#but then when i was an older teen and wanted it cut real short she FORBADE ME from going any shorter than a bob???

[yardsards]

when characters have poofy messy but otherwise straight hair, i like to headcanon that their hair is actually naturally wavy/curly and they just don't know how to/don't care to take proper care of it. bc irl that is often the case (speaking from personal experience)

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I MISSED YOUUU AND YOUR WRITING :(

SO GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK!!!!

When, or if you’re comfortable with sharing fics from your stash again, could you please revive these? (or perhaps secure them at ao3?):

The one where Matt was growing (but then failing to) some type of melon in cold dreary rainy England sometime in the late 18th / early 19th century

19th century Baby fight: Wee Jack standing up for baby Zee and punching Wee Ludwig , Matt swooping them up later to deescalate

Mid-19th century fight: Teen jack vs Angry livid Arthur because of a broken statue? Then he drops deceased because Zee and Laudanum 

21st century London: Drunk Matt involved in a bar fight cuz he flirted with a girl, and her boyfriend was not having it lol - Jack came to pick him up afterwards

I’m not sure if these were head canons or if you just briefly mentioned these, but they’re in my memory, and I can’t find them anymore from reblogs of your older/deactivated blogs and I still think about them to this day :(((((

Thank you! and Ah! Yes! I can get those written out or back on the blog in some form. Though, unfortunately the first three are what I've kind of started to call 'pseudo-short stories' because they're definitely getting detailed enough to be fics but have not been written out in any true narrative. I've put the ao3 link to the 4th in the comments and below the cut as its a 'real' short story in that its at least a narrative lol.

Whiskey, no so neat.

The woman before Matthew spread herself out on the barstool and looked at him like he was the first apple of autumn in his red toque and brown jacket. He liked it when they did that. There were coloured lights all around the door, a crowd of people, and house music everywhere. A good lager only cost 3 pounds, polished sterling, and he'd had a lot of them. The used glasses on the bar top behind them reflected pretty party lights until they looked like the aurora borealis in his smudged-up vision.

One-night stands made Matthew feel like something had just been invented, something brand new and worth a look at across the bar—valuable, even if only as an ephemeral novelty. Even if it was only because he was pretty.

She swung her arms around him and wound a loose bit of his hair around her fingers. Matthew kissed her and slid himself between her short skirt and black tights and the bar, kissing her again until he was panting and his heart was throbbing to the music at all the pulse points. He looked up at them in the mirror behind the bar, him and the woman. A man stood behind him, glaring murderously from under a ball cap.

"Problem?" Matt asked, looking over his shoulder, arms still slung around the woman's shoulders. He was drunk. He was far too fucking drunk.

"That's my girl."

Matt looked back at the woman.

She shrugged. "An ex,"

"You heard her," Matt laughed. That would have been the end of it at home.

"Get off her!"

"No, thank you," Matthew said, and the woman nudged him closer. They ignored the man. He swung himself around and hitched her up. It was the smoothest floor he'd ever been on, or he was wasted, and he slipped, had to keep adjusting and pushing forward to keep his arms around her and his mouth on her neck. Her moans drew up, and he sighed into her jaw. It's another twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five. They get more drinks. Matt drinks whiskey neat. His fourteenth glass or so. Time doesn't mean much. It clumps up like chunks of ice, making a whole solid in a glass. He's about to ask if she wants to return to her place or his when he's clocked in the face. He's still thinking about how he hopes it's her place because his place is his father's 19th-century sofa and a few quilts half the city over when he pushes her out of the way, hopefully to safety. He cracks an elbow into the glaring bastard's jaw, the way that makes even Alfred fucking hurt and is about to drag the asshole who hit him outside and high stick a few ribs until they're good and dented when Jack's in front of him. He'd forgotten this was a family outing.

"All right, mate, that's enough," He said, gripping Matt's shoulders and steering him towards the door.

The cold night air hit their faces, and they shivered. Matt's baby brother had been in his sunshine-drenched desert continent home until a week ago, and he felt terrible. He curled an elbow around Jack's neck, suddenly wobbly.

"I wasn't finished!" He hiccoughed. "And you should have worn a jacket,"

"Yeah, nah, you're done," Jack said, sounding beyond annoyed.

"I told you to wear a jacket, bud," Matt proclaimed, not responding to Jack but, like all of London, needing to hear him if his brother didn't.

"You're munted," Jack said, grinning. He tossed Matt's arm off and dragged the other over his shoulders like he didn't trust Matthew to stand up. "Just have fucken look at you,"

"But I'm right," Matt said, swerving and thrusting one hand out before him. He forgot to reach a finger out to make the point, lecture, and be the elder sibling. Shit. He hiccoughed.

"Let's find another pub," Matt said, turning around twice before he realized Jack was still to his left.

"You'll find someone to get in trouble over, you goddamn root rat," Jack said, tugging him down the sidewalk.

"Promise I won't,"

"Mate you just arc'd up at some random bloke," Jack said.

"Fucker hit me first!"

"Yeah, I'm sure Dad will love that explanation for why you almost took someone's head off over someone you've never met," Jack said, hailing a cab.

"But she was hot,"

Jack scowled at him.

"D'you even like girls?" Matt asked. He couldn't remember. "Tits are great,"

"Matt, how much did you drink?"

He blinked.

"Heh, too much." Curiosity crept up on him all of a sudden. "Do marsupials not have tits? Is that why you don't like tits?"

"Jesus Christ, mate," Jack was glowing in a street lamp halo of piss-coloured light.

"Come on, if we're out too late you'll still be hurling for that Honore Balzac lecture you wanted to see,"

"I wanted to honour my ballsack on that girl," Matt returned, giggling. Like a child. Like a girl. Except Zee never giggled. She was loud. She laughed as loud as she wanted. Good for her. Matt thought and wondered why his brain wasn't working anymore.

"The writer,"

He blinked. "Oh yeah, I knoooooow," He hadn't, but Matt pulled out the word and was very glad his baby brother held him fast by the waist and shoulder. Baby brother. Bouncy baby Jack hopped up the curb. He was tall. Jesus Christ, he was so tall. Matt grinned down at him as Jack tugged him along.

"I'm so proud of you,"

"How is it you are exactly the same drunk as you are sober?" Jack said, adjusting Matt's arm over his neck, but Matt could hear how pleased he sounded.

"What'stha mean?" Matt slurred.

"Means you're fucken gone, mate, doesn't it? Jesus but it does,"

"You sound," Matt hiccoughed and tried again. The last five shots were kicking in hard, apparently. "You sound Irish,"

"I am Irish you knob, c'mon Matt, make your bloody legs work would ya?"

He must have blacked out a little after that because they stepped off the curb and got into a car. But when the hell had Jack hailed a cab? No, not a cab. Dad's car. Hadn't that been left at the house? Shit.

"If I hurl—

"Do it out the window and I'll hose it off in the morning," A familiar voice said. Father. Dad.

"You called Dad?" Matt asked. His father raised a brow. "Shit! Shit! I didn't kill anyone!"

His father cocked an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, when did Matthew find himself in the car? He was stashed in the back on his side, unbuckled. The car was moving.

"You picked us up?" he said, astonished. The soft seat felt absolutely delicious, and he propped his cheek on it, but his stomach was sour—with anxiety, not his bar tab.

"I called him," Jack supplied.

"Why?" Matt said.

"Because you got wasted, horked on the curb and I didn't feel like hauling you all the way home,"

"You didn't have to call Dad!" The world tilted. His guts lurched. He might have been sick all over the car, but then he sat up, and gravity was happier with him. Or was he happier with gravity? His head spun. Had he been this drunk in the bar? He clawed his way towards the other side of the car and leaned between the front seats, holding the center console. "I'm really sorry,"

"It's fine," his father said. At the next stop sign, his eyes flicked up in the mirror, and Matt thought he meant it but still felt terrible.

"I was irresponsible," He said quietly. "Sorry,"

"Really, it's fine,"

"Sorry,"

"Sit back down,"

"Dad,"

"Sit your sorry arse down and buckle up or we will be having words about it!" Arthur snapped. "I mean honestly, Matthew Williams! How irresponsible can you be?"

"Yes, sir," He hated when Arthur whipped out his name like that. Jack and Zee have long since chosen their own, but they'd been given one at least. It was a firm, concrete reminder whenever Arthur said his name in that tone. You're like this because you're not mine. Not really. Secondhand son. Oxfam offspring.

He was beyond drunk if he was thinking like that. He fastened the buckle and remained silent. Jack tried a couple of times to start a conversation, but it got nowhere. Eventually, they sat in sullen silence.

Matthew was quiet but wanted to cry a bit when Arthur glowered in the mirror at him. He averted his gaze and stared at his boots, ashamed of himself for indulging in the drink or the girl. When they got to the house, Jack heaved him up, dragging him out of the car, arm over his shoulder, even when he got his sea legs. This is why he never drank as much as he could actually tolerate. He looked everywhere but at Dad, humiliated enough to stare at his feet. Or he was just so drunk he had to watch his feet move. He'd fall flat on his face even with Jack's balancing

He must blackout again because the next he knew, he was awake in a dark room, convinced he was falling, half-folded onto a chair.

"You with me, mate?" Jack was holding a basin, damp inside. He must have just rinsed it out because his mouth tasted like puke.

"Yeah," Matt said. "I threw up?"

"Yup," Jack said and gave him a pat.

"I suck,"

Jack smiled sympathetically. "Just a bit. You think you're done puking?"

"Nothing left,"

Jack guided him through their father's dark house, somehow steering them both through without breaking anything or falling over. He shoved Matt into the shower, and Matt clumsily washed his hair, hosed off sweat and puke, brushed his teeth, and somehow found himself competently toweling himself off. Jack had found their father's stash of clothes in all their sizes and threw them at him.

"Here, joggers and a jumper for your gangly arse," Jack slapped him gently on the back and Matt snorted.

"Jumper," Matt rolled the word around his mouth. "You're the kangaroo,"

"Jesus Christ you're still hammered. It's like dragging dad off the docks." Jack shook his head, and they somehow managed not to die crossing the hall to the spare bedroom. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Matt's face-planted into the bed and thought the flannel pillowcase was a thousand times better than any tits he would have otherwise fallen face into that night. Jack had said he was like Dad out of annoyance but Matt had the small, and embarassing, flicker of joy. He wanted to blurt out thanks but instead he just laid there in a better mood than he'd been since the car.

"Sit up," Jack kicked him gently on the leg, and Matt rolled over, dizzy.

"Don't want to,"

"Yeah, well, you should have thought about that before you got this drunk," Jack gave him another nudge, and Matt did as he was told. Jack held out a glass of water and a handful of tablets. "Take those, and drink all of that,"

Matt knocked the pills back and drank it all. Jack took the glass from him and filled it again, putting it on the bedside table.

"You're not going to go and choke to death in your sleep, right?" Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked funny, and Matt felt terrible. His spiky hair was wilted, and Matt thought he should put him in the sun. But his head hurt, and light would make it hurt more, so he settled for flopping over and hugging his baby brother.

"I've literally never done that,"

Jack squeezed his shoulder and let go. "Dad has," Jack said, starfishing on the bed and shoving Matt onto the far edge.

"I'm not Dad," Matt said, sipping more at the water.

"You mind if I stay in here and make sure you don't?" Jack said. "You hammered is weird,"

"Sorry,"

"You're allowed," Jack said. "It's just weird,"

"Tell that to Dad, he hates me,"

"He wasn't happy, that's for bloody sure," Jack said. "But he wouldn't pop down to the shops at two in the morning to round up the full fry up if he hated you,"

Matt gagged.

"Sorry," Jack pat him on the shoulder.

"Saint Bibiana have mercy upon my soul," Matt groaned.

Jack snorted and gently shoved him onto his side. "Come on, get some sleep, you'll feel less like shit in the morning."

"You and I both know that's bullshit," Matt said, eyes shut against the spinning. "I deserve it,"

"You do not," Jack looked ready to smack him upside the head. "Don't be stupid. You're fine,"

"I'm sorry for being a prick,"

"You had fun for once, it wasn't your fault that whacker wanted a fight,"

"Still, I'm sorry,"

"Stop apologizing," Jack said again. "I puked on you plenty when I was little,"

Matt chuckled. "God, that's true. You vomited all the way to England like four times,"

"You're the one who never believed me when I said I wasn't done being sick!" Jack shot back, smiling.

"You'd been puking for ten hours straight that time, I didn't know how there could even be anything left in you," Matt's guts flipped. "Hgnn, no more puke talk,"

"All right, all right, mate, sleep time," Jack held the covers up, and Matt rolled under, burrowing under the duvet.

"Al right, all right. When did you get a brain cell?"

"Kiwi lets me have custody of it when she's off being the family shame," He snorted and flopped onto the mattress next to Matt. "Promise you won't puke on me, asshole,"

"Jackass,"

"Please, Jackass is my father. Call me Jack,"

Matt was snorting as he fell asleep.

[ele-sme]

What if...when Spider was taken away by the recoms he hitted his head? Here you, with lost of memory.

@lloyd-007 this is the story we were talking last time, instead of making two why don't i make only one?and then i male in some days a part 2 of this? Obliusy if this go well.

"Tiger, do you remember what i told you?" Quaritch asked stroking the boy hair.

"Yes, yes dad" the other responded in annoyance "Jake sully wants to kill me, if he gets close to me i run away and search you" he continued, same annoyed tone as before, they rehearsed the plan at least a thousand times.

"If you can't find me, just take a boat and escape" Quaritch continued "don't look back".

"Dad! It's obvious i will find you, I'm sure you will be okay, we both will." Spider told his father, even if he didn't say it, he was afraid that he would have get killed by Jake Sully, that man always had something against his father, that what he was told, and who was him for not believing his family?

Quaritch maked a sigh and then re-stroke the short hair of his boy, after he understood of the amnesia the first thing he did was cutting the boy hair even if Spider was against it. Now the hair were a cloud of blonde threads, the boy often maked small braids, he said that he was doing them to look like the long one his father had, in reality everytime he maked them he felt...good, like he was at home.

Spider didn't remember anything before the amnesia, he father tolded him that during a fight with the Sully's they makes him fall from a far and he hitted his head, that seemed reasonable but felt so wrong at the same time.

"They are here" A scientific said making Spider come to reality again. They where there, the Sully's where there. Spider founded his hands wet my sweat, he was nervous.

"Stay here Junior" Quaritch said going out.

"But dad!" Spider tried to follow but he was stopped by Z-dog

"Miles no, seriously stay here." She said giving the boy a kiss on the head to calm him down, then after stroking his hair too she got out too lefting him only a "see you later". Spider could hold a smile,the two of them grow very close in those months, Spider often finded himself to call her mom, everytime he did she laughed at him then she would give a kiss at the boy head. Spider didn't know why he got so attached, but she looked familiar, his uncle 'Mask' that was his nickname explained to him that when he was little, before the amnesia, he and Z-dog were often together.

He watched from a far, as those na'vi boys where there, the one that seemed older had free the others and together they were going away, Spider knew he should have said something but something was making him stay still and mute, just watching as the enemy escaped.

Then the shorter one felled on her face, Spider instinctively picked his mask and got out of the room.

He quickly got closer to the na'vi teens who were stopped by the youngest falling, everything happened in a range of ten maybe twenty seconds seamed almost un real.

"You are okay?" Spider asked getting closer to that Na'vi child, all the teens hissed before turning to him and only the boys stopped when they saw him.

"Spidy! You are okay!" The shorter yelled, she jumped on her feet ready to jump on the boy too.

Spider toke a step back and picked his knife out, "who is spidy?w-who are you?" he asked in a frightened stammer, the little girl taked a step back as well when she saw the knife, and the other girl toke her by the shoulder for what seemed protection, Spider felt like she wasn’t the one who needed protection from him, if anything he should have protect her.

"Spider?" one of the na'vi boys said, his tone concerned, "we don't have the time for this," the one that had free the others hissed hissed annoyed.

"what do you wanna do?" The same guy asked the other boy, maybe his brother? And how could Spider understand them? They were talking in Na'vi. The other boy looked back at the scared human and sighted.

"I'm sorry bro" he said, for a moment Spider thinked they were going away without him but the blue teen had other ideas, he easily came closer to Spider and pushed him on the ground, not so strongly to kill him but enough to make him black out.

Spider woke up again some hours later, in a place he never saw maybe a infirmary, but that looked strange since it was in those conditions, maybe the infirmary of the village his father was attacking, suddenly he remembered what had happened, his father saying goodbye, the little girl falling, him running to see if she was okay, and the na'vi boy making him black out.

He tried to get up but his legs weren't sharing the idea, making him fall back on the bed.

He knew for sure something: he was kidnapped, he was in a infirmary of a village, maybe they were going to kill him, and his legs weren't working like the should have.

After some minutes he tried again, successfully, he was on his feet again.

When he finded the door that lead outside, he practically runned. At the outside he was met by the same na'vi who maked him black out and a girl next to him.

"Mokey boy!" The girl yelled running to him that in the meantime had frooze on his feet scared for his life, did she just called him Mokey? perra.

"Stay away, animal" he shouted, finally being capable to move again, the girl maked a confused face and toke a step back from him.

Others arrived at the yelling, they were the older na'vi and the little girl from before and there where adults too... fuck they were Jake sully and his wife, they looked older and tired? But they were them.

Without even noticing he started to cry, seeing those adults maked his blood cold, he could feel the panic attack that was coming to him.

"Spider" Jake sully said coming closer to him, his tone was sweet but Spider couldn't let himself be fooled by him, he toke a step back from the man.

"Who is Spider? My name is Miles" he said to the adult, although the names were said in english he talked in na'vi in that moment. Strange he didn't know na'vi, didn't him?

"No, you are Spider!" the boy who maked him black out said coming to close to him.

"Spider?why should my name by Spider? Im not a Spider" the other responded, in a friendly tone? He never met that boy how could his tone sound so chill around him, around them. The little girl laughed at the thing he said,her laugh... sounded familiar.

Spider looked at her, she was under Ms sully arms,she didn't only sound familiar, she looked familiar.

"Tuk-Tuk?" He asked without even thinking, the little girl got all excited at the sound of her name coming out of Spider mouth, she nodded and stepped out of her mother arms.

Spider suddenly remembered her, not all the memories,but her remember who is she was,her name, Tuktirey, nickname,tuk tuk, and favourite toy,a doll he maked her for her five birthday, that was his baby sister. He quickly toke her hand and putted her behind him, protecting her from the others.

"Stay away from us" he said to Jake sully taking a step back with Tuk, who looked confused but followed the older. Ms sully hissed at him, making him shiver on inside, before she could do anything else by Jake Sully.

"Do you remember who I'm?" Sully asked

"Yes of course you are Jake sully and that his your wife" Spider said, although he wanted to sound intimidating the tone was the one of fear, despise that he still tried to protect his baby sister from them.

"Do you remember who is she?" he asked again pointing at the girl who called him monkey.

"Should i?" He asked, with a much more calmer tone, the girl maked a sound of pain, she leaned against the older one, maybe her older brother, he looked hurt and guilty.

"Yes, we are your family!" The boy that maked him black out said taking a step in Spider direction, who maked him and his sister take a step back.

"That not true, you guys maked me lose my memory, my father told me, now you have five seconds to let me and my little sister go!" he said,his tone back in fear, he spoke still in na'vi but at this point he didn't care, he wanted to escape and protect his sister from them, 'what have they done to her? Those monthsalone wasn't with her...how couldi forget her?' he continued to say to himself.

"Oh Spider no, he lied to you" Jake Sully said, making Spider turn his head fast to look at the older man.

"How dare you?" Spider asked,his father lying to him,that was crazy, then he was hit by a doubt, what if he was telling the truth? "Please just let my sister go, she didn't do anything wrong, please don't hurt her" Spider said getting to his sister side holding her.

She understood something, he knew, she maked the face she always do when she understood something. Like the time he maked her learn basic math.

"Spidy, we need to talk" Tuk said looking at him, "don't cry" she continued, noticing the silent tears on her brother face.

"We..-i...-you" he could only say, he found himself sobbing, and he was so confused, what was happening? and how did he knew na'vi?

"Tuk, my sweet sister this is not the time to talk, we need to go away, i need to protect you from them" he continued,

Tuk nodded and took his hand, then she said to the adults something he could catch, they nodded in approval maybe, she then leaded him to the beach which was not far away, and then they began to talk.

They talked for hours, Tuk tolded him everything that she knew about him,his memories, then she called that other girl, who name seemed to be Kiri, she cried telling him everything they have done together, they cried together hearing those stories, in the hours that passed every member of the sully family now was there. The last one who arrived was Neytiri, that was her name, Neytiri.

She sitted next to him, "my beautiful baby boy" she said, making the other members of the family turn, except Jake,his eyes softened at those words, they sounded a little strange but at the same time in sounded right, she musted have been his mother, that why he got close to Z-dog, because he remember his mother in her. Both had blue skin and a tail, and their eyes were soft when they met him.

"Hi mom" he said and she picked him up and putted him in her legs. She being to talk about those stories about them, all of them were sweet and sounded real, Spider he was sure she was telling the truth.

She was indeed his mom, she always had been, how couldn't she notice it sooner?

[roanofarcc]

BABYDOLL: CHAPTER SEVEN. SURFS UP

jj maybank x fem!routledge OC // read on Ao3

In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.

chapter summary. the kook princess pays the chateau a visit; the pogues have a moment of chill before shit hits the fan

word count. 1.9k || masterlist

previous chapter < >next chapter

With a storm brewing on the horizon, taking the stolen drone out to explore the spot that could contain the sunken Royal Merchant had to wait until the following day. They couldn’t risk losing the drone in too rough of water, considering it wasn’t theirs. 

They had to wait it out, meaning the Pogues all split up for the day. Lottie and John B. relaxed in their backyard. John B. looked over the map while Lottie watched the clouds quickly blowing across the sky, threatening rain. 

“Hey, John?” Her brother hummed in response as he worked on a small hand-held GPS that held a pin of the location of the wreck. “Can I ask you something?” 

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “You just did.” 

Ignoring his lame remark, Lottie continued with her question. “Why do you think dad only left your name on the clue?” 

He paused his actions, but his expression told her that he expected the question. Twin telepathy wasn’t real, but it did sometimes feel like he knew what she was thinking before she ever said it aloud and vice versa. 

“I don’t know,” John B. answered with a sigh. “Maybe because he talked about this kind of stuff more with me?” 

“Not always, though. He used to tell us both about his treasure hunts when we were little. And then it just stopped, with me at least. I don’t know why.” 

When they were younger, it all sounded almost magical. Lottie had once dreamed of going on treasure hunts like their dad. Then, as they grew older, it sounded less cool, and their dreams took different shapes, but it wasn’t like Lottie stopped listening or caring. Their dad just stopped including her in his stories, trips, and research. He only seemed interested in telling John B. about it. They both never thought he’d actually find the Royal Merchant, yet he had left the clues for John B. to find, not Lottie. Did he think she wouldn’t be able to piece them together? 

It wasn’t like John B. was fully invested in their dad’s stories as a teen either. He tried to pull him out of his office and often argued with him to act like an actual father. Despite that, though, he left the tools for John B. to find the treasure. All Lottie got was an apology, not even a clear answer to what he was apologizing for. 

“Dad had a lot going on in his head that he didn’t tell,” her brother said. “I don’t know why he left this to me, but does it matter? We found it together and we’re in this together.” 

She supposed he was right. If they struck gold, they’d do it together, with their friends. They’d complete their dad’s work together, whether he had wanted them to or not. 

With a sigh, she dropped the subject and stared unfocused out at the yard. There would probably forever be that itch under her sink, a lingering question of what made their dad favor John B. more as they got older. Was it simply because he was the only boy? Did Lottie fall to second rate because she was born a daughter and not a son? 

It was rare for Lottie to think of her mom, but there were moments when she yearned for one. Their mom had left them when they were toddlers, vanishing into thin air. Their dad tried his best sometimes to fill that void of a missing parent, but Lottie saw what some moms were like with their daughters, and she wanted that. She wished someone had been there to braid her hair instead of cutting it short or to take her shopping instead of finishing. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful for her dad, she just wondered what kind of life she would have lived if their mom had stayed to help raise them. How different would she be? 

“Uh, what is she doing here?” John B.’s voice pulled Lottie out of her thoughts and followed his gaze. The twins watched as Sarah Cameron stomped across their yard with a light scowl and in a bikini top. 

Lottie rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe she was hallucinating the Kook Princess. 

“It’s your turn,” Sarah said as she approached them, but her focus was on a very confused John B. 

He was silent for a moment, just staring at the blonde until he realized it was getting weird. “Um, for what?” 

“To ask me what I’m doing here.” 

“W-What are you doing here?” 

Out of all of the places on the island that Sarah Cameron could be, the Chateau was one of the last places Lottie ever expected her to visit. Kooks tried to stay out of the Cut unless they were attending a Kegger or visiting Pope’s family’s shop. Otherwise, they stayed in their fancy mansions or yachts. 

Sarah answered, “I didn’t get the chance to respond the other day after you spat in my face, yelled at me, and then off like a child.” 

A curious expression befell Lottie’s face, surprised too. She knew he had spoken to Sarah before; he had worked for her dad until he was fired for stealing his scuba gear. But it seemed like the two had other conversations of recent. 

“First of all,” Sarah continued, not giving John B. a chance to respond. “I’m not a liar. I don’t know how my dad found out about the scuba gear, but I swear it wasn’t me.” 

He swallowed his clear surprise and nodded slowly. “Okay…” 

“Okay,” she repeated. “Good talk.” Sarah turned her attention onto Lottie and offered her a smile that looked a little forced but otherwise kind, probably to not completely ignore her, before she started walking away. Sarah only took a few steps before she stopped and reached into her bag, pulling out a bag of pre-popped popcorn. “You’re favorite.” She threw the bag at John B. and actually left. 

He stared at the bag in his hands for a brief moment before a stupid smile fell across his lips. Lottie groaned, throwing her head back in dramatic fashion. He could develop a crush on someone at the drop of a hat, but a crush on the Kook Princess was like him wishing to get struck by lightning. It was unlikely and if it happened, it would hurt like a bitch; hell, it could even kill him. 

“Dude,” she said, drawing out the word. 

John B. cleared his throat and wiped the smile from his face, but his cheeks were still tinted pink. “What?” 

“Whatever you’re thinking. Whatever that was. It’s going to end badly. I hope you know that.” 

He scoffed and threw the bag of popcorn at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

To occupy their evening, the Pogues grabbed their boards and planned to meet up at the beach to surf. Well, Lottie had wanted to surf, but Kie had mustered up the courage to talk to John B. about their kiss and everything that came to the surface after, so Lottie hung back in the sand while they talked out in the water. She drew shapes in the sand with a stick she had found, trying not to think about anything. 

“Save any waves for us?” JJ’s voice sounded from behind her. He walked across the sand with Pope at his side. 

Lottie was glad to have some company to entertain her, as the rest of the beach was quiet. “Maybe,” she replied with a smile. 

“What’re they doing?” Pope asked, pointing at Kie and John B., too engrossed in their conversation to notice Pope and JJ’s arrival. 

“Kie needed to talk to John for a minute, alone.” 

Pope nodded, plopping down in the sand beside Lottie. He picked up the stick she had sat down and copied what she had just been doing, doodling in the sand. 

“Is it about their kiss?” asked JJ. 

“Kind of.” 

“Does this mean we’re allowed to break the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule now, or what?” 

Lottie had to suppress a laugh. Kie and John B. certainly would not be doing any more macking. After their conversation, she was sure things would go back to normal in their group sooner rather than later. Any and all odd feelings would dissipate from the group of Pogues, leaving them back in safely charted friendship territory. 

“No, I’m afraid it still stands. Which I know puts a real damper on your plan to kiss Pope.” 

The mentioned boy coughed in surprise, looking between the two confused. “Uh, what?” 

JJ shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think Pope and I are gonna work out. He’s out of my league.” 

“I’m lightyears out of your league, dude.” 

Lottie snorted out a laugh, which must’ve finally broken through Kie and John B.’s conversation. They waved them over as everyone was eager to start surfing the perfect incoming waves. 

They were the only ones out at that spot, which gave them the freedom to spend the rest of the evening gliding across the water on their boards, only sharing the waves with each other. The salt spray kissed Lottie’s skin, leaving her feeling exhilarated and alive in the wake of all of the shit they’d been through over the course of the week. 

Surfing for the Pogues was a warm embrace of normalcy. It was their time to think less about their problems and focus on the curl of the waves they rode. Even when Lottie toppled off her board and crashed into the sea, the joy she felt never washed away. If it was up to her, she’d stay right there forever, with her best friends in the ocean and with nothing weighing them down or holding them back. She’d be happy doing that for the rest of her life. She didn’t need some fancy job or a three-story home. All she needed was right in front of her. 

But life didn’t work the way you wanted it to. The sun had to set, forcing them out of the water and back into a world of worrying and thinking. 

“Do you really think it’s out there?” Pope asked, lying on the grass in the backyard of the Chateau. 

He was joined on the ground by JJ and John B., while the girls occupied the hammock. Everyone had their gazes on the stars and thoughts on the gold. 

“Our dad thought it was,” replied John B. 

“But do you?” 

John B. was quiet for a moment, the space filled with chattering bugs enjoying the summer heat and humid air. “After hearing his voice in that recording, I think I do.” 

“There’s only one way to find out,” said JJ. 

Kie lay opposite of Lottie, their legs tangled in the middle. “We’re gonna find it. I mean, even JJ believes.” There was a hint of teasing in her tone, but it mixed with determination. She sounded like she really did believe they’d find the Royal Merchant. 

Rolling onto her side, Lottie looked down from the edge of the hammock and at JJ, who lay the closest to her on the grass. “Gosh, JJ, do you really believe?” 

He copied her action, looking at her with a sideways kind of smile. “Totally.” He paused, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. “Wait, are you talkin’ about the four mil’?” 

In an almost creepy unison, everyone but JJ replied, “Four hundred million.” 

The blonde rolled back onto his back, yawning as he pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes. “Then yeah. I believe. I believe so hard that I’m gonna dream about shipwrecks.” 

They all settled in their spots, under the stars, and closed their eyes, dreaming of shipwrecks, gold, and four hundred million dollars.

[foxhopfics]

Hey! I'm Nathaniel/Spiral/Fox and i write things sometimes!

You can find me @/spiralsystem on Ao3!

This blog will mainly be posting requests, as my main fics that I'm working on will be posted directly to archive, however I'll still post finished fics here!

For x reader requests I will likely use the pronoun "you" over "they" (I just think it's fun)

HOW TO SEND A REQUEST: please send the pairing you want, any tropes or whatever (not obligatory), and pick from one of 3:

- Headcanons: a quick page of headcanon points

- Drabble: quick blurb between 200-500 words

- Short fic: 1000-3000 words

Please don't be shy with requests!

IMPORTANT NOTE: IF YOU DON'T SPECIFY WHAT TYPE OF FIC U WANT, I CANNOT WRITE IT FOR YOU.

Request types I will take:

X GN!Reader

X Male!reader

X Trans!reader

Character x character

Main fandoms I'll currently write for:

Baldur's Gate 3

911/911 Lone Star

Dishonored

Ace Attorney

Vocaloid/Project Sekai Colourful Stage

Critical role seasons 1 & 2

Dc

Jujutsu Kaisen

Genshin Impact

All For The Game

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Merlin

& Many more!

More about my writing under the cut so this doesn't get super long :)

Views on shit for writing: I reaaallly don't subscribe to the whole concept of proship/antiship. I take requests on what I'm comfortable writing.

I DO accept nsfw requests, but only within appropriate age ranges. I am comfortable writing age gaps but please dm me and i'll write something on a different site, same with any other typically "taboo" requests. I will not release a "will not/will write" list because that's just inviting problems.

If you'd like nsfw x a minor!character, please specify in the ask if you are also a minor. If there is no age, I will deny the request. I won't write underage smut for adults. I also probably won't push it past an M rating.

Minors I write for:

ProSeka: Honestly realistically most of these characters are minors, but like we don't all know teenagers aren't celibate. Vocaloids don't canonically have ages but since they're all kinda minor-coded, I'll just stick to M max for proseka.

Genshin - Qiqi and Klee, Sayu, and Yaoyao. Diona is NOT a minor, she runs a bar 🙄. Bennett/razor/fischl/anybody who uses the "teen model" I consider 18 at least.

Ace attorney - pearl, trucy. If you want ema I'll write her as her older self unless specified, sorry.

9-1-1: I'll write any of the kids as a side accessory to their parents, unless you want a Gen piece about the kids. I love writing Chris & Denny :)

Dc: Ages are played with a lot in DC, so any characters that are generally accepted as minors/adults will be treated as such. I.e: Damian Wayne, Jon kent will be treated as kids unless you specify a universe where they're older (like when Older!Jon came to that one Earth)

BALDUR'S GATE 3:

The ONLY characters I won't write for this are LAE'ZEL and MINTHARA:

Minthara: killed her and saved the tieflings. No real interest in having her as a companion so I haven't seen any content with her.

Lae'zel: get back to me when she doesn't excuse slaughtering and colonizing entire towns lol. I'm native and the gith creche slaughtering the entire temple of lathander (as. As a cleric of lathander also) and she was like 🤷‍♂️ we live here now. I was not cool with that. I also really don't know how to write a romance for someone who is constantly combative towards the player.

BSD: I can only write for the ADA characters + aktugawa because. I have only seen season 1 :,) sorry

Muses & character's I'm great at writing for:

Bg3: Tav, Wyll

911: Eddie, TK

Dishonored: Corvo, Outsider (and Garett from Thief 2014)

Ace Attorney: Edgeworth, Klavier, Apollo, Clay, Simon, Diego

Vocaloid/Proseka: Len, VFlower, GUMI, Shiho, Toya, Mafuyu, Mizuki

Critrole: Percy, Vax, Caleb, Jester

DC: batfam, superfam, flashs & rogues gallery, teen titans, young justice

JJK: Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Inumaki, Fushiguro

Genshin: Diluc, Zhongli, Alhaitham & Kaveh (and 4ggravate), Traveler twins, Pantalone, Wriothesley

AFTG: Neil, Aaron, Jean

[itslenagain]

Went to see I Saw the TV Glow with my girlfriend last night and cannot stop thinking about it (spoilers below cut)

The movie begins in the 90's and follows the life of a main character called Owen, a 7th grade kid who seems disconnected from the world. Owen meets Maddie, a 9th grader who is a fan of a TV show called "The Pink Opaque," which features Isabel and Tara, two girls who have a psychic connection to each other. Maddie convinces Owen to sneak out to watch the show with her. They develop a friendship over time as Maddie sneaks Owen tapes of the show. Owen watches the tapes over and over, becoming obsessed. Maddie disappears, and Owen moves through life, disconnected from everything except "The Pink Opaque." Several years pass, and Maddie reappears, now calling herself Tara. The lines of reality become blurry when she says that Owen has been put in a trance by a villain known as Mr. Melancholy. She reveals the show is real and that Owen is actually Isabel, and to be saved, Owen must be buried alive in order to reemerge as Isabel. Owen is faced with a difficult choice; to take the risk in order to become Isabel, or to turn away and leave "The Pink Opaque" behind.

I'll call her Isabel from this point forward, because despite her choice to turn away, she is a trans woman.

The pacing and structure of the movie felt bizarre, and I think this was intentional; dysphoria is being presented as something that affects your entire world. Dysphoria is not simply an internalized, individualistic concept, rather it bends and twists your entire perception of reality. Isabel comments on how time seems to move in strange ways. Even her favorite show, when she revisits it as an older adult, isn't the same as she remembers. A24 is known for movies that aren't afraid to get weird, and this one is no exception.

Watching her struggle to balance what she is feeling inside (which at the end is represented by her literally cutting her chest open to reveal "The Pink Opaque" inside her body) with her reality over time is heartbreaking. Her father, who only speaks 1 line ("Isn't that show for girls?") still manages to come across as harsh and inflexible. Her mother, who seems from their short interactions to be more concerned and possibly willing to help, dies when Isabel is a teen. Isabel is asexual and already feels othered by those around her in that way.

For me, the most devastating moment happens when Maddie/Tara returns to help Isabel escape Mr. Melancholy and become her true self. Isabel, clearly terrified, fights back and says, "If I don't think about it, it goes away." She runs from Tara and from burying Owen. Shortly after, she walks over a chalk drawing that says "There Is Still Time" as she talks about how badly she wanted Tara to come back and try to help her again... but Tara never does. The subsequent time skips show her trying to "do the right thing" by starting a family, getting a job, and forgetting about "The Pink Opaque..." but it never goes away.

It's surreal and incredibly uncomfortable, but the film portrays the trans experience in a way I have not experienced before, and I think it is an important piece of media. Isabel cannot escape her transness no matter how hard she tries. She can push it away, she can refuse to confront it, she can try to ignore it, but in the end, it's still there inside of her.

[mariedemedicis]

I know reddit sucks but gahhh, so pissed. someone made a post asking why dawn doesn’t have any friends in the buffy subreddit and saying that they thought an episode or two revolving around dawn and her friends would be interesting and would give dawn something to do in season 7. the comments are filled with ‘ew no’ ‘everyone hates dawn’ ‘that would have sucked’ ‘she’s annoying’ which are stupid enough but i have to single out these two which really fucking made me want to blow my top:

first comment which is completely fine -

> Dawns a lot more liked now but she was wildly unpopular when the show was airing, it would have been insane for them to take the focus from their lead and make it the Dawn show no one was asking for

It would be a cute idea for the odd episode but not to take the focus of the show

okay that’s not even what op was saying, you’re exaggerating 🙄 but whatever not a big deal

now we have the reply to the above comment:

> Agreed. Because I still don’t like Dawn - and I’m 38 now. Lol

and the reply to that:

> And I'm over 10 yrs older than YOU and it's STILL a struggle to like her...I remind myself of her being-a-key trauma; I remind myself she displays typical young teen annoyingness; I remind myself she lost her parents young, etc., etc. Honestly, I exhaust myself trying to be nicer in my thoughts about her LOL 😅😂😭

sooo, you’re both old enough to be Dawn’s parent at this point based on your own admission of how old you are (which you literally volunteered and no one asked you) and yet in the almost three decades since the show aired, you haven’t stopped hating a literal child character…okay. I think you’re telling on yourself more than you think.

reminds me of that post I saw yesterday about fandom misogyny and having to make an active choice to care about the female characters. that’s never really been much of any issue for me. unlike the typical person ig 🤷🏻‍♀️ I mean I absolutely have my blind spots but I’ve always been drawn to the female characters in a thing and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve also gotten more discerning about not really wanting to even start watching or reading something that has very few female characters.

Idk, seeing those two comments enraged me and like yes, I know, I know, it’s not deep, it’s about a fictional character. My instinctive reaction which (please applaud) I did not carry through on was to say ‘get well soon’. But nonetheless, I hope I never turn out to be like these people. I hope I never end up stuck in my thinking from thirty years ago, unable to reconsider, learn, and admit I was wrong, that I was not working to overcome my inherent/societal biases.

I'm not trying to portray myself as some kind of angel. There are plenty of teen/kid characters that I don't particularly like. But you know what I don't do? I don't go onto posts made by people who like those characters and shit on them. When I articulate a criticism, I also manage to say something more intelligent that that they're annoying.

In conclusion, I would like to share this comment which I vibe super hard with (minimal cut because this was long):

> [...] I'm kinda confused cause I always went into the show thinking "Dawn's a cool plot device but you'll be annoyed by her" and then she does like...nothing. Maybe there's some episode she's a real dip I'm missing but otherwise she's a pretty casual character who occasionally pouts on her bed because she never existed and her family occasionally has to forget about her needs to save the world. Even I think Giles has gotten kidnapped equally or more so I really don't understand the "we have to save Dawn ugh" type thing except for the one season where she was actively being hunted. She also steals sometimes, oh no, send her to Guantanimo I guess.

Honestly the way I saw it was she was always capable but never respected and it manifested in bad ways. She was completely willing and ready to sacrifice what was actually a very short, scary existence for all the people she was made to love which is touching, and she's only like 14. She also watches Buffy and effectively takes on a hoard of demons with her. She has utility even without proper combat training but Buffy doesn't want that because she's her sister and she wants her to live a normal, safe life while Dawn realizes she's more in Xander positions where she literally can't and wants her sister and friends to let her be useful. I think they were finally getting there having Xander acknowledge her efforts and letting her taze him to show urgency as well. Unfortunately they didn't start that sooner and kept babysitting Dawn's character, which is realistic considering her age but definitely a detriment to the character. [...]

[fanficsiwillneverwrite]

Adult Kim Possible Movie Idea

(if i had the time or energy to make this into a fanfic (or better yet, a Disney approved made for tv movie), i would but sadly I don’t so take this detailed explanation instead)

The opening:

Kim is on a solo mission to defeat the generic baddie. She’s older, probably looks something like this, and much more confident and comfortable in her own abilities than she was as a teen.

Maybe the generic baddie is a little lame, probably just starting out in the evil business and doesn’t really know what to do. And there’s room for humor here where the villain is so bad at their job, even they’re embarrassed and Kim tries to comfort them. (See this scene of Spike and Willow from Buff as an example.)

Anyway, as she’s sitting there comforting the baddie, she gets a call on her kimmunicator (?? that’s what it’s called right). It’s Wade, dressed in a nice suit, wondering where she is, and that Ron can only stall for so long. She looks at the time; she’s late.

So, after one quick final showdown with the lame villain, she hurries on to where she needs to be.

She arrives, then changes from her spy clothes to a formal dress quickly to blend in easily with the unsuspecting crowd

She finds Ron. They kiss. And she explains why she’s late.

“Hope the new guy wasn’t too much trouble for you,” says Ron in a slightly worrisome tone.

“It was no big,” says Kim. “Really.”

He doesn’t go on missions with her anymore, as his new job or something (idk what???) keeps him pretty busy. She does it solo now, which he low key hates and wishes he could still be there to make sure she’s safe.

Their conversation is cut short by Kim’s dad, who begins a speech about how happy he is to have Ronald, officially, join the family.

Kim and Ron are about to be married and this is their engagement party.

Okay, so the beginning revolves around Kim doing solo missions and Ron freaking out about it, wanting her to be safe—which eventually pressures Kim into joining Global Justice. (They’ve been nagging for her to join the team anyway.)

She struggles to adapt to global justice’s rules. In fact, she doesn’t really agree with most of the things they have her do. But she can’t put her finger on why yet.

She’s just happy Ron is less stressed about her going on missions now.

The conflict comes when she encounters the new villain again, this time with global justice at her side.

She probably tells the team to go easy on the villain, and global justice just goes guns blazing on the guy (like, the villain is level 1 baddie at worst and global justice treats him like he’s a terrorist basically).

And maybe (since this is Adult Kim Possible, not Teenage Kim Possible) the villain is killed.

Kim is horrified. The villain is surrendering, but global justice is showing no mercy.

To put it simply, she discovers quickly that global justice is super corrupt.

She goes to a bar or somewhere to think.

She wants to quit, and almost does—but an encounter with a familiar face convinces her she should stay: Shego

Kim learns that team go worked under global justice, and that’s basically what corrupted her.

She tells Kim that good doesn’t really exist in the world—just “lawful” bad and “villain” bad. She chose to become a villain because she wanted control back in her life. If she was just gonna be bad anyway, she at least wanted to have fun doing it.

Kim, after talking with Shego, decides to investigate further before doing anything drastic and lets Ron, and Wade, know what’s going on in the meantime.

Kim’s sent on another mission with global justice. Here they meet a more dangerous and more competent villain who is trying to take over the world.

This villain proves to be a real threat, a much greater threat than the other guy. Maybe even some of Kim’s team get killed in action (characters who she’s bonded with are killed and it’s a huge wake up call for her).

They don’t win the fight. And eventually they’re given orders to retreat. But Kim gets separated from her team and a big explosion knocks her out.

She’s seen lying unconscious on the ground. The villain approaches her, but they’re blasted away with green plasma.

Kim gets dragged out of frame.

Commercial break.

She awakes, dizzy and light headed and turns to see Shego driving Drakken’s flying car away from all the chaos.

But she’s too hurt to say thank you, or even to stay conscious.

She awakes again in the hospital.

“KP! You’re awake,” Ron says, pulling her into an embrace. She shudders in pain. He lets go. “Sorry.”

Her parents and global justice are there too. But Shego, unsurprisingly, is nowhere in sight.

She explains what happened. And how Shego saved her.

She’s convinced they need Shego’s help to win the fight.

Global Justice dismisses her plan, and they leave to fight without her, ordering Kim not to interfere.

She’s bandaged up but still hurt. Global Justice is planning another corrupt attack or something. And they leave Kim to heal.

She convinces Ron that they need to find Shego to win the fight (for whatever reason. Maybe the villain is an old team go foe and Shego’s defeated him before, idk).

He reluctantly agrees, but only if he can go with her to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

They contact Wade and have him locate Shego.

And they venture out together on a mission, like old times. Even getting a ride from someone (maybe the person she gets a ride from is the first person she ever helped after the launch of her website).

Drakken and Shego consider themselves “retired” from the villainy business. I figure they got a hefty paycheck for saving the world in the finale, which was basically the government paying them to be quiet and stop being villains. Kim and Ron find them living “domesticated” lives somewhere seclusive.

(Now whether drakken and shego are together together here would probably be left ambiguous to let the audience decide whether they are or aren’t a thing—but also it’s a little weird Shego would still be at his side if they weren’t together. So in my headcanon they are a couple here.)

Shego does not want to help. She refuses to work with global justice again.

Drakken still has a big ego, so he sees it as the world needing his help again. And he’s happy to oblige with the assumption that he’ll be compensated for his genius.

Eventually Kim convinces Shego to help. And they make a plan to defeat the baddie before going off to fight.

The four of them are fighting the henchmen or whoever, mirroring how it was at the end of the series in graduation.

Eventually they split up. Drakken and Ron stay deal with the henchman outside while Kim and Shego go inside to face the baddie.

Here might be a fun place to confirm the shego and drakken coupling by having them openly kiss goodbye before they part and Kim and Ron finding it awkward:

Ron rubs the back of his neck. “Oh… so you’re still a thing, huh?”

Drakken’s brow furrows. “Yes, we’re still a thing! Why wouldn’t we be?!”

Global justice isn’t there yet, which Kim and Shego both find very odd.

The big baddie reveals himself and a fight breaks out.

Plot twist:

Eventually they overpower the baddie and nearly take him down, but then global justice comes in and stops them.

And basically they learn that global justice creates and controls villains to stay relevant in society. They format a narrative that makes them look good, and whatever Kim and Shego are doing is messing with that narrative.

And so global justice tries to eliminate them.

But, of course, ron and drakken make it to them on time before anything happens and the four of them defeat the baddie.

Conclusion

Global Justice shuts down and the leaders get arrested. They make the front page for being corrupt.

Kim probably asks Shego if she wants to team up and fight crime together. And Shego declines because, though she’s retired, she’s still a baddie at heart.

Side note: In Venture Bros (another tv show), there’s two factions: the OSI (who are basically the good guys) and the Guild (who are the villains). It’s all done with rules and regulations, so there are heroes and villains but it’s all done by the book. All that explained, I can totally see Kim and Shego setting something like that up in the Kim Possible universe. Kim’s in charge of the heroes and Shego’s in charge of the villains. Rules and regulations are set in place, and there are consequences if you break them, but it’s still very much a world of heroism and villainy.

Anyway,

It ends with Kim and Ron getting married.

Maybe there’s a wedding montage where characters from the show appear and they’re older: Monique, the twins, Bonnie, etc.

Drakken and Shego are also there. Maybe Drakken accidentally catches Kim’s bouquet and turns to Shego, embarrassed.

And… roll credits

[breoasis]

hii i love your ocs they look amazing could you tell us more about them?

hihi if this is about the new sketches i just made then there's so much i could tell you about them and at the same time so little things to talk about..... but let's go you're in here for a ride this is gonna be long

So those ocs are from left to right: Eli, Gala, Gavriel and Loreto, all belonging to the same universe, but i've had them for so long that their stories and world building and everything has changed so many times that nothing about them makes sense really (and i'm considering changing everything again to be less fantasy,, maybe, idk). Let me tell you about each one of those in order now under the cut:

> Eli: full name Elijah but i'm considering changing it to Elías because i don't want any of my ocs to have an english name anymore. This one is my favorite of favorites, he is my babygirl and my wet piece of gargabe of a son <3 He's the main character of my oc world and any other oc i have revolves around him somehow. The thing about this guy is that he transforms into a dragon and this only makes sense because i made him when i was 13 (and i am 24 now), so please bear with me... i was an early teen and that was the coolest thing to me at the time... anyway everything about him, from his story to his appearance, has changed multiple times but i kept that trait (the dragon thing) because i think it's funny but it also makes me cringe every time i have to say it. Also he's my pfp. Sadly the only thing i can tell you rn about this guy's story is that he's been travelling and surviving on his own for -reasons- and meeting new people through his travels, nothing specific because, again, i might change everything

> Gala: probably the most recent one out of these four, still from 2017-ish so she's been around the block for quite a while already. She's one of the only who's story probably stayed the same through all these years. She's the daughter of a duchess who rules/controls over a region and its people, so high class, rich and likes to show it. She has an older brother who was one of my favorite ocs for a while. In relation to the oc stories, Eli had to work for her family for some time and they grew close together, even though he was there to just do chores around the house. Gala doesn't have any friends due to her position and appreciates the company of someone her age even if it's a house worker and lower class. She's just a plain human tho, nothing fantasy or magical about her.

> Gavriel: or Gav/Gavi for short. I made this guy around 2016 for a roleplay group thingy and eventually, when that thing ended, i threw him into the pit that is this oc universe because i liked his design. He and Loreto (girl on his right) are both orphans and grew together as siblings. He had some weird "powers" i don't know how to describe without a doodle for you to get an image of it, but the origin of those has changed so many times already i don't even remember most of it. In older iterations of his story he had been experimented on and that's kind of how he got it i think?? his sister thought the experiment was gonna be good for him but it just fucked him up (i know this makes no sense i'm very sorry)

> Loreto: the older out of ALL of my current ocs, the first drawing i made of her was in 2011/2012 i believe, she belonged to another oc universe, looked far different and had another name, but i rescued her for this one because, again, i liked her design. She's around 15 years older than Gav and used to be like the mayor? of a town? She was more of a villain without meaning it really, that's the only backstory thing i remember about her right now, sorry. Also, she's missing half an arm and sometimes uses a mechanical arm as a substitute but it obviously doesn't work the same as a real arm. Gav braids her hair every morning since she can't do it by herself.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Kirby Things I Plan to Draw at Some Point

Making a list of things I want to draw and plan to draw at some point once I have more time just so I can keep track of all of it and get people’s thoughts on it/see if anyone is interested in it. Here are all of the ideas I have under the cut.

- Susie redemption arc comic

I definitely want to draw this after I finish up Knightfall in Dream Land and I’ve started doing sketches to plan it out. The goal of this comic will be to redeem Susie and also set up a friendship/eventual romance between her and Taranza since I ship them. After the events of Planet Robobot, Bandana Dee discovers that Susie is still on Popstar and informs Dedede, who sends Kirby to stop her from causing harm to the planet again. But after finding Susie and seeing that she no longer has the resources to mechanize anything or anyone Kirby befriends her and tries to introduce her to his other friends.

They’re understandably wary of her given what she’s done to their world and what she’s done to Meta Knight, so Kirby gets the not so bright idea to try and get Susie to apologize to Meta Knight and promise not to mechanize anyone else so that his other friends will feel more relaxed around her. This goes about as well as you’d expect, Meta Knight and his crew are all still angry at her (and Susie doesn’t think that she did anything wrong at this point and doesn’t see a need to apologize) so Kirby comes up with another idea. He thinks that if Susie experiences something similar to what she put Meta Knight through then she’ll know what it feels like and will understand why he’s upset. This is where Taranza comes in.

They all go to Floralia and Kirby asks Taranza to use his puppeteering magic to possess Susie, Taranza and Susie both agree to this but Susie doesn’t find the experience of being puppeted to be all that distressing. Meta Knight is tired of her being on Popstar at this point and Susie wants to return to her home planet, so Meta decides that he and his crew will personally take her back to her home world on the Halberd to get her off of the planet as quickly as possible so she won’t harm anybody else. Dedede, Bandee, Kirby, and Taranza come along (as extra muscle in case Susie tries anything on the ship) and they set off for Susie’s home planet.

- Daroach backstory comic

An associate of one of Daroach’s old flames shows up asking Daroach for a favor. Daroach’s ex is the leader of a rival gang, and Daroach hasn’t seen her since she abruptly broke up with him many years ago when they were both young adults. I know some people like to give Kirby characters specific numerical ages, but my headcanon is that Kirby characters don’t age like humans do/different species age differently/real life years between the games releasing doesn’t necessarily equate to years passing for the characters (just look at Adeleine, she’s still a child in Star Allies even though that game was released almost two decades after Crystal Shards lmao) so I don’t like to assign characters specific numerical ages, but I do headcanon them to be in specific age ranges (like child, teen, young adult, older adult, etc.). At the time he and his ex split up Daroach and his ex are both really young adults, probably the equivalent to an 18 or 19 year old, and Daroach in the present during the events of the games is quite a bit older, probably the equivalent of being in his mid 30s. Anyways, the associate wants to bring Daroach to his ex so that he and his ex can discuss some very important matters/talk about some things that were left unresolved when they broke up.

- Short comic explaining what Taranza and Dedede were doing before they went to help Kirby defeat Sectonia

This would be a fairly short comic explaining how Taranza ended up teaming up with Dedede to help Kirby at the end of Triple Deluxe. I wanted to give my take on what he was up to after Sectonia blasted him away and how he decided to switch sides and help Kirby in the end. It’ll also explain how he becomes the king of Floralia since in my AU of things he becomes the king after Sectonia’s death and the People of the Sky serve as royal advisors/an advisory council to assist him.

- Comic explaining how Dedede and Meta Knight ended up as a couple

I ship Dedede and Meta Knight and they’re married in my AU, but this would be a comic explaining how they went from being good friends to growing apart for a while to reconciling and dating. The start of this comic will be set right after the Revenge of Meta Knight subgame from Kirby Super Star/Ultra. Dedede is furious at Meta Knight and plans to banish him and his crew from Dream Land until Kirby intervenes and demands that Dedede should let them stay, since Kirby knows that Meta Knight isn’t a bad guy even though he did a bad thing and Dedede owes Kirby a favor after all of the times Kirby has saved him in the past. Dedede agrees not to banish the knights but his friendship with Meta Knight appears to be over. The two of them end up becoming distant with each other, and during this period of time they only see each other when they’re both spending time with Kirby and end up going off on their own solo adventures (explaining why Meta Knight isn’t in Dream Land 3 or Kirby 64 and why Dedede isn’t in Amazing Mirror) until the events of Squeak Squad. After Kirby beats up Dedede and Daroach steals the chest containing Dark Nebula, Dedede finally decides to call up Meta Knight so they can figure out what to do about it (I’m going with the headcanon that the two of them fought and sealed away Dark Nebula before meeting Kirby so that’s why Dedede has the chest that contains Dark Nebula and why Meta Knight knows about it). They have a heart to heart talk with each other, clarify some misunderstandings, and reconcile and admit their feelings for one another.

- Short comic about Taranza and Susie helping each other to grieve their lost loved ones

This will be a short comic centered around Taranza, Susie, and an OC of mine who is Taranza’s mother. This will be set after Susie is redeemed. Susie and Taranza have become close friends after her redemption, and she goes to visit him in Floralia regularly. One day when she visits Taranza and his mom are about to go visit Taranza’s father’s grave since it’s the anniversary of his passing (in my AU Taranza also has a dead dad like Susie but his dad died when he was a kid so he’s had more time to process it/grieve even though it’s still painful). Susie offers to go with them to support Taranza even though it’s hard for her since she’s still struggling with the loss of her father, so the three of them visit the grave and leave some flowers. Taranza is grateful that she went with them and gets the idea to help Susie set up a little memorial for her father so she has a place to visit/leave flowers for him since he doesn’t have a grave/there’s nothing left of him. I thought it would be sweet to depict the two of them helping each other through the grief of losing a loved one. Taranza is still grieving over Sectonia too and Susie also helps him work through that but I thought I’d also give him a dead dad so the two of them could relate to each other over losing a parent (and also to create a parallel between Taranza and my OC who’s his mom by having them both lose someone they were in love with in a very tragic way).

- Comic explaining how Taranza and Susie start dating

This will be set soon after Star Allies, so the mage sisters and Hyness have been redeemed and join the cast. Susie and Taranza’s friendship has grown even stronger, and all of their other friends get the impression that their feelings for each other go beyond friendship… Dedede and Meta Knight decide to intervene and act as the “dad friends” that give their younger friends a little nudge to confess their feelings to each other. In my AU Dedede and Taranza become good friends after Triple Deluxe and Meta and Susie become good friends after Susie is redeemed and apologizes for what she did to him, so I thought it’d be nice to have Dedede and Meta give Taranza and Susie some guidance.

- Comic explaining how Dedede and Meta Knight got engaged/showing their wedding

I’ve established that they’re a couple in my AU but I haven’t actually explained how they proposed to each other or what their wedding was like, so this comic would show that. I could see both of them proposing to each other instead of only one of them proposing lmao… and instead of wearing engagement rings or wedding rings I think I’d have both of them wear bracelets instead. They’d wear their engagement bracelets on one wrist and their wedding bracelets on the other, my explanation for why we don’t see their bracelets in the games is because they’re hidden under their gloves/mittens most of the time lmao…

Is all of this stuff that you guys would be interested in seeing? I would really like to draw all of this at some point but if I get around to it it’s likely not going to be for a while since I’m pretty busy with school/work things. But I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts on the ideas I have and any suggestions for other stuff to draw! My ask box and my DMs are always open, I love hearing from everybody!

[mia-talks-toons]

(S1E3) The Owl House: How Companies Disrespect Animated Shows

A relatively new show to join the ranks of some of Disney’s BEST animated shows, The Owl House was created in 2020 by Dana Terrace, and is the last of the Disney Channel’s serialized cartoon shows (more on that later…). It follows the adventures of Luz Noceda, a regular teen girl, who was magically transported into another world, named the Boiling Isles, full of witches and (friendly) demons and all sorts of neat creatures. There, she trains with her mentor, Eda the Owl Lady (and a demon named King), on how to become a witch and use magic, even though she, as a human, has no natural magical powers of her own. The story is, in my opinion, extremely well done, and I fell in LOVE with every single character. The only issue is that it felt a liiiittle bit too short… And let me tell you why.

While the second season was airing, it was revealed that The Owl House would end prematurely, and the show’s third season, which was already planned out, would be shortened to three specials, instead of the usual 20ish 22-minute episodes a season would have. Many ideas had to be cut, and a lot of character development had to be shortened in the process. A lot of fans were sad, disappointed, and outright outraged, including me! Such an amazing show didn't deserve the short end of the stick. The question on most of the fandom’s mind was “Why?”, and Disney tried to answer.

Dana Terrace (The show’s creator) has gone on record saying that the show didn't fit the Disney "brand". She mentioned the fact that Disney TVA wanted to move away from serialized content, as it’s mostly older kids, teens, and adults who could keep up with those kinds of shows. The Disney Channel wanted to keep their target audience a tad younger, so that meant getting rid of shows with linear storylines and introducing more shows that you could jump into at any episode.

However, many fans have speculated that this was because the show contains a lot of queer themes and characters, and Disney has shown over and over again that even though they may seem progressive, they show many homophobic tendencies. Examples of this are removing gay scenes or characters from their movies when they’re released in homophobic countries, and boasting about their “first gay/lesbian/bi/trans character!!!” while only giving them a blink-and-you-miss-it moment that mentions their identity. Knowing this, it feels like Disney’s intentions were different than they lead us to believe.

No matter what the REAL reason was for the cancellation, I’m still extremely upset. If it’s for the anti-queer reason, it would hurt, as I grew up watching Disney movies and shows, and shortening a show because of characters who are LGBT, just like me, would frankly be offensive. But the other reason would hurt just as much. Animation is constantly referred to as a “children’s genre”, both by the general public and the film industry itself. Anyone older than mid-teens is often discouraged from watching animated shows and movies unless they’re specifically targeted at that demographic. Because of this, a lot of people are missing out on some really great stories and incredible visuals. My own mother made fun of me for preferring the animated Mulan movie to its abysmal 2020 live-action counterpart. I LOVE animation, and I feel like it’s constantly being mistreated by those who are meant to defend it. And that leads to beautiful pieces of art being, well, cancelled and shortened.

But hey, at least The Owl House got to properly end, right? Unlike some other shows…

[trojanteapot]

Hey anon, I don't know if you'll ever see this but I just want you to know that it shouldn't matter what some writers or storyboarders or others on the team think or say about Simon, what matters is what he means to you.

What he means to me is someone who has had a lot of pain and trauma in his life, and as such has developed maladaptive coping mechanisms for them. So I too found myself relating a lot to him, despite his villain status.

And let's not forget, he is also very young (if he was 18 in Book 3, I would be 10 years older than him now!) so it is tragic that he was never given more time to change before his life was cut short. I think his formative years had led him to cling to false ideas in order to find a sense of stability and belonging in such a cruel and unpredictable environment, and it makes sense that he would find it hard to let go of those ideas, even though it led him down such dark paths and to do some awful, heinous actions.

If we think about the teens who grew up believing terrible stuff IRL, it doesn't mean they will immediately stop believing it once they turn 18 and go to college. Sometimes it will take years for young people to unlearn the toxic beliefs of their upbringing.

And I think that people who dismiss Simon are not seeing the bigger picture. My friend who is a middle school teacher, and who also has attended training seminars for how to deal with at-risk youth, say that she really thinks of Grace and Simon's situation as similar to kids who grew up in neglectful/abusive homes or who are in the foster system. The Train itself is arguably a metaphor for systems like that. She also sees Simon's death as a tragedy. Partly it was his fault, but another part is also the circumstances he ended up in. And because Grace and Simon are different people, how they cope with the exact same situation may not mean that they will both "have the same opportunity to get better/change."

Just like how IRL the foster system means well, or the mental health institutions also mean well and want to help, they cannot help everyone, and the people who slip through the cracks are not "unfixable" or "irrevocably broken" or god forbid, "irredeemable."

We understand that tragic things happen in real life and these systems are NOT foolproof. And the Train itself is also fallable and will fail its passengers even if it means well or tries to help. The Train adapts itself to better help passengers but I don't think it will ever be perfect.

We see in Book 4 when it was the 80s, and Ryan and Min-Gi never got any explanation for what was happening on the Train. And worse, back then they forced everybody to wear uniforms and took their stuff away. And One-One (or One) was more ruthless and machine-like. In fact, some of Amelia's rebellion even became a positive because she allowed passengers to keep their belongings instead of take them away!

If somebody like Tulip had boarded the Train earlier and convinced One-One to enact fixes to the Train's rules to make them more accessible (such as explaining what numbers mean), maybe Grace and Simon wouldn't have misunderstood the numbers so much.

If the Cat hadn't been Simon's denizen, and it was a different, more caring one, then maybe Simon wouldn't have even been on the Train long enough to form the wrong idea about numbers. He could have been just a regular person. And that is tragic.

Anyway anon, I hope you're doing well. I wish you peace. <3

i feel so hurt and upset about Simon he needed to heal too

i can't sleep at night sometimes

I know this is so random but i don't care i feel so hurt by the idea of everyone healing but him dead and bound to be forgetten. .. i want him feel good i want to get him out of there.

I've said this before but as much as I'd like to see the series to its planned end, I'm not that unhappy about not getting season 5. It would be really hard for me to see Amelia get a redemption or her exit when she went on the train as a fully mature adult in her 30s, and did wayyyy worse things than Simon did. Although she was mentally unstable at the time she got on the train, it doesn't seem like she had a history of mental illness before Alrick died.

What Simon did to Grace and Hazel was fucked up, I can wrap my head around his justification for killing Tuba and I'm not the person to debate about this bc I straight up didn't like Tuba. She went out of her way to kidnap and scare Grace and Simon, who would have probably found the exit to the car and went on their way the next day without her interference, and I'm of the opinion that she put both herself and Hazel in danger with her little prank. I know we wouldn't have a story without it, and it doesn't justify her death, but literally from their first interaction she showed Simon she can be hostile and dangerous. And while she warmed up to Grace (according to Grace lol I didn't see much friendly interaction between them at all, just Grace enjoying/admiring the way she interacted with Hazel), Simon always got attitude from her, I can't blame him for not warming up to her.

Simon might have been 18 at the time of his season but let's be honest, both he and Grace were very immature and justifiably so. They only had each other and their delusions for years and years before they became guardians themselves. The train has proven itself to be dangerous, and proved how high the stakes are when he died, but people act like he was a fucking monster for doing what he thought he needed to protect himself, grace and hazel from a perceived threat. He could have been a little more tactful with explaining what happened, or lied about it, but like tbh as a neurodivergent person myself who sees Simon as someone who is on the autism spectrum, I REALLY struggle with lying and deceiving people so I can understand why he just blurted out the truth without any thought.

I do think one of the most irredeemable things he did was dehumanize Grace and trap her in her memories, whether or not he knew it could kill her (I assume he didn't bc the Cat as usual didn't explain shit to him) the way he pushed her over and walks away makes me nauseous.

But I certainly don't think he deserved to die for that, and I think the series would have been a lot better if instead of kicking her off the train again (which at this point in the scene felt kind of slapstick i'm ngl), Simon finally broke out of his paranoid and delusional thought patterns and they were able to drag everyone back into the mall car for a heart to heart.

In my head in episodes 9 and 10 he's a lot like Catra in The Portal episodes, but instead of getting 2 more seasons after his fall from grace (lol) to recover and heal and fix his issues, he just got killed instead.

And it sucks because dude was clearly mentally ill and traumatized, and as someone who has mental illness and trauma that can make me act out sometimes too, who also struggles to read the room and understand what people want from me if they don't tell me directly, who ALSO had parents that didn't have my best interests as even a consideration to whatever they could gain from me, it kind of reinforces my anxiety which tells me that I deserve to suffer because of x y z stupid thing I did or said 5, 10, even 20 years ago.

(and before anyone says simon had all the chances to change and grow that grace did, please rewatch the season, he absolutely did not and all of the events that led to grace growing as a person happened when simon wasn't around, yes he was immature in a lot of moments but dude literally did not have a normal adolescence and to expect him to act like a fucking adult all the time after that is ridiculous)

[youarejesting]

Wings Unfolded

Rating: All (mentions of death) Pairing: Ryu Minhyuk and friends Genre: Drama, Mystery, Magic. Words: 1.7k Summary:  Minhyuk finds out his magic is real when he makes his friend disappear. Suspected for her disappearance, he manages to go free. Knowing she is safe they live happily together until some meddling teens create new wounds for Minhyuk. AKA The life of Bella.

Arabella Read was my desk mate. Her family moved to South Korea many years ago, her father got a well-paid job and they lived comfortably. Her family was large, she had four siblings each older than herself, and because of this, she had no real expectations of her life. Though she was relieved from the stress of good grades and getting into college, she still tried her best. She just had the luxury to have a little more fun than most of the students.

It was odd coming from a family with different ideals, especially me her desk mate Ryu Min-Hyuk. I was such a studious kid but I was honestly miserable. She had recently learned a few sleight-of-hand magic tricks from her father and she made sure to show them to me whenever she could. In those short seconds, it was like I could forget about the exams and books and genuinely have a good time.

She would playfully pester, but I grew more and more unsettled as the days went on. It was hard to smile when my head was filled with worries. Her family caused quite the commotion, her father’s red hair, had been passed down to all of his children. I had noticed she had been previously bullied, but she never let it worry her.

I sat alone in the hospital bed my legs curled up to my chest, and I heard her step into the room. Her bag had a distinct jingle of keyrings that gave her away before her flaming red hair came into view. “Min-Hyuk?”

I turned to her, my eyes landing on her small form in the doorway and she smiled softly in return. She seemed unable to make a coherent sentence that expressed her care and concern for my condition. Perhaps she was worried that I would think she was pitying me. She stayed silent and cut fresh fruit. I saw the lights of the amusement park illuminate the afternoon sky, the top of the Ferris wheel was just in view from the window.

“Do you want to go to the amusement park?” she questioned, “My mum gets free admission because of her food stall, I can get us in if you want?”

My eyes met hers but I didn’t say a word, “Would you like to see a magic trick?” she asked with a raise of my brow. I watched her shuffle a pack of cards showing me the trick and I felt my lips pulled up in a small smile.”You can have the pack of cards if you like, and you can learn some tricks while you are in the hospital, my dad always says the real magic happens when the audience smile.”

“If you can make them believe…” She held out her hand and with a swish, she was holding a small flower, “then the magic will come to life”

I smiled taking the flower and watching her as she packed up the extra fruit into a small container and placed it beside my bed. She watched me play with the pack of cards, giving pointers and tips. She stopped by a few times and dropped off books on magic and more and I was lost in a world that truly called to me. She told me she would happily be my assistant and stand by my side on the stage. It made me happy to have her support.

As time went on the tricks and sleight-of-hand became something more, it was somewhere between the mix of books and the bump to my head. The magic I performed was different, I couldn’t control it completely. It wasn’t something I could command, but on special occasions, the magic words would make everything come to life.

I dropped out of school and spent my days at the amusement park. It was the night after one of our shows, I was wearing my black and white suit with a big red bowtie and she was wearing a red sequin dress that matched her crimson hair.

We were practicing a vanishing act, except when I said the words “Annara Sumanara” they felt heavy.

—

“You are under arrest for the suspicion of Arabella Read’s disappearance, if you could come with us, sir?” The policeman cuffed me, dragging me out of the theme park past all the children making a scene. I was painted to be a bad guy.

“You were the last person to see her, can you tell us about that night?” The officer questioned

“We were performing on the stage and as we finished we spent the evening trying a new routine,” I said softly rubbing my wrists where the metal cuffs were digging into my flesh.

“We found these in your change room, this is the dress she was wearing the night of her disappearance, can you tell me how they got in your change room.” The officer asked pressing with pictures and pieces of clothing.

“We share a change room, we are one act, so we take turns getting dressed.” I explained, “I didn’t do anything, she isn’t missing. It was a vanishing trick, I was supposed to make her disappear and when I said the words she was gone and I couldn’t find her, I promise you I have no idea where she went. Look at the footage, the whole place has surveillance if she leaves the theatre then you will see where she goes. Otherwise, she is still inside the theatre somewhere.”

“Then where is she, hiding under a sheet, in a box waiting for you to say the magic words?”

“I didn’t do anything.” My words were meek, but I was let free, the park was inspected but there was no sign of Arabella Read. The park was shut down due to the rumors and I had nowhere to go, so I made a home in the theatre.

—

The small music box Ferris wheel was spinning filling the room with a delicate tune, while I was changing my shirt. She gave a few audible kisses and a catcall catching my attention and I turned to face her.

“Ri-Eul, does it hurt?” She asked looking towards my shoulder, the scar was old and silvery against my skin.

“It doesn’t” I smiled reassuringly, it wouldn’t be good to have her fret over such an old wound. I took another shirt and she spoke again.

“Ri-Eul is in pain,” she repeated her voice concentrating on her words.

“Don’t worry. It really doesn’t hurt at all.” I grabbed my shoulder feeling the slight raise of the scar tissue, “It’s just a small remnant of a very old memory.”

I pulled on my shirt quickly, so she wouldn’t have to look at the old injury and buttoned up the shirt quickly.

—

I returned to her calling for me, I walked around the table and saw that meddlesome teenage girl Baek Hana hiding behind the table. I turned on my light and she screamed before collecting herself.

“What is it now?” I asked annoyed that she had broken into my home again. She told me it was because she was interested in me and my magic, but I could see the lies in her eyes. I wasn’t in the mood so I told her to “Come again later.”

Her words got on my nerves and I was unable to stop myself from asking, “Is it really my magic you are interested in, sneaking and peeping around-” There on her lapel was a small camera flashing at me, she was recording. I went to grab the camera and she moved.

“Actually, I am not that interested in magic. Plus if I really was interested I would pay to watch it in a theatre. Why would I come here?” When I pressed for her true reason for entering my home she replied with something I wasn’t expecting. “To get evidence. I thought I should let others know what is going on, in a place like this.”

She showed the video of the old man who had harassed Ah-Yi and in the video, it looked like I was trying to kill him. She began demanding answers, but the final straw was when she said my magic wasn’t real.

“I don’t care if you think I am totally crazy, but my magic?” I hissed clutching her wrist wanting to drag her from my home, so I could finally be in peace. I hadn’t made my best friend vanish with fake magic, I don’t make things come alive with tricks. “My magic is real.”

She threatened me with the footage and when I went to grab it she bumped into the heavy ornate cage on the table. The cage toppled over and the wooden branch inside fell crushing Arabella who had hit her head hard against the top of the cage. Her small body was struggling against the heavy wood her small cries were weak and strained.

In a thoughtless rage, I grabbed Baek Hana by the throat wanting her to feel the same pain as my Bella, but another cry had me letting go and rushing to Bella’s side. I was trying to pull the cage door open but it was jammed in, I tried to shake it free, tried to hit and claw at the cage to free Arabella from her suffering.

“Bella!” My tears were flowing as I struggled and finally, the door came free. I held her in my arms and placed her in a small bed. She must be in shock, but a part of me knew that she was dying.

—

“The police are looking for you, you have to hide someplace else.” Yoon Ah-Yi said softly

“My Bella is very sick right now.” I replied trying to control the shaking in my voice as I looked down at my longest friend “There was just a little accident.”

“I can take her to the hospital, but you have to go somewhere else.” Yoon Ah-Yi began but my tears were unable to stop.

“Bella, are you okay?” I sniffled trying to help her feel safe, her mind was calling out for company, but she was unable to say a word. “Can you hear me? I’m here”

“I will take her to the hospital.”

“Not the hospital, Bella says she doesn’t want to spend her last days in the hospital. She said she is not afraid of death, but she doesn’t want to be lonely.”

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 20 - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

My official gif maker @abimess, thank you.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 20 - Part XX - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

You don’t sleep for long, there is a sound of something breaking that makes you blink confusedly as you move on your bed.

Then you realize that it is the wood up your head that is moving, along with a red magic that you know very well.

You look forward, only to find Wanda with an impassive look on her face as she merges the bed into one.

“I’m sleeping with you from now on.” She says simply as she finishes, and you lay back on the mattress, not sure of what to say about that.

You hold your breath as you hear her taking off her shoes, changing to her pajamas next, staring on the roof of the tent as she does it.

She pulls the blanket to lie down, and then is mimicking your position.

"Would...would it be okay if I hugged you?" she asks after a moment, and you feel your heart race.

"I'd like that." You mumble clumsily, turning to the opposite side.

And it takes half a second for Wanda to wrap her arms around your waist, burying her face in your shoulders, inhaling your perfume and making you blush heavily.

Your legs entwine from underneath the comforter, and you feel more secure than you ever have before.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs against your skin. You think she is talking about what happened with the horcrux, and you just nod softly, but she repeats the apology against your ear, intertwining her hands in front of your belly, and you realize she is talking about everything.

"I love you." She confesses next, and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

The hug gets tighter, and you sink your face into the pillow, allowing yourself to cry.

And Wanda doesn't let go, even when you sob, and it takes a while, but you finally fall asleep. And when you do, she stays.

//-//-//-//

You woke up first. And you don’t wanna get up. Not when you have Wanda wrapped around you like this, your face buried her neck, as you both turned around during the night, and now your legs are completely entwined, and you are practically lying on top of her.

And all you do is sink even deeper against her body, sighing against her skin. She smells so good.

"-morning." She whispers hoarsely, still with her eyes closed, her hands around your body moving slowly against your back down and up, and you just murmur into her skin wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

"We should get up." Wanda says after a moment in silence, not seeming to really wish to do so.

"No, thank you." You retort and your voice comes out muffled against her neck, the vibration making her laugh.

"We need to darling, I think we have some lessons. "She says and you mumble softly, the curiosity to pursue the story Agatha was telling is enough to make you pull away.

But when you are about to let go of Wanda, she pulls on your forearm, and you look at her with confusion, but she moves forward and kisses you firmly.

It's slow, and soft. It makes you sigh, so you kiss her back, sinking right back onto the bed as her hands wrap around your hair to deepen the kiss.

When her tongue asks for passage, you see stars, melting under her touch. Wanda smiles against your lips, pulling you by the shoulders to lie on top of her.

But before you can do so, the sound of footsteps catches your attention, along with a soft hiss, and you grumble before pulling away.

Throwing your face back into the pillow, you try to calm your breathing and rapid heartbeat as Agatha strolls through the tent, until she comes to your room.

"Are the sleeping beauties going to get up, or should I bring coffee in bed?" She teases with her arms crossed as Wanda hides her smile as she notices your state. "You two know this isn't a honeymoon trip, right?"

"Stop being so bitter, Agatha." Wanda complains as she sits up. "We'll be right there."

"And a good day to us, ladies." The older witch retorts before leaving.

Wanda laughs softly, turning her attention back to you as you scramble up on the bed to sit down as well.

"How are you?" she asks, intertwining your hands on top of the mattress, and you let your gaze roam over her face, biting your lips against the urge to kiss her again.

"Fine." You murmur half hoarsely, from sleep or lust, Wanda will never know. "And you?"

"Better." She says with a nod, and you feel your heart race. Better with you here.

Wanda squeezes your hand before letting go, and she stands up, looking at you one last time before walking off toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you throw yourself back against the mattress, trying to push away the feeling of her tongue against yours and focus on the fact that you were even closer to completing your mission with one less horcrux to destroy.

//-//-//-//

“Where are we now?” You asked as you observed the surroundings. It’s the entrance of an old garage, in the corner of a city. But the real Agatha ignores your question as she guides you two inside, further into the memory.

Your dad, just a teen boy, maybe eighteen, is inside, working on a large machine, it seems that he was really a muggle mechanic, since there were cars all around, dismantled or not.

"Stark." It is Agatha from the memories who says, and startles your father slightly, who almost drops the screwdriver. But when he looks up, he smiles.

"Professor Harkness!" He says getting up, and wiping the grease on his apron quickly before greeting her. "You really did it!"

"I told you I would come." She says, and you are surprised at the affectionate way she looks at your father, "Look at you, Howard, you're so grown up."

Your father laughs, bowing his head softly. "Thank you, professor."

"I only say that because I've known you since you were a child." She humorously clarifies. "And now you are even growing a mustache. Tell me, do muggle girls like that sort of thing?"

Your father laughs with flushed cheeks, and Agatha follows him. Before they can say anything, there are voices and the sound of footsteps approaching, and soon, two people enter.

Wanda chokes softly next to you. "Mama."

You also recognized Magda, because you have seen pictures before. She had the same appearance as in the photos, and you were saddened by this, because she must have died not so long after this memory.

Erik stood beside her, wearing muggles like the woman next to him.

"Professor Harkness, you made it!" He greets politely, hurrying to shake the witch's hand as she smiles. "It's so good to see you again! This is Magda, my wife."

"It's a pleasure, dear."

The memory speeds up, you want to fight Agatha for cutting off Wanda's moment of seeing her mother properly, but the way Wanda strokes her thumb against your hand makes you give up saying anything.

The scene settles down in what you think is the apartment at the top of the garage where they were, all around a table, drinking beers.

"You guys know why I came all this way, don't you?" Agatha says, and seems to have just had a short pause in the conversation, as if everyone had been laughing before and suddenly got quiet. And the tension only increases with her comment.

Her father sighs, nodding. "There is no daily prophet here, but I have met some travelers. They are talking about a war, Agatha." He says worriedly. "But I want to hear it from you. Do you really think that could happen?"

Agatha gives a humorless laugh. "It's already happening." She says, placing her beer on the table, and straightening her posture. "The minister of magic waited too long. And now, this group, these so-called death walkers, or whatever ridiculous name they are thinking of trying, are everywhere. In the ministry, in the diagonal alley, in the Order."

Your father looks really upset, but you notice how uncomfortable Erik looks.

"And do you really think that's what they're after, Agatha?" He asks. "War. Do you think that's what the walkers are after?"

The teacher raises her eyebrow slightly. "What else could it be, besides chaos and complete destruction of our society, Erik?"

His former teacher is unaffected by the snickering, he just gives a half-hearted laugh. " Well, freedom of course." He says, clearing his throat softly. "See, that time we've been here. New York is fascinating. Things are bad for muggles it's true, but for the rest of us, damn. The wizards are doing just fine. They have so much magic here, so much freedom to study what they want. The ministry encourages the discovery of new areas, gives financial support to researchers!"

Agatha crosses her legs, listening to Erik's speech carefully.

When he realizes that he may be defending Mephisto's group too much, he pauses, straightening up. "I'm just trying to say that maybe a change in the British government is exactly what our society needs to evolve, Agatha."

"You know, when Fury told me he wanted to recruit you boys to the order, I told him that children don't fight wars." She declares and you see the boys widen their eyes. "You two know that Katherine is dead, right? That Nick took over leadership of the order in his mother's place, and the first names he wanted were yours."

Your father nods, as does Erik.

"Well, I didn't agree." She says. "I said I knew other wizards, more experienced, more trustworthy. Wizards who didn't flee their homeland to live the American dream."

"That's not-" Your father begins but the look in Agatha's eyes makes him shut up.

"Nick insisted that I come here." She continues. "He said that you have kept in touch by correspondence, and that you continue to have the same, what was the word, moral inclination. But now I wonder if he was really right about that."

"I didn't mean to say that the walkers are right!" Erik exclaims defensively, looking embarrassed, but Agatha just smiles.

"Don't worry, honey." She says as she leans in. "I think that kind of moral difference is exactly what makes this whole conflict interesting."

"That's sadistic of you, Agatha." Howard comments seriously. "We're talking about a war."

"Don't be hypocritical now, Howey." She retorts with a wicked smile. "You think I don't know who the travelers you've been talking to are? Say, the magical trafficking laws are simpler in America, aren't they?"

Your father locks his jaw, but keeps his face up.

"I did what I needed to do to survive here." He says simply, and Agatha laughs.

"Of course you did." She says. "So did we all. And now we have a potential battle ahead of us, something that could change the course of wizarding life for future generations. Tell me, do you intend to stand here fixing machines and pretending that your friends are not dying for your freedom? And I thought you were tired of this kind of attitude, golden boy."

Your father stands up, enraged. But he says nothing, and swallows his pride. He gives Erik one last look before leaving the room.

Agatha sighs softly, turning her attention back to Erik, who has his fists clenched in his lap.

"You know very well that the situation is not so simple." He says and Agatha smiles.

"And you know it's him don't you?" She retorts and Erik clenches his jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you know very well, Erik." Agatha insists. "When I fired him, he didn't stay in England. He came to America with his favorite student."

"Keep your voice down." Erik quickly retorts, looking back a moment before leaning forward. "It's not what you think."

"But I don't think anything." She says. "I'm exactly giving you the chance to explain yourself, before I draw my own conclusions."

Erik takes a deep breath, and turns to Magda, squeezing her hands.

"Honey, can you give us a minute?" He asks, and Wanda's mother looks like she's going to say no, before nodding.

She walks off in the same direction as her father, and then Erik and Agatha are alone.

"Professor Faustus has asked me for support, Agatha." He says. "He was out of a job, and with his name tainted with rumors that no one has proven. And he never treated us badly, so I helped him."

"You kept this from Howard? I thought you were best friends." Agatha teases but Erik laughs humorlessly.

"Of course not." He says. "Who do you think paid for the tickets?"

"Interesting." She says. "Why tickets?"

"Because he was being investigated for the dark magic rumors." Erik says. "The ministry put a blocker on him. Any magic he tried to do would go straight to the minister's notes. And well, he needed Howey's help to remove the device from behind his neck."

"While he was hiding, I imagine he told you about his wonderful ideas."

"No, Agatha." He says. "Faustus just looked tired. And he felt betrayed, mostly by you. But in general, he complained, and studied. Howey and I would work all day, and he would stay in his room, among the magic books, unable to conjure anything, not even a light spell. I've never seen him so frustrated."

"I'd feel sorry for him, if that wasn't his fault." Agatha murmurs and Erik sighs in agreement.

"A few months after we arrived, Howey got it." Erik recounts. "Tivan gave him the materials he needed, and he freed Faustus from the blocking device in his skin. He thanked us, said he'd write, and then disappeared. We never heard from him again, but the letters from Fury started coming in the next months."

"Did Howard suspect?"

"No." Erik says squirming uncomfortably in his chair. "Howard trusted him, mostly because of the way he stood up for him in school. About supporting him to study mechanics, even if no one else would. But I knew I had to be smart after what happened with Raven."

"He tried to recruit you?"

Erik sighs. "No, Agatha. But he will."

"I know." She says. "That's why I came."

" I should have guessed that you don't make friendly visits, even to your best students."

Agatha laughs softly, leaning her arm on the carpet. "You think just because you can conjure a patronus you're my best student, Erik? I helped establish the order of merlin. You are not even remotely the most talented wizard I have taught."

"You are hurting my feelings." The man jokes, making the other woman smile.

"How will this work then, Erik?" She asks. "Are you going to accept Fury's offer? Or will you follow your heart?"

The man smiles, standing up. "That just concerns me, and my wife, don't you think?"

"Actually, no." Agatha retorts without sounding angry as Erik moves to collect the beer bottles and put them in the trash. "In fact, I think you even need to leave her."

Erik laughs in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"A muggle, Erik." She says as if it's obvious. "You're going to drag her into a war? That's cruel."

"Magda is stronger than you imagine."

"I'm sure she is." The witch says getting up as well. "But that is until she is hit by the first spell."

“Agatha, please.”

“Muggles can't handle magic like we can, Erik." She insists seriously. "You know that. A simple stupefy could kill her."

"I love her." He says turning away. "And I'm not going to England without her. If she decides to stay, then I will too."

"That's disappointing." Agatha comments, but Erik doesn't flinch, crossing his arms. The witch sighs. "Then do me a favor. Howard, at least he, needs to go. We can't afford to lose allies."

"I'll talk to him." Erik assures. "But you know that with all that his father has done, he doesn't want to go back to London anytime soon."

"This is so much bigger than a family feud." Agatha retorts. "Tell him that, and he'll feel guilty enough to accept it."

"Your mind games are wicked, professor." Erik says before nodding in agreement, leaving.

Agatha sighs, getting pensive.

Just then Magda walks back into the room.

"Miss Harkness?"

"Hello, dear."

"I just came to ask if you're going already? Erik looked upset, but I can walk you to the door. It's good manners."

The memory shakes until they are outside, and Magda leads her to the same place she should have appeared before.

"Please, before you go, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetie."

Magda hesitates, but takes a deep breath and says. "If Erik stays, what are the chances of this war reaching us?"

Agatha looks at the woman for a moment. "I don't think there is a way to escape what is happening in England, Magda. And if we lose, it's not just the witches who will suffer the consequences."

Magda nods in understanding, then steps forward. "Tell me how I can help you."

"He wouldn't approve, but I can't watch everything fall apart around us. Tell me how I can help."

Agatha smiles, touching Magda's shoulder. You hold your breath, as does Wanda, who also notices the magic in the witch's fingertips, and the purple color in her eyes.

"Leave him, dear." She says. "But it needs to be natural, okay? As best as I can, he must not suspect it was my idea. Erik would never put you in danger, but he wouldn't leave you alone either. So you need to end it all."

Magda has tears in her eyes, but she just nods mechanically. And the memory becomes blurred.

Wanda is tense beside her, and you are silent.

"That doesn't make sense." You mutter. "Carol told me that Magda was in Sokovia, and that-"

"She's not my mother, is she?" Wanda cuts you off, looking at the floor. The real Agatha sighs, as you look at the two in confusion.

"How could you tell?" She asks.

"I don't have her eyes."

It was a funny detail about the few pictures of Magda that Erik had in the Maximoff house. All the pictures were old, because they were from muggles. And they were never sharp enough in detail, just good enough for you to be able to recognize the woman in the recollection.

Agatha laughs softly. "Is that all Erik told you about your mother? That you had her eyes?"

Wanda squeezes your hand, and with the other she wipes her cheek.

"Just show me the truth at once, Agatha."

"As you wish."

//-//-//

You stumble gently as you get used to the dirt floor that has stabilized at your feet.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Wanda, but she just nods, smiling weakly before looking back at the memory forming in your eyes.

You were startled by the bright lights in the sky, recognizing them immediately as wandering spells.

Someone just fought here, and it was no small fight.

"Agatha!" Erik shouted, approaching quickly, coming from the corner as if he had been hiding until now, and the teacher had emerged.

Wanda also held her breath as she noticed the large cut on his forehead, the blood dripping down his face.

"T-They've surrounded us..." He says breathlessly, his wand in fists as he stumbles to get closer. "We narrowly won and-"

"Calm down boy." Agatha says as she holds his shoulders, working quickly to heal his wounds. "Where are the others?"

"Further away." Erik replied visuvelmettely exhausted. You could tell he was a little older than the last memory, but he was still young. "Back to the mansion.

"Good, they' ll be safe there." She says as she helps Erik stand properly. "Where's Natalya?"

And Erik chokes, sobbing. You frown in confusion, and Agatha makes a pitying face.

"Oh, Erik."

He cried, shrugging. "She was.... She tried to gain ground. She hit four of them at once. But... But she-"

And he sobbed, and Agatha didn't insist, hugging him.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered.

And the memory trembled until they were back on the mansion's dirt path, almost at the iron driveway, the man visibly calmer, though quite shaken.

"Erik, what about the children?" Agatha asks as she stops walking in front at the gate.

The man looks on the verge of tears again, but only sighs.

"I have no idea, Agatha." He says. "No place is safe in the UK anymore. I can't leave the order to look after them, I don't know what to do."

And Agatha looks at him a moment, before nodding. "I will help you."

You see many flashbacks of memories, Agatha greeting injured order members, then going back to write letters, and checking the news. You think you see flashes of fights too, big duels, before everything stabilizes again.

It's Magda in front of you, and she looks more mature too.

"Years ago, you asked me how I could help you." Agatha spoke behind you, and you startled yourself by jumping to the side, and watching intently as the witch touched Magda's hands. "You saved yourself by leaving him. But you will save his life and the rest of the wizarding world if you accept what I am about to ask of you."

Magda's eyes widened, but she nodded after a moment. Agatha waved her hands, and a cart approached you.

"Run away, Magda." She says. "Their mother had a house, enchanted to protect from invaders on a hill in a small country in Europe." Agatha explains as Magda lets out a surprised exclamation at the babies in the stroller.

"They... are beautiful." She whispers excitedly, touching the children with her fingers, who fall asleep innocently. "What happened, Agatha? Where is Erik?"

"The fight just got bigger, hon." She explains. "Much bigger than we ever expected. Your people are suffering too, but they're saying it's natural disasters."

Magda is shocked, but she speaks again. "Agatha, I am not a witch. I can't protect them."

"That's exactly why you can." Agatha retorts, taking the other woman's hands again. "Go to Sokovia. There are no witch communities there. Hide yourself, hide them. You have no idea how important it is to keep them safe."

"Tell me, then."

Agatha swallows dryly, and looks away from the babies. "It's only a legend, but it could change the fate of this war. The girl, Magda, is a powerful witch. A special kind, like her mother was."

"My god, she's just a child, Agatha."

"That's exactly why she needs to be protected." The witch retorts. " She' s fragile, like a crystal to be stolen. She must not be found, promise me you will protect her."

"I promise." She says nodding, but Agatha sighs, and her eyes turn purple, her grip increases.

"No matter what happens, Magda." She says. "You will protect them, do you understand?"

"Yes."

The memory shakes again, and this time, your father is in front of you, and you hold your breath, shocked to see him so close so suddenly.

“You’re a snake!” He accused angrly, but without any movement, his eyes were serious with his arms crossed.

You turn to realize he was talking to Agatha, in a room that had no windows.

“I was keeping them safe, Howard.” The woman said. “I don’t expect you to understand the feeling of desperation, because you have an armored mansion at your will.”

“You used Erik’s grief to manipulate him into believing in you!” He shouted. “I’m not asking you again, where are his children?”

Agatha laughs softly, looking at your father indignantly.

"Are you listening to yourself, Howey?" she teases. "Erik switched sides, accept that."

"Nat died on our side." He retorts. "She was my friend, my ally. And she trusted us to protect the twins, you had no right to hide them!"

"They are safe!" Agatha retorts, and looks at the man with a warning expression. "And I suggest you stop making such a scandal about it, Howard! You don't want Mephisto to find out about the girl's true nature. We're close enough to defeat already."

"This isn't about that stupid legend-"

"Isn't it?" Agatha interrupts with irony. "Then why only now? It's been weeks since I took them. I know exactly what you want with the twins, Howard. You want to see if it's true, if they really can change the war." She says approaching. "I will clear that up for you then, since you clearly have no knowledge at all on the subject. A scarlet witch is worthless until she reaches maturity. If you try to take the magic from the baby, you'll just get a victim. And I won't allow that to happen."

"I wasn't going to steal the child's magic, Agatha. Who do you think I am?"

"I don't give a damn who you say you are now, Stark." She retorts."Not to you, nor to Erik, who can't make up his mind whose side he's on."

Agatha moves to leave, clearly ending the conversation. But before she leaves, your father calls out to her.

"Why are you so committed to protecting them, Agatha?" He asks.

"Natalya was my family before she was an Auror, Howard."

As Agatha leaves, the memory fades, but you and Wanda are wide-eyed, confused by the latest revision.

And the ground is shaking at your feet, and you are being pulled back into consciousness.

//-/-//-//-//

You awaken last, stretching confusedly away from the tree you had leaned against as you sat on the ground to begin viewing the memories watched with the other women.

Wanda is already getting up, to find Agatha standing peacefully looking at the mountainous landscape ahead.

"So, what are you?" she asks the older witch.

Agatha sighs softly, without looking at Wanda.

"Natalya Maximoff was born in Romania, during the witch revolution in the country." She begins nostalgically, a short smile at the corner of her lips. "I found her shaking like a leaf, less than twelve weeks old inside a box of potatoes."

You are shocked, as is Wanda, but you just listen.

"I think her mother tried to hide her. But she got caught in the middle of it. Romania was in chaos at the time, it was a real bloodbath. "She says. "I was there to fight. The English ministry provided special witches to take on a wizard, known as Kang the Conqueror."

Agatha gives a humorless laugh, sounding upset.

"If you think Faustus is bad, it's because you've never met him." She counters. "He was a master nocramanter. He created an army of the living dead, the inferi. It was the worst fight I've ever been in. But we won, and he was killed. For real this time."

Agatha looked away from the landscape to look at Wanda.

"I bonded with the child, Miss Maximoff." She says. "I could have left her in that box, and gone on my way. But I took her in my arms, and only let her go when she was mature enough for that."

"And then?" Wanda asked with emotion in her voice, looking at Agatha with tears in her eyes.

"I found out that she was a scarlet sorceress, but unlike you, she never completed her forging." The witch says sadly. "She died at the age of 20, a year before she was going to do the spell."

Wanda looks down at her feet, crossing her arms as she absorbs the whole story. Agatha thinks this is a good opportunity to keep talking.

"The war was already over when I found Natalya." She says. "The village where I believe she was born had been destroyed in a shambles. And they put her in the box, while the British aurors were doing the stakeouts. I took her with me, I didn't tell anyone." She recounts. "When she turned eleven, I found out what she was. I taught her everything I could, but I didn't let her go to Hogwarts. I kept her at home, where she wouldn't put the students or herself in danger."

You bite the inside of your cheek, surprised that Agatha was able to hide a daughter. But honestly, it wasn't that shocking.

"When she turned 16, she started rebelling, you know how teenagers are." She says. "She left because she didn't agree with the way I saw the world. And I said I would be waiting for her to come back when she realized that only I could help her."

"But she didn't come back." Wanda completed and Agatha sighed, nodding.

"No, of course not," she says. "She moved to a muggle province, and built a house. And ran away from her fate until her power got too overwhelming."

"Did you look for her?" You ask, and Agatha nods in agreement, turning her gaze to the landscape.

"With the war, I wanted allies." She says. "And I really thought I could get to the house of the daughter I hadn't spoken to in years to ask her to fight for me."

"But she accepted, didn't she?" Wanda says and Agatha sighs.

"On her terms, yes." Answered the woman. "Your mother was a smart girl, Wanda. She made me swear under the best intentions."

And it takes a moment for Wanda to understand what was really being said.

"How?"

Agatha sighs, turning to you again. "I took a perpetual vow to do what was right. What would save lives, what she considered right." She explains. "But contract magic is so encompassing. Especially when you say ambiguous phrases like do the right thing, or stuff like that. That's why I was able to get around the spell so many times. That's why it shaped itself with her death."

"That's why you can't hurt Wanda." You conclude in a sigh.

Agatha nods. "The power of the Scarlet Sorceress has always been tempting. But I would never steal it from Natalya, she was my daughter." She says. "But you were just a student. And I wouldn't mind taking that responsibility out of your hands."

"Not even if I was her daughter?" Wanda asks in a mixture of disgust and indignation, but Agatha only gives a humorless laugh.

"Don't judge me so much." She retorts. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't even be alive. Least of all your girlfriend."

But Wanda steps away, putting herself in front of you.

"You didn't do this because you care." She accuses. "You did it because of the vow. Because you will die if you don't keep your words to her."

"Maybe." She says,shrugging. "But what matters is my actions, not motivations. Actions are all that matter in the end."

"I'm sick of this, Agatha." Wanda retorts indignantly. "You think you can say some philosophical shit and get rid of the things you've done? You manipulated my entire family, and you played with my destiny. I'd rather be alone than around you."

Wanda walks off at a brisk pace, and you follow her, not knowing exactly what to do.

Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to turn around and apologize.

Wanda begins to pack up very quickly, and you stare wide-eyed as she puts Godric's sword into her purse.

And soon you are outside.

"I told you I wouldn't forgive you if you crossed another line with me." She says. "But I realized that there's nothing more you can do besides all the bad things you've already done."

"If you expect me to apologize for keeping you alive so far, you are deluding yourself." Agatha retorts stubbornly, her arms crossed.

Wanda gives a humorless laugh, her hand interlacing hers. "I don't expect anything from you, Agatha. Even if you think it's the right thing to do, stay away from me. And especially from her."

"As you wish, Miss Maximoff."

You notice the tears in the older witch's eyes before she looks the other way. Wanda turns her face to you next.

“Think of a safe place.” She asks in a whisper, and you nod. It takes a second before everything spins around.

//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny–freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

[stupidcanofpeaches]

so remember this post about a s2 au where amnesiac vanya doesn’t immediately believe the obviously unwell thirteen-year-old ranting about the apocalypse and makes a rash decision to help him in a way that is not entirely expected. 

so yeah i did a thing

for the purpose of the story five is also hit with some real life consequences of wearing the same set of clothes for two weeks straight and ignoring a barely healed shrapnel wound

it’s pretty short but i wanted to share it! ahhh i should probably rewatch s2 cause i have a feeling i got a few details wrong

also quick disclaimer just in case: since it’s a s2 au and in-universe viktor still hasn’t transitioned, i refer to the character as vanya and mean no disrespect. 

Despite his siblings seemingly doing their best to be as difficult as possible because apparently dying in a nuclear blast was simply an opportunity they just couldn't pass up, Five didn't expect for Vanya, of all people, to turn out to be the most difficult out of everyone that regularly came between him and saving his family.

The worst thing is, she's successful.

///

The first thing she thinks is that the boy looks - young. Early-teens kind of young. 

The second thing is that he’s talking absolute nonsense. Superheroes? Time-travel? The end of the world?

And he wants her to follow him? No. No, Vanya will not. She has things to do - she has responsibilities. 

Even as she makes her way out of the field, he keeps up with her hurried pace. He also seems so indignant, so upset by her refusal, his voice jumps up and down as he talks. She tries not to listen lest she actually believes him. He’s her brother, he says, and if that other blond man is also her actual brother, then their family is an odd one for sure. They have super powers, he says. They need to save the world.

The only one that needs saving here that she can see is the boy himself.

Abruptly, she stops, and the boy circles her, stopping right in front of her. He's a little taller than she is, but she can’t help but come back to the thought of how young he is - his cheeks are round and his skin is soft and smooth, and he’s lanky in that a little awkward disproportionate way of someone who just hit a growth spurt. 

He’s probably not that much older than Harlan. 

And as much as Vanya doesn't want to listen to him, worry and plain self-preservation thumping in her chest, there's also something else that bothers her. It bothers her a lot.

That is a kid. A kid that's full-on rambling about the end of the world - about superheroes - and yeah, the thing that happened last night was wild but now, in the broad daylight, it seems unreal, imaginary - hard to admit that it actually happened - and he seems wired up in a really concerning way for someone his age. Something curls up in her chest as he stares at her with his jaw squared and fists clenched and she stares right back  - something like protectiveness. For all of his nervous energy and agitation, the boy seems... vulnerable. In an unstable, unwell kind of way.

And, well. He is a kid. She keeps repeating that word in her head but there’s nothing else that comes to mind. Maybe this is why he reminds her of Harlan - why she feels so worried all of a sudden. Vanya doesn't have it in her to just leave him.

So when he grabs her by the wrist, a grip that is firm - his hands are really cold, she notices, and there's a couple of thin weeping cuts from the tall corn stalks and leaves that he so carelessly tore through to get to her - she doesn't shake him off, though maybe she should. 

"You do understand that I can't just leave," she says, patient. "I have people to take care of."

"So do I!" he says, incredulous. "Why won't you - don't you get it? If you don't come with me, you - and they - everyone will be in danger. The whole world is! Vanya, just - we don't have much time, you have to -"

Now, he really does seem desperate to get her to follow him - but also unwilling to force her physically. Maybe he really does know her, from her past life that she cannot remember - why else would he be so - so nice, almost gentle, for all of his hand-wringing and demanding?

A thought comes to her.

She can use this.

"Alright," she says, reluctant, and he perks up. His tight grips loosens slightly. "But only if you come with me back to the house. I need to finish some things - I need to tell Sissy that I - that I have to go."

He gives another exasperated, wavering long sigh of open frustration. He lets go of her wrist. "That's the only way I'll go," she tells him firmly, but softens a bit when she notices him look around in this harried, frustrated way of his. His jaws are clenched achingly, and his eyes are too tired for someone his age, with an odd glint to them. 

“I can’t just leave without saying goodbye,” she adds, softer, and that phrase - that does something, because she can see him inhale sharply.

"Come on," she says, and now she's the one reaching out. She takes his hand in hers, and the boy startles at the contact, pulling back a little before seemingly forcing himself to relax - which is more than a little weird because he didn’t have a problem touching her hand just a moment ago. Is it because she’s the one who reached out this time? 

She looks into his face until his eyes meet hers. Bright, green eyes. Too bright. He really is unwell, she thinks with concern, and tightens her fingers around the bony hand, the way he did moments ago. Too skinny, too. 

He's dressed in a once-fancy looking school uniform - nothing she recognizes, no surprise there, but with an embroidered emblem on his chest and prim knee-socks and shorts - and it's all wrinkled, worn, with a dark stain on the collar and what looks like an unrepaired cut on one of the sleeves. She can smell a hint of sweat on his clothes up-close; looks like he's been wearing this uniform for a while, non-stop, without changing or washing, and his hair is ruffled, sticking up oddly in the back.

How long has he been out there, wandering in the fields or somewhere in the city, feverishly rambling something about the apocalypse, the end days, seemingly looking for his family, until he stumbled all the way out here? How many people have ignored him, when he was looking like this?

Vanya was not going to be one of them.

"Hey," she says, almost whispering, and the boy swallows. His throat jumps. "You look... really tired. How about you go with me? I'll could get you something to eat, and then I'll wrap up some things and... and we'll go and take care of the, uh. The apocalypse."

She holds the eye contact steadily when the boy narrows his eyes suspiciously. God, he really, really does look tired. She fights the urge to try and touch his forehead, to check for fever. He doesn't look feverish - but he's just this shy of being unhealthily pale, and seems shaky to her.

"A sandwich, maybe? I will make you some tea, or... or coffee."

She doesn't know what prompts her to say that, kids that age shouldn't have coffee, but bizarrely, it seems to work. The boy's shoulders droop.

"Alright," he finally says tersely, and then pulls his hand away from hers. She lets him. He clears his throat a little oddly. "Alright," he says again. "I could - I could use a cup of coffee. But we'll have to be quick, do you understand me, Vanya? We don't have any time to waste."

Sure we don't, Vanya thinks. Someone should've helped you days ago.

There's urgency in his voice, a manic sort of belief that she knows better than to argue against. "Of course," she lies instead, not particularly convincing but the boy doesn't seem to catch it.

"Lead the way," he jerks his head, sticks his hands in his pockets, looking sour and unhappy with himself.

So she does.

She can tell by the rustle that he is following her. "Sure hope your coffee is better than Klaus's," she can hear him grumble, and has no idea what to make of that. Who the hell is Klaus?

By the time she can see the house, there's an idea forming in her head.

The house is empty: Carl is at work - probably, unless he’s off getting sauced, and Sissy and Harlan - Vanya's not sure where they are. There's a good chance that Sissy went out looking for her, she thinks, and her heart squeezes with guilt and worry. She must have taken Harlan with her because it's simply not safe to leave the boy all alone in the house, and Vanya wasn't here to look after him. She doesn’t see any notes that would make it immediately obvious where Sissy went, either. 

She'll have to make up for it later - somehow - explain it all.

Well, if everything works out the way she plans it, she'll have even more things to explain. She's not looking forward to that, but she can't seem to think of another way to keep the boy safe and in the house. He's restless, edgy, eyes darting around the place as she leads him into the kitchen  - she knows he'll be crawling all over the walls in five minutes flat if they're not out of here by this time.

Thing is, Vanya's not planning on actually going anywhere with him. She has things to do - she has responsibilities. It just so happens that now this green-eyed, skinny boy is one of them.

"So, coffee?" she says, and the boy grunts in acknowledgement. When she gestures to the chair, he sits down quite heavily, the way an old man would sit down, and then puts one ankle up and over his knee, hunched over. There’s something about it - familiar? something that makes her stop and blink, and then the boy frowns at her and the moment is gone. 

She turns around, picking up the jar of that new freeze-dried instant coffee stuff that Carl brought home recently and the sugar, and sets the already full kettle on the stove.

"Milk?" she asks, and the boy shakes his head.

"No sugar, either," he says, and Vanya bites the inside of her cheek. That - that would make her plans a little more difficult.

"Just one spoon, maybe," she suggest carefully, "for the energy. You look like you could use it. When did you last sleep?"

"Vanya," he breathes out, and he sounds even more tired like this. "That's not really what's important here."

"One spoon," she says again.

He gives her a look, but doesn't protest - just raises his hand to rub his forehead. He keeps his palm over his eyes for a long, long moment, seemingly almost falling asleep sitting up - but so unmistakably tense he's clearly still awake - and that's exactly what Vanya needs to slip the dissolving pill right into the mug.

It's a good thing they keep them close by even now, though these days they barely even use them, not as much as Sissy had to before - a fact that Vanya was aware of because it was Sissy who told her that, with a soft wonder at just how good Vanya was with him, so good Harlan had less and less of those fits, as the doctors called them. 

Before, when they were frequent and exhausting, she could tell it was really, really bad by the look in Sissy's eyes, by the way her eyes hardened and glazed over like china glass - the doctors gave her a last-resort type of medicine - sedatives. Strong ones. They had the ampules for injections for when they couldn't get Harlan to calm down even a little bit, the ones where he wouldn't look at them or touch them, would barely react - the ones where he couldn't stop screaming or hitting himself whatever they did, and Sissy hated using those but they were quick - and they also had the ones that came in pills. Dissolvable pills. They must have tasted awful because Harlan hated them as well, but hopefully the coffee and sugar would mask some of that taste. Enough for the boy to drink at least a few gulps - she knew that even that much would be enough for it to take effect.

He is bigger than Harlan, though, so without giving herself the moment to hesitate any more, she slips in a second one, just in case.

She doesn’t feel good about this when she swirls the spoon in the coffee uneasily, and her stomach churns even worse when she turns around from the counter to face the boy and sets the mug on the table in front of him. When he looks up at her briefly, hand already coming up to wrap around the handle, it’s not with suspicion or tension that she expected to see, that neurotic urgency - no, it's affection, same one he greeted her with in the field. Small. Grateful. "Thank you, Vanya," he says, quietly, and brings the mug up to his lips.

Half of her hopes that the pills won't work.

She forces a smile back. This is for his own good, she tells herself, as the boy scrunches up his nose after the first swallow. It's necessary. 

"Almost worse than Klaus's," he says, seemingly to no one in particular, and looks down at the mug, deliberating for a moment. Vanya waits with baited breath. "Ah, well. Could be worse," he eventually mutters under his breath and brings it up again, swallowing the hot liquid almost too quickly. She lets out a soft exhale.

"It's the new type," Vanya informs him, feeling a little weak in the knees, and leans back against the counter for support. "The instant one."

"Ah," the boy acknowledges her, and takes another big swallow. He drinks coffee like his very life depends on it, with big long gulps; like he spent days and days in a dead dry desert without a single drop of water and this was his saving grace from an inevitable death of dehydration.

In just a few minutes, he manages to pour at least half of it down his throat, clearly itching to finish it and get out. 

Because she promised him they'd go once he gets some coffee.

He doesn't even get to the bottom when she notices his eyes start to droop, blinking heavily. He raises his hand again to rub at his eyes. The coffee mug is unsteady in his hand, and he shakily sets it down on the kitchen table. Vanya watches him, throat dry, his sharp figure in the warm sunlight - a brief moment of peace.

She should get ready to catch him in case he starts to fall on the floor.

These meds do work quick. She forgot just how quick they are.

"Are you okay?" she asks him anyway, knowing full well what's happening.

"Yeah," he says hoarsely. "Just - long week. I..."

He sits still for a moment, but then his whole body suddenly stiffens.

When he pulls the hand away from his eyes, he looks up at her, blinking rapidly, it's different - there's a horrified sort of muddled understanding that makes her face heat up. His eyes dart to the mug then back to her helplessly flushed face.

"You," he says, voice wobbling. "Vanya, did you - what did you -"

He shoots up so quickly yet unsteadily that his movement sends the chair rocking on its legs precariously until it stops safely again a step behind him. His hand remains on the table, the other hand up and out - balancing him. He takes a small wobbling blind step backwards, not taking his eyes off of her, and Vanya takes a step toward him. His fists clench, and for a moment she can see some sort of bright glow swell up around him - but it’s so quick, she blinks and it’s gone. 

His breathing is rapid, uneven. 

“No,” he manages. “No, what - what did you...”

When his free hand, the one he's not using for support, goes up, she half-expects for him to rub his eyes or try and grab something for support.

But instead, the boy brings it to his mouth - and clamps down his teeth into the meat of his thumb.

She realizes what he's trying to do all too quickly, and while he's clearly desperate, she can tell his muscle control is weakening by the second, he's wavering more and more - she crosses the room in a heartbeat, and when she tugs his hand out of his mouth in a quick, practiced motion, holding it up and away by his thin wrist, there's not much damage done just yet. All she can see is a red imprint of his teeth - not cuts. Might bruise, but won’t bleed. Good. He pulls back at it, and she doesn't let go.

Harlan does this, sometimes, when the sounds get too much or when he's trying to tell her something and she just can't understand so he gets frustrated and overwhelmed and hurts himself - to express whatever is it that he has bottled up that won't let him stay still. What this boy is doing is the same but also different - he probably wanted to use the pain to regain some control to do - something. She knows he wanted to do something. Vanya won't let it happen - he was always stubborn like that - or, well, right, he seems very stubborn, the type to fixate and not let go.

The boy stumbles back, almost collapsing back into the chair, and this time she lets him wrench himself away but hovers cautiously above him. 

He leans on the table heavily, fists clenching with an effort to keep himself standing upright - but then his legs buckle and he topples over backwards again, this time right back into the chair. His hand slams into the mug with the remainder of the coffee, sending it flying to the floor sideways. Vanya winces at the sounds of it breaking sharply. The boy's chest heaves up and down as he gasps, and he blindly palms the table, pushing at it, pushing at the chair - trying to claw himself out of it, out of the kitchen. Away from her. It's no use: his movements are underwater-slow, hazy, uncoordinated. Already, he's slowing down again from that brief burst of adrenaline - his palm hits the table top and then stops, fingers curling and uncurling weakly, and his elbow sort of pushes at the back of the chair he's now crumpling into, but all of his pushing and fighting only succeeds in flopping his body forward awkwardly, overbalancing, his own weight pulling him down on the floor - not up. He wouldn't be able to stand, anyway. His legs sluggishly kick at the floor, shoes scuffing at the floorboards.

Vanya rushes over to him before he manages to throw himself down on the floor with his squirming and crack his head open, and only flinches a little when he suddenly makes a sharp, angry, desperate whine at her touch.

"I want to help you," Vanya says into his ear, firm and calm, now holding him by the shoulders, keeping him safely in the kitchen chair. The boy shakes his head. His whole body is shaking with a frantic emotion, one that she cannot name.

"Vanya," he mumbles, slurring now. Like this, he sounds delirious. "Vanya. You're killing us. You're gonna - we'll die, Vanya, we - Vanya, we'll -"

His voice cracks. He sounds desperately convinced, and so - well - scared, she feels a little bad for doing this.

He's also barely making any sense now. Killing them? How? We?

No, as bad as she feels, she's definitely doing the right thing - he's not well, he's lost, he's scared, he needs help and Vanya's giving him exactly what he needs even if he doesn't understand it.

"Shh," she murmurs, the sound soft as it slips out from between her teeth, and the boy makes a protesting sound low in his throat. "Shh," she shushes him again, and then dares to lean him forward until his face is pressed into her shoulder.

The movement feels natural. Something compels her to do it - maybe it's because he looks so small like this, and so honest-to-god terrified in a sharp contrast from his previous pushy confidence. He pushes back at her, and she barely feels it. She can tell he’d be full on struggling to push her off if he could. 

She wants to help him. That's the entire reason she's doing this. Vanya will help him.

"It's okay," she tells him, honestly and warmly, and strokes his back over the jacket, making circles with her fingers. "It's okay, just go to sleep... we'll figure out what to do once you get some sleep, okay?"

The fight drains out of him. "Va," he forces out, words all jumbled and strained. his hands are still now, no longer pushing back at her - helplessly curled into her shirt, weakly pulling at it, hand shaking back and forth. "Va - V'nya. We... we h've to - h've t' go. P... pl'se."

She hates how despondent he sounds - the way he shakes even as her hands draw calming patterns into his skinny back. One of his hands loosens its grip on her shirt and slips off to lie on his lap.

And even like this, he's still trying to convince her.

Poor kid.

He really is sick.

"There we go," she says soothingly slowly as he leans into her heavier and heavier, "there we go. Just let go..."

She brings her hand up to his neck, stroking the short hairs there comfortingly. She can tell he's clinging to consciousness with the last of his strength. There’s some wetness she can feel soaking through her shirt right where his face is - just a little.

From her awkward position Vanya can see the broken coffee mug and a little puddle of coffee on the floor - not much of it left; he really drank pretty much all of it, and he did it quickly. The meds were designed to work almost instantly - no wonder his body was giving in so quickly and so readily.

The tremble in his body softens, and then he makes another one of those awful, stifled sounds - something like a pained whimper - and then he finally goes silent.

Vanya keeps stroking his back until she can hear his breaths even out. When she cautiously moves him to slump back in the chair, rearranging his position, and his head lolls to his chest - she sees that his eyes are finally closed, a wet trail on one of his cheeks from one of those no doubt angry, frustrated tears that she felt on her shirt, and his whole body is heavy-limp and unprotesting, and she breathes out a long sigh. His whole expression is slack - obviously out like a light.

She did it.

Vanya knows she did the right thing. Somehow, it still doesn't feel quite right - she doesn't even know who this boy is - his name is Five, she thinks he said? - and where his parents are, if somebody's looking for him - and yet, she practically drugged him, in the home of the people who so generously gave her food and shelter, with the medication of the boy she's actually looking after. 

This sure feels... illegal.

If she kept him here - to help him, of course, he's too young and too obviously unwell to take care of himself - would that be considered a kidnapping?

No, no. He said that she was his sister. An older sister, by the looks of it. If he was telling the truth, then she just took him into her custody for a bit. Because she was his older sister and had the right to do this. Right?

The worry brewed.

Still, she couldn't just leave him there, and she couldn't just up and follow him to do whatever it is that he wanted for her to do in the name of his delusional story about the end of the world.

"There we go," she whispers to the empty air. "Now, let's get you to bed."

The boy, of course, offers no answer.

///

a couple of notes: while instant coffee was already a thing back then, freeze-dried instant coffee was new. yes i specifically researched instant coffee. and also all kinds of sedatives boomed in the 1950s and dissolvable sedatives were very much thing in the 60s though they were less popular compared to the 50s when everyone and their grandma used them for everything.

and yes i keep piling up all kinds of wips on top of one another. may is gonna be pretty busy for me so honestly no guarantees on how and when this will get continued. i might add this as a one-shot to my series of short h/c snippets on ao3. thought y’all might enjoy this one either way!

also shoutout to @clementineofmine for telling me that corn leaves are actually kinda sharp so irl five would probably have a few cuts from pushing through the rows the way he did in the show!! 

[speechlessxx]

my house of stone, your ivy grows & now i’m covered in you.

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

with a side of Prince/King!Peter Parker x Reader

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

summary -> engaged to the Prince of Arachnia, the young maiden finds her heart calling out the name of another. 

warnings-> infidelity. age gap! (reader’s age isn’t explicitly said but she’s younger than Steve). poorly & awkwardly written SMUT.  (includes: unprotected sex, brief fingering, slight breeding kink). rambles. angst. fluff. lots of tension. bittersweet ending :)  

A/N -> for smut part, please scroll if you are not 18+. MINORS DNI

word count -> 12k+ !!! this one’s a lengthy one & i had no intentions of turning it into a series. it just got long. 

Buy Me A Kofi

At the ripe age of five-years-old, you were plucked from your childhood, abandoning all the childish whims and adventures to be groomed to be the perfect wife. No more rolling in the dirt with your older brothers or mucking about the stables with the horses or fencing with sticks that substituted the steel bladed swords.

It all quickly became sewing needles and recipes, cleaning and books balanced on your crown.

You were taught it all.

How to behave. How to stand or sit. How to greet and host. How to exist in silence because “a lady is to be seen and never heard,” as your teacher, Madam Morris, would say. The many lessons were engraved into your mind while the meaningless tasks and skills became muscle memory.

Be pious. Be kind. Smile. Be what your husband wants. Laugh. (no, not like that). Do as your husband says. Be interesting but not too much. Never overshadow your husband. Don’t disappoint or you will bring shame upon your family.

What a burden to place on the shoulders of a young teen though it was expected of you. Coming from an aristocratic family, it was all you ever knew: “get a husband and make us proud”.

As the years droned on and you approached adulthood, the pressure to marry became more and more prominent. And when you shed past your teen years as an unmarried young adult, the disappointment and shame began to show. Your family throwing distaste your way with snide remarks and mocking smirks.

The embarrassment felt as if it had been painted across your cheeks and you grew restless, convincing yourself to accept any opportunities of marriage just to be rid of their cruelty.

So, when the Prince of Arachnia arrived at your father’s estate and asked for permission to court you, you had no choice but to accept.

Prince Peter Benjamin Parker was nothing short of the perfect gentleman. As you walked, he’d ensure that you were safely tucked into his side opposite of the streets. He’d hold your hand steady as you exited carriages. He’d leave chaste kisses on your forehead or knuckles – almost always on your left ring finger – even though your chaperone would throw a disapproving glance his way.

You thought of him as charming with his tousled, dark brown curls with matching eyes that squinted as he smiled or laughed harder than he intended.

“He would make a great king someday,” your father would sing his praises. “And you, my dove, will be his fine queen.”

You were never fond of these comments, never finding any appreciation or gratitude when they were uttered to you. Though the thought of being queen would make any young girl giddy with excitement, you found an odd sensation of dread within you.

You weren’t sure where the feelings had originated from. Were you nervous about being a queen? About the responsibility of running not only an estate but an entire country as well? Or was it the fact you would forever be labeled as his queen rather than the queen? Did you detest the idea of belonging to another person for the rest of your life?

“Are you alright?” His voice brought you back into the present. You swallowed as you turned away from the window facing the garden of roses that your mother was so proud of to face the prince. You curtseyed although he’s told you many times it was unnecessary.

“I’m grand,” you lied with a weary smile though he bought it all the same.

Peter grinned a toothy smile as he took your hand in his. It was then you felt the weight of the engagement ring on your finger. The sapphire blue was an oval shape, large enough to cover the skin of your knuckle. The center jewel adorned a halo of smaller diamonds. All this sitting on the delicate white gold band that wrapped around your finger like a shackle.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the sapphire. “I shall be counting down the days,” he whispered in the quiet room. You forced another smile and nodded.

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

Arachnia wasn’t a large country nor was it tiny either. It had eight main roads that extended into the towns with the capital and its palace in the center. It had been said that the main roads were all equal in length so that everyone was at an equal distance from the palace though you weren’t so sure that there was truth to this. Your father’s estate sat near the south of Arachnia, in one of the nicer towns. The ride to Peter’s real home felt like an eternity.

It had been his idea, of course, that you be brought to the palace months ahead of the wedding. “Life in the castle is different to life in the towns,” he told you before, weeks into your courtship, “Everyone’s always watching.” He reasoned that the prying eyes needed to get used to the presence of his future queen, but you understood it all the same – that although it was crucial that you adjust to court, it was equally, if not more so, important that the court adjust to you.

“I will give you the grand tour,” he said as you put your head on his shoulder. The journey, although short, had picked at your energy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep, but his excited chatter kept pulling you back into consciousness. As much as you wanted to tell him to pipe down, you knew you couldn’t. Not only was he your husband to be, but he was also your soon to be king. “There’s fountains and gardens – I had them plant roses like the ones in your mother’s – “

The words became muddled nonsense as you slowly dozed off. The journey and your sleepless night, picking at the skin on your fingers, had finally caught up to you, making your eyelids heavy with sleep.

You jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump. You and Peter’s head slammed into each other, waking you both. You groaned, rubbing the spot as he mirrored you.

“You alright?” Peter asked you. You nodded, still rubbing the spot. Peter leaned over and kissed it and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been rather quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

You shook your head. “No, your highness,” you said. “I am just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Don’t be.” Peter chuckled. “The kingdom will fall in love with you just as I have.”

“And if they do not? Shall you find another bride?”

Peter’s smile faltered before shaking his head. “Those who do not immediately fall for my queen are mad and I shall find them the greatest court physician to treat their delusions.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You placed your head against his and took in a shaky breath.

There it was again. My queen. Another reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. That as soon as vows are exchanged and he places another band on top of the enormous ring you already wore, you were completely his to own.

And suddenly that sweet moment, wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, was cut short as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

After weeks following your arrival in the center of Arachnia, it still didn’t feel like your home, rather it was Peter’s. The maids didn’t follow your orders nor did the kitchen staff. Heavens knows that the knights and the other noblemen wouldn’t acknowledge you. It felt as if no one knew your name, save for Prince Peter and his aunt, Lady May Parker.

You were merely a stranger in their court, the soon to be king’s guest.

Although the preparations for Peter’s coronation should’ve been your duty, Lady Parker seized the job, citing that you weren’t the queen just yet. “Let me alleviate you of this, Lady (Y/N).” She told you with a smile. “After your marriage, I shall step aside and allow you all the duties as the lady of the castle.” And in many ways, you were grateful that this was not your responsibility for the coronation of Prince Peter Parker had been long awaited for.

After Peter’s uncle, King Benjamin, passed and with Peter’s father long gone before then, the young prince was suddenly eyed to be the king. However, the councilmen thought that the boy was too young – too green to be king. They waited years until Peter came of age and once he finally did, they refused a peaceful transition of power. Instead, there were harsh rumors that the kingdom would be handed to Brooklyn’s King.

This debacle led to rumors of unrest and threats of civil war. It felt as if the entire continent held its breath as it stared at Arachnia, waiting for the violence to begin.

If King Anthony of Starken and Lady Parker did not intervene, then there would’ve been lives lost and a country torn. An agreement was made between House Parker and their council: that before Peter may take the throne, he must either be married or engaged, so that the line of succession may be secured.

And with your presence and Peter’s sapphire ring, the crown became his in an instant.

Nearly three weeks before his coronation, lords and ladies along with royals from other countries flocked to Arachnia to celebrate its king.

Lady Parker and Prince Peter introduced you to so many people in the coming days that none of their names truly stuck. All except one.

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

The tall, broad man strode through the castle halls. His royal blue clothes made his eyes pop in the daylight. You thought he was beautiful. His presence demanded attention and he walked with a knowing smirk. Cocky. Arrogant. You profiled as he stood in front of Peter, towering over him.

Peter, still a prince, bowed to him as you did. “You’re younger than I expected.” The King’s voice was contradicting to his loud presence. His tone was even and steady like soft currents of a river or the expert strokes of a painter upon a canvas. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you until Peter called your name.

“King Steven, allow me to introduce my bride to be, Lady (Y/N).” Peter’s brow glistened with sweat though he stood tall. He was nervous. You could tell by the way his pitch was higher than it usually was. Under the king’s eye, he felt inferior. Insecure, even. Because although Peter was charming and slender, King Steven was intimidatingly handsome and built. Peter looked like a prince whereas Steven exuded the confidence of the king and looked like it, too.

You knew of the history between Brooklyn and Arachnia. There had been rumors that if Prince Peter could not get the crown, that the entire country would become part of Brooklyn’s, part of this other king’s domain.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” the king smiled at you and your eyes rounded as butterflies erupted from your stomach. He took your hand in his and you felt goosebumps rise all over your skin. A nervous, ragged breath escaped you as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles like Peter’s done a million times.

But your reaction was different. Your face went hot, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel it between your legs, a feeling you had never felt before. Pulsing. Throbbing.

King Steven’s hand lingered over yours for a few seconds more, thumb grazing your skin and over the sapphire. You suddenly felt embarrassed – as beautiful as the ring was, it was so large that it looked odd on your dainty hand.

“Beautiful ring,” he complimented with a nod to Peter. “Excellent taste.” It wasn’t clear if the king was complimenting the ring or the young woman who wore it and no one dared question such a distinguished man.

You pulled your hand away from his with a bow of your head. You couldn’t look him in the eye for a second more. “Thank you for joining us, your majesty.”

The king smiled at your fiancé before nodding. “I look forward to your coronation, Peter. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant event.”

You forced a smile as you and your fiancé greeted the next guest. The pleasantries and introductions fell upon deaf ears because as you looked up, searching through the crowd, your eyes immediately found his already staring back at you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

It felt as if there was a party every single day. A festival in the courtyard. A feast every night. You began to wonder where was all this money coming from – were the people being taxed heavily for the enjoyment of the upper class? Lady Parker assured you that Arachnia was well funded and that where the expenses exceeded their budget, they were handled by King Anthony, who considered it an early marriage present.

You sat like a decorated ornament next to Peter, surrounded by the other royals at a round table. You felt out of place in a gown made from your town’s finest tailor whereas the queens and princesses around you wore one-of-a-kind pieces. You were reminded, again, that you were just an aristocrat’s daughter, the fiancé of a king sitting among the men and women that bards wrote songs about.

You felt as if you were set to be the butt of the joke in another round of ridicule as King Anthony drew his attention from teasing Peter to you.

“You,” he began, words a bit slurred due to the ale in his overflowing cup, “are very gorgeous. My love,” he directed to his wife, Queen Virginia, “don’t you agree?”

“Yes, you are a delight, Lady (Y/N).” The strawberry blonde smiled at you. You returned the smile, timidly.

“Likewise, your majesty,” you returned before nodding your head to the rest of the table. “All of you are wonderful.” Truthfully, many of their names went over your head and to save yourself the embarrassment, you refrained from calling any of them by name, only saying simple titles like your majesty and my lord or lady.

“Lady (Y/N),” the princess from the foreign land, Sokovia you think, called your attention. You believe her name was Wanda, or at least that was what the King of Hawksview called her. “Are you excited for whatever adventures marriage will bring you?” Her tone was drunk and teasing. It was clear what she was alluding to though you weren’t quite sure if you caught on.

“Oh, dear,” Peter chuckled, awkwardly, obviously understanding. His face a beet red as he patted your hand that sat on your lap. “Dove, you do not need to answer.”

“Dove?” King Steven, the one man you knew by name, questioned from across the round table. He sat directly in front of you and you swore he sat there deliberately.

“It’s what my father calls me,” you explained though your voice was a bit scratchy, your throat dry. You coughed before taking a sip from your barely touched ale, finding the taste quite revolting. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat as you felt the prying eyes of the Brooklyn King stare through you as if you were glass.

“Dove.” He repeated, trying the petname out. “Sweet. Innocent.”

“Oh, you stop teasing, Steve,” the woman with dark red hair rolled her eyes. You remembered her being called Nat though you did remember her from your history lessons. Queen Natalia Romanova of Widow’s Peak, the queen who paved the way for women on the battlefield. She was revered and you were in awe when you met her.

“If we’re teasing, shall we jest about how Steven has yet to marry?” The prince from Asgard laughed. He pushed his long black hair over his shoulder as his older brother, the blonde – the King – swatted at his forearm with the back of his hand as if to say be quiet.

Steven smirked, eyes shifting to his lap, before chuckling. “Laugh and tease all you want,” he said, grabbing his cup and bringing it to his lips.

“Why is it you haven’t married?” Queen Natasha’s husband, Bruce – you think – asked.

Attention shifted back to Brooklyn’s king as he shrugged, taking another swig from his cup. His eyes darted around the table as if gaging – studying – the group.

You found it odd. Many of the royals around you considered the others their closest friends, yet here he was, a mystery to them still. It was as if he was content with going unseen and unheard. You could understand.

“C’mon, Stevie,” King Anthony taunted with a pet name. The blonde’s jaw tensed for a moment but quickly released. You frowned at that – was there tension between the two kings? “Handsome, wealthy king with vast holdings and a powerful kingdom, yet no marriage? It’s like you’re not trying, Steven.”

The Brooklyn king chuckled again, brows lifting with an amused look. His eyes met yours and you felt your face go hot again. Your gown shifted underneath the table as your knee bumped Peter’s when you crossed your legs. He looked away.

“I would not get married simply because I need a crown,” his eyes shifted to Peter before shifting back to his cup, “or I need an alliance, or my country requires finances or resources. Brooklyn’s striving under my rule.” He said it so calmly and smugly as if he weren’t throwing condescending comments about his friends’ marriages right in front of them.

“If I were to get married,” Steven’s ocean eyes met yours again like the waves crashing into a shore, “it would be because I’m in love.”

You shifted in your seat, that pulsing, throbbing ache returning as you held his stare. You bit your lip before nervously breaking the eye contact to pick at the bread roll on your plate.

You suddenly jumped when Peter draped his arm around your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to do so, too preoccupied to appear occupied. He shot you a worried glance, but you gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“Well, I, for one,” he smiled, “am marrying for love.” Peter pressed a kiss to your temple, and you felt your smile drop for a second. Just a mere second – maybe even less.

No one noticed, you assured yourself with a relieved exhale. You scanned the round table to find that everyone smiled at you and your fiancé with dopey grins, staring at the two children in love. However, Steven’s was different.

No… The king had a knowing smirk on his face as if to say, I saw.

»————-　⚜　————-«

With the coronation in a fortnight, you and Peter found yourselves on edge. Your shoulders always felt tense which left an ache in your neck, leaving you to rub out the knots but to no avail.

Peter’s nerves made him jittery. During meals, his leg bounced up and down with nerves. The sudden movement often shaking the table, leaving you in an annoyed silence. To cope with his pending coronation nerves, the young prince whisked himself into meaningless tasks and hobbies in hopes to distract himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that he often left you to yourself, leaving you to dwell in your unease on your own.

You confided in Lady Parker about your nerves though she returned your concern with a small frown. “You aren’t getting coronated, why are you nervous?” She chuckled dismissively. You nearly snapped then but was able to stop yourself before saying anything offensive to Lady Parker.

Deciding that your thoughts were better left unsaid, you isolated yourself in the stairwell on the south wing of the castle. In your time here at Arachnia, this quickly became your favorite spot. The south wing was nowhere near the bustling crowds of guests and their parties, making it the quietest place in the castle at times. There was a wide window that stood above the stairs; it brought in gorgeous sunlight and you often found yourself basking in its warmth.

However, with your troubled thoughts, the south wing stairwell’s window brought you no comfort at all as you gnawed on the bump on the inside of your cheek. It was a habit you picked up when you were being taught to be a lady – a lady is to be seen and never heard – so you opted to biting back your opinions and retorts, whether it be physical or metaphorical.

Though Lady Parker was right, the coronation was Peter’s worry alone, it would not only be Peter that would be judged and watched by the entire continent the moment that crown is on his head. Even now as a mere lady, the fiancé of their soon to be king, you were burdened with such scrutiny and you were sure that this would only increase three-fold once Peter was crowned king.

The pressures would only worsen once you were dubbed Peter’s queen.

So, you sat pensively in your thoughts near the top of the stairs as you enjoyed the last few months of peace you had left.

“For an engaged woman, I do find you alone too many times,” a voice took you from your thoughts as it carried through the empty stairwell. You looked up and met the amused smirk of King Steven Rogers.

You stood up from your spot and found your footing at the top of the staircase before you curtseyed. “Your majesty,” you greeted.

“Most brides tend to cling to their fiancé, fighting to be by their side every waking moment,” the king mused, quirking an eyebrow up, “but not you.”

“I suppose.”

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to you. You bit your lip before nodding, sitting down again, but this time with the king’s warmth next to you. “Is something on your mind, Lady (Y/N)?”

“No, your majesty,” you said a bit too quickly and he saw through you.

He tutted, knowingly. “I know a troubled lady when I see one,” he pressed. “Please, my lady, speak freely as if I am just a friend.”

“I hadn’t realized I was friends with a king,” you muttered. You felt his eyes on you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stared at your lap.

The conversation stilled as the silence built, but you found comfort in the king’s presence. Although his eyes made you uneasy and nervous, he brought you a strange sense of peace.

His soft chuckle pulled you from your thoughts again. “Lady (Y/N).” He said your name and you glanced over at him with a brow cocked up. “I noticed that you don’t speak, not often, at least.”

“I was taught to never speak unless spoken to.”

He scoffed. “That’s a habit that you’ll grow out of.” He saw confusion flash through your expression and smiled, gently. “A strong, respected queen demands attention as she enters a room. Every step she takes must be a stride of confidence so that no one ever questions her status.”

“A status that my husband, the king, gives me. I cannot over-step. I would undermine him.”

“Peter’s a king,” Steven corrected. “I never said you would over-step, but a true king would ensure that he and his queen are in equal footing.” He cocked his head to the side as he noticed your grimace. “You don’t like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known… but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.  

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter’s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

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