fic where several of the gods conspire to recruit Eros to compel Zeus and Hera to fall in love once more to save their marriage. why? use your imagination. they go through with their plan, both Zeus and Hera are struck with an arrow as they gaze into each other's eyes.
and nothing changes between them. nothing. not even the slightest change in the tension between them, the way they look at one another, the way they speak of each other, or even how affectionate they are. and surely it somehow didn't work, right? ...right?
hey guys i haven't even had a chance to see atsv yet i just know spoilers and i want this man biblically, i'm talking carnally, i want him in a way that hurts feminism, i want to bring the whole damn movement down so i can be his stupid little housewife and raise his damn kids so i can watch him be happy and then also get railed into losing every brain cell i have
anyway here's some abo headcanons, they include spoilers for the movie/his backstory probably because idk what is and isnt a spoiler because i havent seen it yet.
also this one works a bit differently than my normal layout, it goes SFW and then dips NSFW and ends with more SFW but they're all clearly labeled!
Reader is written gender neutral with they/them and the nsfw section has afab and amab sections, but since I'm Nonbinary and AFAB that's probably how it's gonna come off for most of the reading, just to warn you!
Miguel O'Hara x Reader N/SFW ABO Headcanons
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5k words
Content Warnings (tell me if I miss any): Dubcon, ABO, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic behavior, Omega reader, Alpha Miguel
For these headcanons we're gonna exist in a weird liminal space where Gabi is like, five to six or so and he brought her home with him or some shit idk man I just think he's a hot single father anwyay, also this is assuming omega reader because i think it's hot
if anyone wants a version where Miguel follows more canon and he still lost his kid and came back you're free to request that too i love that shit, just for this specific one i wanna raise his damn kids so-
SFW
Alpha, big alpha energies.
Miguel is the type of guy who's pretty obsessive with what he claims as his, I would honestly say borderline yandere vibes without fully delving into it - his mental state in this au/situation is also a lot better since he still has his daughter, so he's genuinely a lot less "feral" than he tends to get without her, even though in this we'll say he did almost lose her.
So when he claims someone, he's going to be damn sure he means it.
This ones a bit of a general headcanon but he doesn't really have a type when it comes to the people he likes, other than he needs someone who's interesting to him. Whether it's because you're hotheaded, or even keeled, whether you're snarky or sweet, he just needs something for his brain to latch onto.
Not a love at first sight guy but he is an "obsession I can't place" kind of guy.
Miguel has really enhanced senses when it comes to scenting, so it takes some damn strong suppressants and scent blockers to completely block him out... which if we're pretending reader here is falling with the abo trope of "hiding being an omega" (which we are because I love tropes) is just what gets him obsessed. Clothing and perfume that masks your scent, suppressants and scent blockers, and a confident attitude are all enough to throw most people off the (forgive my pun) scent.
But not Miguel.
His spider DNA has the animalistic side to it that fucks with his hormones regardless, makes it easier for him to pick up on the pheromones that even most attentive alphas can't, he's damn near a personal lie detector with how smart he is and how attuned he is to what his nose and instincts tell him, even when he's using serums to keep the more feral urges at bay.
He can only get a whiff of you, fainter than most betas, and it drives him fucking insane knowing he can smell something but he can't figure it out. He can't place it, and it nags at his brain. He can smell a whiff of flowers, or sugar, or something undeniably citrus (depending on what you headcanon your own smell to be) but he can't place it and he hates that shit.
Ends up pulling some traditional alpha shit and he can't even help it, starts trying to crowd you until you kick him in the shin or Peter B or Jess shoos him away. He has to figure out what it is, he has to know.
It only gets worse when he brings Gabi in (a babysitter fell through) and you end up butting your way in to play with Gabi and Mayday, delighting in watching them for the day instead of whatever you were supposed to be doing. They're both so cute and sweet.
Gabi smells primarily like cinnamon and a bit like dewey grass - she's not old enough to have presented yet, but her basic scent, unaffected by the secondary gender hormones, is simple and sweet, reminds you of a summer morning.
She takes after her father in that regard - Miguel smells *warm* and a bit musky, like trees and cinnamon and, a bit like a camp fire. A small tinge of oil, when you pick it apart, and you can't tell if its from the lingering scent on his skin after fixing a broken machine nobody else could, or if that's part of his natural scent.
(Mayday smells like marshmallows, and carmel, funnily enough)
When you take care of Gabi and Mayday, your scent lingers on their skin, mixes and twists in a way that Peter B can't notice but Miguel can. It's all he can do not to be a damn freak and pick his baby girl up and sniff her hair to try and figure out why she smells like that (not in a creepy way, to clarify because there are some freaks on here, but in the same way a dog gets baffled by smelling you use a new perfume, or in the way of when you pick your kid up and go "WHY DO I SMELL CANDLES ON YOU WHAT WERE YOU DOING")
He almost can't stand how his head swims when he watches you pick Gabi up and gently throw her up in the air a bit, watching you let her climb onto you while you're distracted just like Mayday does. Soothe her tears when she accidentally breaks a toy because she's still learning to control her super strength.
He doesn't know that he wants you either, not until long after he's already manifested feelings. Doesn't realize how protective he is, doesn't realize how differently he treats you. He doesn't realize he's lingering in your area just long enough to make sure he can fill his nose with the faint scent you give off.
He assumes you're a beta - not that it mattered to him, really. Miguel would just as soon marry another alpha as he would a beta or an omega, as long as it's you.
He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got a piece of your clothing in his hands, holding it in the dead of night up to his nose. A scarf or a glove or a jacket you'd leant to Gabi during the day and she'd spilled her juice on it and he'd taken it home to wash it.
He can smell his daughter's scent, louder than life, so familiar he could have a handful of pepper thrown at him and he'd still be able to wrap his arms around her and move her out of harm's way in the direst of straits.
And then there's yours, linger, mingling with his daughter's scent, and it's the parent of his child.
It's not, it's not the woman who birthed Gabi, it's not the woman who contributed to making her. It's you, the only other person he ever wants near his child in that capacity. And it's intoxicating. It's infuriating. It's overwhelming because the full breadth of his own emotions is so strong as he realizes what he's been doing. And he can't even tell you because he holds himself to a specific standard, a specific code of ethics, and even though he wants to risk it all just so his hindbrain (both alpha and spider and his own human instincts all mingling in one) can have his little loves all wrapped up in his arms, safe where he can protect them.
He only just has the strength to wash the piece of cloth and return it. It takes everything he has not to cling to it, to make a pretty little nest to protect his family in, webs and pillows and fabric, a basis of protection so you can properly make it your own and -
He controls himself, and returns the scarf the next day, leaving it on your desk because he can't bear to look you in the eyes.
The days struggle by, a stark contrast to his normal snark, to lingering in your space and snorting and rolling his eyes. To being by your side more than he normally is. It's disheartening, it makes you feel rejected, and he knows it.
But he doesn't stop, this tension that can cut through the air lingering. Even Gabi and May notice it, the older girl frowning and the younger fussing when the two of you are in the room together.
And then your heat happens.
(brief bullet point break because there's a limit to how much you can have in one bulleted section on tumblr and I don't remember what it is but I'd rather just break here)
You've been on suppressants and scent blockers for years now. Being in your line of work (whether you headcanon this as a spiderperson version of you, or a different kind of superhero, or a civillian all working in the society) it's necessary. Omegas aren't rare but they're not the majority of the population like betas are. In Nueva York, it's a coin toss if you'll be fought over in the streets like some prize to be won, or if you'll be coddled like a child who can't figure out what's best for them.
It's half safety half preference at this point, from your original universe's standard (before it had burnt to cinders before you), and this one's. Your suit, your meds, and your behavior, they're all meant to mask and confuse.
But you can only make it so long on the prescription you've got, the long-lasting shots that were more reliable than a pill. The scent blockers go first - not by design, but by chance. You'd been giving yourself lower doses since you'd wound up in Nueva York, supplementing it with deodorants and lotions swiped from stores and hospitals that could afford to spare the supplies when you can't buy it covertly. But you'd still been low in comparison to your suppressants.
You shower more frequently, lather yourself with soaps and deodorants and lotions of different scents and ones that have blocking effects, and for the most part it works. You can't quite fool Gabi - too smart, too tuned in to your emotions like her father could be. She's got a sharp nose, and she wrinkles it when she can smell how confusing your scent is. She asks questions, and you can't lie your way out of it, but you are able to bribe her so she's distracted long enough that she forgets the question. Miguel notices, when he picks up Gabi, but he can't quite figure out exactly what's wrong, and you leave so fast (he assumes with the tension that lingers between the two of you) that he can't figure it out.
You're so certain you're in the clear.
But then your shots run out, and even you can't get more without a prescription. And while your health information would never go through Miguel, you know that the medispiders have to go through him or Lyla for any heavy duty things like suppressants, because they have to be resourced more carefully.
And your last doctor, although wildly shady, and incompetent, and operating out of an apartment, was right about one thing - suppressants will rot you from the inside out if you're not careful. If you don't let a natural heat occur, it will only be worse in the long run. (Although you suppose he probably had a greasier, grosser reason for telling you that.)
And rot you from the inside they have - all your natural reactions to a heat, all your normal bodily functions don't work properly, when confronted with something they haven't seen in years. You know within seconds of your suppressants flushing out of your system what's going on. You're still in the pre-heat phase of things, and you feel like you're dying. You aren't, and you know you aren't, but you feel nauseous and feverish and incoherent within an hour tops. Only long enough to let you panic and send a text to Miguel that you can't watch Gabi like you'd planned. That you're going out ad you won't be back awhile. You leave your phone in your room, when you pack your bag and head for the nearest somewhat reputable hotel that you can afford. You brace the door with the dresser, explicit instructions left for the front desk to, under no circumstances, contact you for the next week.
You get an order of pre-made meals to slap into the fridge, water and juice and all sorts of drinks and things shoved haphazardly inside once the bot brings it in through the window. You're barely coherent enough to retain control to crush the landline, rendering it inoperable, before you barricade the rest of the room.
You're definitely not in control when you nest, blankets and pillows and clothing all thrown haphazardly around as you go fully out of your gourd.
You're damn well out of your mind by the time you would have normally realized the card you were using was in Miguel's name.
(another very brief line break in this portion for drama but also so I don't hit any limits)
Miguel is pissed when you leave so suddenly.
Sure, he's been avoiding you, and sure, you aren't actually together, but you're his damn it. You don't know it, and sure, he's not going to acknowledge it out loud until something happens, but you can't just leave him and your child and his child who loves you high and dry like that!
It's laughably easy to find you, to find the hotel you've checked into. He doesn't even wait to figure out the reason you left, he's so quick on his honestly kinda toxic bs.
Gabi is left with Peter B and Jess for a bit, and Miguel is honestly so smug that he finds you so fast. You were so sloppy about it. So quick to leave that even though you left your phone behind, in a moment of clarity, you barely bothered to take back streets. You used his own damn card he'd given you to pay for the hotel for two weeks, and to order food.
If he weren't half out of his mind with concern and anger about how quickly you left, he'd be angry you used the card without asking like you normally did.
(His hind brain purrs with it though, knowing he's provided for you)
He doesn't know what did it. Miguel genuinely doesn't know what he did to earn your ire in such a way, but he can guess. He doesn't think it's how cold he was, in the beginning, but he isn't sure that it's not how he'd warmed up to you. How, when he'd let his guard down without realizing it, that he'd flirted with you. Had that made you uncomfortable? Had every 'innocent' brush against you turned you against him? Certainly, it could be his absence, his sudden coolness and stonewalling. It could be how he refused to look at you, when you were in the room. Tried to hold his breath after he'd realized what he was doing.
He doesn't really listen to Lyla when she tries telling him things. He heard where you where, found out the room, and swiped a key before Lyla could finish talking about vital signs and behaviors. She knows to set his alerts to emergency only for the foreseeable future, because she's figured it out much quicker than he has, and she figures she'll at least spare herself the trouble. Gets Gabi set up with Jess for the night, and is on her way so she doesn't have to deal with what's about to go down.
He's surprised by the dresser in front of the door, when he tries to get in the first time. It's easy for him to move - he just lowers his center of gravity and pushes his way into the room, slamming the door shut before he can inhale.
The hotel room is nice, with a kitchenette and a small entry area with a couch and a television. The bedroom is just tucked out of sight. Exactly what he expected when he'd heard the hotel's name - he'd never been, but he recognized it.
And it's when he inhales, that he realizes why.
Your scent hits him hard and fast, chokingly sweet in the back of his throat in a way that makes his hindbrain roar. His pupils blow wide, and if he didn't have such a strong self control, he'd have torn the damn door off its hinges looking for you.
He remembers, in that moment, why he recognized the hotel. It was one that was best known for its handling of customers in heat and rut.
NSFW INTERLUDE
(We're gonna start with general headcanons and go back into the specifics of the scenario in a sec but it's all relevant fjasdkl;)
Miguel is a Dom-leaning switch, he prefers to be in control as often as possible, regardless of whether he's topping or bottoming. Nine times out of ten, he wants to fuck his partner until they're an incoherent, babbling mess, because he enjoys the power and control it gives him, enjoys the dynamic of it.
As he gets more comfortable with a partner, he's more willing to accept the idea of subbing, enjoying it more when he has someone he trusts behind the wheel, so to speak.
(Because yes, Alphas can be subs too - that's a whole thing I could get into and might if someone asks)
And Miguel, even normally, is already a possessive guy. He's needy, and stakes his claim, and when we're talking about abo Miguel?
Sheeeeeesh
The moment he scents you in the air, the moment it clicks in his brain that you're going through a rut or a heat, it goes straight to his dick.
He damn near loses it, fighting not to tear the door off its hinges as he stalks to your room. Your scent is so strong in the air that even though he knows he should turn around, he still at the very least wants to make sure you're okay. So the sight of you, face down, ass up, fingers pressing into yourself, he almost loses his damn mind.
His pretty little wife/husband/spouse coworker, his crush, is an omega. It's almost too good to be true, and he can feel his fucking fangs extend, his mouth watering as he stares at you. You're too blissed out to even realize he's there, slick dripping down your thighs like a fucking faucet... and his name is on your lips.
He could cum untouched, could die a happy, happy man after seeing this.
He has dignity, and self control though, even as the force of your hit heats him. He's genuinely concerned, a moment later, his instinct to breed to claim tampered down by his need to care.
You cling to him, hazy, feverish, and incoherent. You beg him to claim you, to mark you, to fuck you. Miguel wants to, he does... but he instead kicks his shoes off but otherwise stays fully clothed, his cock so hard it hurts as he grabs the closest bottle of water, and an ice pack, and climbs into your haphazard nest with you. He probably should have left by now, but instead he seats you against him, your back pressed to his chest, and he presses the ice pack to your forehead, ordering you to keep it there as he makes you drink water, sip by sip.
You whine, and beg, and squirm, but you obey.
He fucks you on his fingers, once he's gotten some water into you. Hard and fast, leaving you breathless, tense, until you cum all over his fingers, oversensitive as he fingerfucks you into another one, and another, arms like steel wrapped around your waist as one hand pounds into you, the other wrapped around your dick or circling hard on your clit. It's not enough to genuinely sate your heat, but it's enough to help. And he doesn't trust himself to put his own mouth to use - barely trusts himself to speak, even though most of what he growls into your ear is, strictly speaking, complete and utter nonsense as he's caught in the moment. Every time you cum, he praises you, telling you how good you are for it. How sweet you look, with tears streaming down your face, cumming so well for him.
When there's enough coherency for you to have a conversation (but not coherent enough to be mortified), Miguel is able to get the rough gist of the situation. He really can only piece together that the heat is going to be a strong one, that it came fast, and that you had panicked. There's a confession, to be had there. He agrees to help you through your heat, but only under the condition that you're his.
It's toxic, and of dubious consent at best, but he'll pull as many orgasms out of you as needed to keep you coherent enough to talk to him. He's helped an omega through a heat or two, and he knows what he's doing. He's not exactly clearheaded himself, in making the decision - but he does make sure that this is truly what you want before he proceeds.
When he's sure that it's not just the heat speaking, that you truly do care for him, that you want him to stay even after your heat has subsided, he allows himself to indulge.
Sympathy ruts are common, and it builds slowly inside of him as he indulges in his instincts. Holding you, kissing you, pressing his fingers inside of you over and over and over again until you pass out. He keeps you wrapped up in the nest, adding his shirt to the mix while you sleep, but not trusting himself to completely strip quite yet.
Miguel is an attentive alpha.
(While you sleep, he excuses himself from the nest to call his daughter, to assure her everything will be okay, and he just explains simply that you'd gotten sick, that you needed him for a bit, and that he'd be back once you were feeling better. He promises to call every night, and he works out a schedule with Peter B and Jess in the meantime.)
(When you overhear him, voice so soft, so protective, so gentle, it half makes you want to swoon, and half want to climb on his lap and fuck yourself stupid on his cock until he fills you up so you can give his daughter a sibling.)
This man is going to spend a good majority of his time pre-sympathy rut fucking you open on his fingers and his mouth. He wants to make sure you're ready, wants to make sure he can enjoy this for as long as possible.
By the end of it, he makes sure to fuck you, nice and steady, a hand on your throat and his lips on yours. He makes sure you're nice and coherent for it. He wants to make sure you remember it, when he claims you. When his (fucking horse cock, the dude's packing like ten to twelve inches which is great for my chubby bitches like me) dick fills you up so full that you're almost certain you'll break, hiccupping and sobbing as you keen and wail, the nest below you soaked as he fills you up. His fangs sink into your neck and you cum, right then, his hands grabbing your thighs so hard he's sure it will bruise. He fucks you through your orgasm, knot catching until it slips inside. He rubs your clit/tugs on your dick as he finally knots you, making sure you cum just one more time for me, cariño.
normal Miguel definitely has a claiming and breeding kink, so it's fucking intensified by ten when he's omegaverse Miguel... let alone when the man's subject to his rut. You'll be covered in scratches and bites and hickies by the time you're both coherent enough to function properly again.
Which... for Miguel, is a solid few hours of coherency at a time.
For you? You're only ever coherent in short bursts, and it's like the peak of your heat constantly for almost the full week.
This next bit just mostly borders on nsfw/has some nsfw parts so i'll put it at the end here before going back to sfw
Like I mentioned before, Miguel is a very attentive alpha.
He's going to fuck you seven different ways in an hour with his superhuman stamina, but he's also going to make sure to actually take care of you.
He makes sure you drink electrolytes and water in equal measure, makes sure you eat, and sleep, and he bathes you himself, carrying you into the shower and keeping you pressed against him as he massages your muscles and washes your hair and body with a soft cloth, using completely unscented soaps and shampoos so it doesn't overwhelm you. Presses bandages to your scrapes and bites so you'll heal faster. Cool cloths and ice packs and fever reducing medicine.
He finds he has to bribe you, during this time, even for the most basic tasks like eating and drinking, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having to plug you up with his cock just to get you to eat wasn't hot as hell. The fact that you need him so badly you'd rather forgo basic necessities... it's addicting. Granted, he doesn't actually let you - he's got enough control that he can make sure you're taken care of in all regards.
Back to SFW time!
After your heat itself passes, you're subject to the suppressant sickness that comes with it. Your fever has broken, but you're still nauseous and dizzy and fatigued as your body flushes everything out of your system.
Miguel is beyond pissed when he finds out why you're still sick.
It's reckless to not even have a natural heat once every six months, let alone taking your suppressants so solidly that you hadn't had one in years. If he'd known, he'd have said consequences be damned and would have bitten you the moment he walked through the door, and taken you to the hospital.
He doesn't care how embarrassed you are, when he packs all of your things back up into the sealable bags, and dresses you in his own clothing. He's almost out of his mind when he takes both of you back to HQ - only just remembering to take back corridors to the medic so they can check you over properly.
You've then got two spider people who are pissed, as the medic rants about how dangerous that was, how stupid it was that you did that, instead of just swallowing your pride and letting them help you control things. They order you on house arrest for a full month, to make sure your body can recover properly. No suppressants, no scent blockers (at least the medical kind) for a couple years, and only medicine that's medically necessary, and even then it has to be monitored more carefully.
Miguel lets the Medispider tear you a new one for a moment while he steps into the hallway, giving you privacy and space to figure things out with the doctor while he catches up with Gabi.
When you're done with the Medispider, it's not a question on if you're staying with Miguel or not - you really don't have a choice in the matter, he tells you. When you're recovered, you can decide if you want to move in or not, but until then he was going to personally keep an eye on you.
Gabi, who lacks the complete understanding of the why and the how behind it all, is just glad that the person they've been trying to scheme their father into confessing to is actually going to live with them. (Even if only for about a month.) She grins smugly when she realizes you smell like her dad.
Miguel lets you have pick of the house, when he carries you back to his beautiful, cozy suburban home. He leaves the proper tour up to Gabi, as he carries you both, letting Gabi tell you about everything excitedly. You stay in his bed (you two had claimed each other, and although Miguel does give you the option of your own room... you'd rather die than lose the comfort that comes with being around your mate.)
Miguel cooks properly for you while you stay with him and Gabi.
No more prepackaged meals, he sneers, instead making you chicken noodle soup from scratch, with bone broth and lots of vegetables. Breakfast every morning before he takes Gabi to school, tucks you in to sleep while he pops into the HQ to check on things. He's out of commission from missions while he cares for you, but he still makes sure things go smoothly. He's home by lunch, sometimes bringing you fast food instead of cooking so you can have your fill of a greasy burger or fries or something to sate the part of you that needs something unhealthy and indulgent. Holds you in his lap while you both eat, watching TV on the couch.
He finishes his work and goes on emergency-only mode when it's time to pick up Gabi from school. He tucks you into the passenger seat if you feel up to it, buckling you up himself and pressing a kiss to your lips, even though he doesn't need to. He knows you can buckle yourself up, and lets you do so when you insist, but it makes him happy to know he's taking measures to keep you safe.
He does force you to take a blanket with you, just in case though.
When all three of you get home, he makes dinner, sometimes with Gabi helping him, sometimes you, sometimes just himself. He has a pretty wide range of foods he ends up making, but it's primarily because they're foods he likes, or Gabi likes, and he learned to make them. He's a good cook, overall.
It's the best work-life balance he's had in a long time.
When you're better, he all but begs you to stay.
And god, how could you say no to him?
(Also for those who it matters for, if you do end up pregnant from the Heat Adventures he obviously loves kids and would love one with you, but if you don't feel ready/don't want to have kids other than Gabi, he absolutely respects it, and will talk about options with you. Granted, he'll be disappointed, but at the end of the day it's not something he CAN'T move past. Discusses birth control options with you almost immediately when the two of you get intimate again.)
Aido is man of science and logic and was absolutely positive of his views on the existence of the supernatural. But after having Kaede as a business associate for the last handful of years, his resolve on that belief has been shaken a little. He can't say exactly what he thinks is different about the coroner, just that he knows something is different.
Ilya has only met him a few times and thinks Kaede is just about the weirdest person he's ever met. He definitely sees the man's brilliance in his field, but thinks Aido is thinking too seriously about it. Ilya waves it off as the man having more than a few screws loose.
Ares and Athena are and always will be symbolic twins. To me. Two complete parts of an even greater whole. Often destined to be at odds, always destined to come back together. Anything else would be a denial of who they are.
Before Athena was around, Ares can confidently say he felt her absence. He missed her before he met her.
Athena often wonders what Ares' childhood was like. Sometimes she wonders what hers would have been like, if only she were around. She's certain he would have annoyed the hell out of her. She would have loved it.
Sometimes Ares forgets Athena wasn't always there. He'll begin describing a childhood memory as though it were shared, "Do you remember when we..."
The way Athena says his name is all the reminder he needs, though.
🫵YOU!!! HAVE HURT US ALL TOO MUCH!! CUTE. ZEUS AND HERA HEADCANONS. HAND 'EM OVER.
..Y'know what? That's fair- it's been doom and gloom and lore for a bit too long! For now I'll offer some. VERY in depth Zeus and Hera thoughts I've been rotating in my mind <3 Especially since this had to wait until after I finished chapter one of "Love & Other Lies[...]"
As mentioned before, Zeus is utterly obsessed with Hera's curls. Part of it is purely tied to Hera's dedication to veiling- she started very shortly after she and her siblings were freed from Kronos, after all. And at the time, Zeus was practically a stranger to Hera- and even as they got to know each other and even began a courtship, he was someone Hera remained veiled around.
Of course, Zeus would occasionally catch unobstructed glimpses of Hera's silky, bouncy tresses of hair- he'll admit... part of him did nearly obsess over how soft it seemed, how he longed to run his fingers through it. In no small part inspired by Hera's dedication to her modesty, and how slow she insisted their relationship moved. It had been cause for almost pitiable levels of excitement the first time Hera allowed Zeus to take her arm in arm and escort her to some event or meeting- he can't even recall what, he was so elated after they parted and he could celebrate privately.
So you can only imagine the joy that filled him the very first occasion Hera removed her veil for him to see.
It was a dreadfully hot midsummer day, as it had been all month as the days rolled by one after the other- the unrelenting heat itself the cause for the seemingly endless battle against the titans ebbing long enough for Zeus to pay Hera an extended visit. Zeus recalls how odd he thought it was that she was wearing her hair down on such a sweltering afternoon- already a rare one where Hera had chosen not only to go without the addition of a shawl for modesty, but to wear one of her lightest veils, even among the light and flowing fabrics she had always preferred.
Zeus recalls just as well how he was momentarily struck with the realization he had never paid so much mind to things of that nature in the past, even with his previous lovers. And yet here he found himself walking and talking by Hera's side through the gardens, entranced by how she had chosen to wear her hair. Still, Zeus treasured the rare moments spent together between them- even if he didn't find the heat as agreeable as Hera, always running slightly too hot with lightning bottled inside him.
Still, coping with the heat was a remarkably easy tradeoff to be able to walk arm in arm with Hera, momentarily melting away the stress each of them was under with the looming specter of their much needed contributions to the war. It was remarkable how much Hera had done without needing to see battle herself. ..Not yet at least, prepared as she may be. Zeus sincerely hoped she wouldn't need to. That was already difficult enough to handle with Hades and Poseidon. Not Hera.
Zeus ran his fingers through his own thick hair- even with it tied up, it kept him far too warm. ..Zeus had been so momentarily preoccupied with his own thoughts that only then did he process he and Hera were no longer arm in arm. "...unbearably hot." Hera would finish a comment Zeus hadn't heard the beginning of, a smirk in her voice.
He almost hadn't caught the end, either.
Hera had slipped the delicate gossamer fabric of her veil off the top of her head, instead leaving it hanging low across her back, draped between each of her arms. ..Struck by the summer sunlight, the reddish undertone of Hera's hair was almost.. violet. Deep and rich, the color of freshly poured wine hidden beneath the deep chestnut tone Zeus was so newly familiar with.
"Come to think of it, I really should have thought to put my hair up." The wine-rich tone in her curls shifted further in the sun as Hera carefully lifted her hair with one hand, allowing it to flow freely down the length of her back. However briefly, the fresh afternoon air on the back of Hera's neck draws a quiet sigh.
"...Would you mind?" The question came with a playful lilt in Hera's voice as she glanced up and over her shoulder at Zeus. ...The sunlight caught the arch of her cheekbones and the gentle curve of her plump lips beautifully.
"I'm sorry?" Zeus questioned right back, blinking dumbly in a way he could only hope it seemed was simply from the sun in his eyes.
...Hera laughed. Zeus adored when she laughed, even at his expense. That's all he was after. "My hair." She clarified, turning to face Zeus properly. "..Would you put it up for me?~"
Zeus found himself only able to offer a nod as a response.
And so they sat in the garden together, Zeus savoring each moment he ran his fingers through Hera's chestnut curls, gently warmed by the harsh sun beating down on the two of them.
He couldn't even find it in himself to question why Hera was able to produce several hair pins from her pocket to aid him in his work, if she hadn't planned on pinning her hair up after all.
Nor did he question it each and every time that followed.
I've been toying with headcanons about Zeus' reaction/behaviour when Hera tells him she's pregnant. I imagine he gets wildly overprotective (even more so than Hades, who is obsessive with security). Fun fact, Hera is also the most skilled pegasus rider on Olympus (she's had a white mare named Cirilla since the Titanomachy) and I just picture her jumping off cliffs for fun while Zeus sputters in the background. Thoughts?
Oh, don’t get me STARTED on cute domestic headcanons!! I blame this brainrot entirely on you lmao 🩷
Zeus is ABSOLUTELY protective as all hell as soon as he finds out Hera is pregnant— more than usual. Which is… already a bit much at times.
The first time around (right after their honeymoon) when Hera fell pregnant with Hephaestus, she figured it may just have been nerves since everything happened so fast and it was their first child.
…That was not the case. This has happened with every single pregnancy. No exceptions.
At first it's very manageable, with Hera gently reminding Zeus that she isn’t going to shatter to pieces at any given moment. …Until she begins to visibly show the pregnancy. And by then, there's no going back.
Zeus wouldn’t force anything, but he often insists that Hera do much less work than usual. “You have so many more important things to focus on, precious.” And honestly? As long as she can still do some work, Hera... doesn’t mind it, oddly enough. It’s one of the few times she’ll allow herself to rest properly, take breaks, and spend more time with her extended family.
..But generally, more time with family means more activities for Zeus to fret over his precious wife participating in.
Days long visits to stay with Demeter with little contact (unless Zeus sends Hermes to inquire) as the two reconnect and spend time enjoying the fruits of Demeter's labor. Usually with Hera returning with plenty of gifts from the earth to sate her pregnancy cravings and telling Zeus of the lovely meadows she would rest in as Demeter went about her work. (Demeter let Hera sleep the afternoons away in the open? She wasn't guarding her at all times?!)
Morning horseback rides with Poseidon that last hours as they disappear into the forest together, returning home laughing to themselves and telling of how they had whipped around a tight path so fast that Poseidon almost fell off his own horse and Hera nearly lost her veil in the commotion. (And Zeus had nearly had a heart attack hearing the story.)
And as much as Zeus trusts Hades out of all their siblings to protect Hera, his precious Queen insisting on visiting Hades in the underworld on a day Zeus is busy and unable to escort her personally is cause for near pitiful levels of worry.
Hermes is the one who hears the most of it, given he's near constantly by Zeus' side in any moment he's not actively zipping around to deliver messages. He honestly finds it quite sweet, if more than a bit amusing. ...And more than a bit exhausting, considering he's the one checking up on Hera on Zeus' behalf nearly every hour.
..Zeus would never want to stifle Hera's freedom, though. Not when he can see how deliriously happy she is spending her days this way. Not fretting over the duties of a queen, just... relaxing and doing as she pleases.
So all Zeus could do is breathe a sigh of relief once he had rushed to finish his work as early as possible, and returned to precisely where he knew Hera would be. Relaxing in her private garden, soaking up the last hours of sunlight and quietly humming to herself as she continued work on the tapestry she sketched out on the very night she came to realize they were expecting another child.
When Zeus lays down beside his Queen and wraps his arms around her, steeling himself for whatever answer may come as he inquires what she's gotten up to today, he at least feels secure that finally, every piece of him is together in one place.
Soooo... is there a story with Hera's scar? How does one leave a permanent scar on a god? 👀
OH brother do not get me STARTEDDDDD about the scar on Hera's ankle!!! Be prepared for an extended yap session.
The question of how do you scar a god actually has a fairly simple answer- in my headcanons at least! To me, the physical form of a god is entirely an extension of their own will and desire. Their body is something they choose to have and choose to shape. They age and change solely as they see fit. It's a little paradoxical in that they heal from wounds because they know they will.
Essentially, the way to scar one of my gods... is for the experience to be traumatic or otherwise meaningful. The event changes their body, because it changes them. This is how you get gods with scars from significant battles (Ares), gods with missing limbs (Hephaestus and possibly Poseidon~) and all that.
With that said... my Hera has exactly one scar on her body. Wrapped around her ankle- uneven and obvious with the way it digs into her skin, stained golden from the ichor she spilled, pieces of her clearly missing.
Much more content under the cut bc this post got SO LONG
...And as mentioned in Hera's ref, that scar was left by Kronos. Specifically, as she and her siblings were freed by Zeus and rushing to escape. Hera fell behind slightly as she was helping Poseidon keep up- far enough behind to end up... too close to Kronos.
Hera remembers the terror as his hand closed around her leg all too well. And unfortunately, she recalls the all-consuming pain of his nails digging into her flesh to claw her back to him with even greater clarity. Much of the rest of that moment is, mercifully, a bit of a blur. Poseidon and Demeter have reassured her of how fiercely she fought to escape as they managed to pry her from their father's grasp, but Hera herself would be unable to tell you.
All she could describe with any accuracy is the sensation and terror of feeling herself nearly be torn apart. ..That, and the memory of being carried in Hades' arms once they realized she was incapable of running any longer.
That wound deeply impacted Hera in ways even she struggles to describe. The healing process was slow, painful, and incredibly humbling. How she willed it to heal, for it to end as swiftly as it began- and yet her wish was not heeded, even by her own body. The sluggish, constant bleeding didn't cease until Demeter stepped in to assist the initial healing. The sharp blow to her pride when she first collapsed, realizing the weakness in her injured leg now prevented her from carrying weight on it.
To this day, the phantom of such pain seems to haunt her in her more vulnerable moments. The sharp metallic burning that radiates up her leg, the usually negligible difference in strength suddenly too pronounced to ignore. Bed rest is taken hesitantly, but... admittedly, is desperately needed. If he can help it, Zeus vastly prefers not to leave Hera's side on these days. There may be a.. helplessness to seeing his Queen in such pain, but tending to her alleviates it significantly. When he's unable to remain with her though, he ensures that she remains undisturbed. She will not be bothered with trivial matters when she should be focused on herself.
The only exception made for this rule was when each of their children were young, excitable little things prone to tiring themselves out halfway through the day. ..On those days, the half-asleep toddlers would be carried in their father's arms to the King and Queen's bedchambers and laid down by their mother's side to rest. This was never discussed between Hera and her husband, but rather an unspoken, gentle ritual that brought her much needed comfort. Whenever they were not yet asleep, Hera would read aloud whatever she was entertaining herself with, or softly sing to them as she sewed her newest tapestry- as she so often does during her downtime.
Even as adults, the scent of fresh linen and warm tea still puts all three of Hera's children to sleep within minutes.
