantom’s mind isn't complex yet. but as time goes on, and Danny has tense conversations with ghosts, Phantom realizes that's what he is. he's a ghost, somehow trapped in his old body. and even now, this early on, he already feels separate. he doesn't have all the memories Danny has.

this slowly turns into horror. into rage. sorrow, mourning a life he never got and will never get to have. forever trapped behind the eyes of someone else, never able to interact with the world. Phantom's rage eventually boils over until it allows him short bursts of taking over Danny's body. it starts out small–a stray hand moving without his consent, knees locking up, ghost abilities going awry. Danny can start feeling emotions that don't belong to him. get vague impressions, almost hears a voice inside him.

and eventually, Phantom is able to fully take over. this is when Danny “transforms". at first, Danny blacks out because his consciousness isn't used to being shoved into the back seat. but eventually, he's awake for these “episodes", trapped in the back of his mind while Phantom controls his body. this only happens when ghost stuff is happening, when Phantom feels threatened enough. he's not protecting Danny, he's protecting himself. Phantom knows instinctively that if Danny dies, he dies too. he's not a normal ghost, he wouldn't be freed. he'd simply disappear.

at one point after a fight, Phantom can feel Danny struggling to take back control. and he talks to Danny for the first time, acknowledges he's there. asks how it's fair that Danny is the one that gets to exist. but Phantom is tired and weak, he slips back into the passenger seat.

over the next few days, he's able to start talking to Danny even while he's not driving. though he's not chatty, it's only when necessary. and Danny knows, can feel it across the link between them–Phantom hates him. the ghost he created is desperate to find a way to take over completely. and as time goes on, Danny realizes with horror that it might actually be possible for Phantom to do that. he grows stronger every day, can stay transformed longer, controls Danny's body with much more ease.

it's only through a chance meeting with Frostbite that Danny and Phantom fully learn what happened to them. Danny feels sympathetic towards Phantom now. this isn't a malevolent ghost, it's a person who was never given the chance to live. who's trapped. who has to watch someone else live a life they're just as deserving of.

and Phantom feels that emotion from Danny. is so shocked by it, he doesn't know how to handle it at first. it takes him a while to contemplate, to talk to other ghosts like Frostbite. until one day, Phantom realizes… he feels sympathy for Danny, too.

neither of them asked for this. both of them deserve to live. Danny didn't do anything wrong. they're both villains to each other's story. and if anything… doesn't Phantom owe his life to Danny in the first place?

Phantom takes over less often. Danny doesn't feel hatred from him anymore. anger, yes–but not aimed at him. in fact, Phantom starts controlling their body in little ways in order to protect Danny from things that aren't even dangerous. just to avoid pain that would only affect the human tethered to him.

it isn't long before they're separated, either thanks to another ghost or Danny's parents. they're thrown apart in the middle of a horrific fight, and when Danny sees Phantom's equally shocked expression, he's terrified.

this ghost that hated him for so long–at best, Phantom would leave him defenseless. at worst, surely some part of Phantom still wants to kill him for stealing away his chance for autonomy.

and yet, when fire rains down on them, Phantom risks it all to grab Danny and get them both to safety. they're still both shaken and stunned this is even happening, but Phantom is able to nervously be like shit shit shit okay stay here don't go anywhere or I can't protect you, okay?

after the fight is over and dust settles, Phantom offers Danny his hand. they stare at each other and god if this isn't the weirdest thing. like, uh, okay, what now? they decide to go see Frostbite, who confirms that they're fully separate now. they ask if there's any chance of merging again and Frostbite assures it's impossible.

Phantom asks, even if I overshadowed Danny? or stay real close? yes, it's nothing to worry about. they leave, and back in the quiet of Danny's room, they talk. Phantom isn't sure what to do. now that opportunity is in front of him, he feels paralyzed. Danny does his best to let Phantom know that… they might be separate now, but if he ever wants help or even just a friendly ear, he's here for him.

Phantom is quiet for a while. then says maybe he just needs to rest first. he'll think about it tomorrow. they're both exhausted and injured. Phantom asks quietly… if he could rest in Danny for the night.

Danny's shocked, and–really confused. Phantom blushes and is like I don't know what my haunt is yet, I don't know where to go, but I know… you're kind of my home. now that I know I can leave whenever I want, it's not something bad anymore. I miss feeling your heart next to my core, just a little bit.

and Danny is just as surprised when Phantom overshadows him, then quietly nestles into the passenger seat again. he didn't realize how he got used to feeling Phantom with him. it's a feedback loop of contentedness, and Danny sleeps easily. (they also find out while sharing a body, Danny gets to reap the benefits of Phantom's supernatural healing)

anyway that's all I got for now thank u for coming to my ted talk

[iristial]