#my response to your first letter will be posted swiftly

[cosmicstarlatte]

Beel A-Z Smut HCs (Obey Me!)

⬅Back to Smut HC A-Z Masterlist ◇

18+ only, minors do not interact.

My personal headcanons using this [prompt list]

The goal is to finish the whole list; you are welcome to request a letter so I get to it faster. I will work on it as quick as I can but keep in mind I do have a life & responsibilities lol. ^^

Last Updated: Oct.1.2023 (6 out of 26)

⚠️Notes: I'll tag any sections if needed. If you think a section needs a tag, kindly let me know.

A: Affair (Describe an extra-marital affair)

B: Birthday (Describe birthday sex)

C: Compliments (Mid- and post-sex compliments)

D: Dry Humping (Describe a dry-humping scene)

You only went into the kitchen for a snack & you somehow ended up pushed against the counter with Beel dry humping your ass. Still, the gentle(?) giant wouldn't let go of the devil croissant in his mouth & managed to swallow it with another bite. "Mmph. Sorry. C-couldn't resist." You moaned as you felt his cock twitch against you, desperately wanting more. His arms were wrapped easily around your waist. "C-can I?" He asks as he continues grinding & a hand slipped to reach for your waistband. "Beel what if someone walks in!" You whined yet still pushing up against him. He swiftly pulled your bottoms down, "...it'll be really quick."

E: Experimenting (Trying something new)

F: Firsts (First time having sex together)

G: Gentle (Describe gentle/loving mid-sex gestures)

H: Handsy (When they can’t keep their hands to themselves)

I: Initiator (Who initiates most of the time? How?)

J: Jealous (“Claiming” a partner)

K: Kitchen (Describe a sex scene in the kitchen)

L: Likes (What they like in the bedroom)

M: Morning (Describe morning sex)

N: Never (Things they would never try)

O: Orgasm (Describe coming--who comes first? What do they say? How does the other person know it’s approaching?)

You're always going to cum first about 90% of the time. The only exception really being if you decide to just give him a blowjob. Anyway Beel's a giver, he loves to eat, we know this already! He could stay eating you out for hoursss. He's the type to say thank you & ask for more when you cum on his tongue. He tells you how delicious you taste.❤️ Now if he's cumming, you know by the sudden gasp and low groan he always does, always pushing himself as deep as he can go & you always eagerly await the big load this giant gives you. :3

P: Playlist (A playlist for getting down and dirty; will probably include a lap dance song, a song for making love, and a song that represents their sex life)

Q: Quiet (Reaction to a quiet partner)

He doesn't really feel one way or another about it, he's just a big teddy bear that loves to make love with you.🙂 Of course the few sounds you do make when he stuffs his massive cock in you does turn him on, he prefers to see the pretty sexy faces you make as he fucks you senseless. ^^

R: Ruttish (Signs that they’re horny)

Beel has his moments & he can be blunt. If you're dating, he'll tell you & ask, respectfully, if you want to fuck lol. If you're not together quite yet... well, he's going to be a little clingy & you'll notice him smelling you a lot more often like some tasty snack he can't wait to have. He'll have a flushed face & somehow eat more than he already does until something is finally done about it.

S: Safe Word (How often is the safe word used? Why?)

T: Teasing (Who’s the tease in the relationship? What do they do? How often?)

U: Undressing (Strip teasing a partner)

V: Videos (Sending NSFW videos to each other)

W: Wedding Night (Consummating the marriage)

X: XXX (What kind of porn does the person watch? How often?)

He's not too picky & usually finds whatever is on the first page or two of a porn site. Sometimes he will look at food porn but tbh it's a lot more distracting & he always ends up feeling hungry after it. He doesn't really watch it that often & prefers to imagine his own little scenarios in his head.

Y: Yawn (How they sleep post-sex)

Z: Zoo (Their animalistic qualities in the bedroom)

tags: biting, breeding He's a biter, he loves to mark you in so many ways. Some are soft bites & others are harder love bites. He loves to leave his scent on you!!! Also sorry if he does get just a little rough, he can't help it when you look so small, all he wants to do is breed you. He loves doggy & the mating press, please let him go wild with you ♡

[daryascurse]

Chainsmoking His Love 12: The Twelfth Letter

Zeke Jaeger x Reader // follow #CHLZeke for updates // n.s.fw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: dirty talk, implied: masturbatιon, bondage, fingerιng, finger sucking, teasing, oraI Chapter length: 1.4k

I suppose you might see it unfair that I did not tell you of the departure orders at all. But I thought we’d always had the unspoken understanding that some things, official things, are beyond the bedroom. Something like deployment is not my secret to share. War is serious, but am I not the best Warrior we have? To those not as intimately familiar with military statistics, I can understand it may have brought you unease, displeasure, or doubt; and for that, I am sorry for any pain it caused you. I hope this letter is some alleviation. For I do not want to cause you pain, unless you desire to feel it. Because you and I - well, are we not most intimately familiar?

I’ve missed you these nights when there are moments we can afford a leisurely thought. I miss you now.

♡ read more after the jump or on ao3 ♡ // ♡ spotify playlist♡

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Pieck was right. They’d left the next day before you’d awoken. All of the Warriors on an early train with smoke long disappeared into the bleak sky, without a trace, without pomp or announcement or even much change to the daily tasks to be done; just a handful fewer linens passing through the laundry. You’d sat on the side of your bed that night, trying to piece it all out past a still-lingering hangover. Zeke hadn’t even left a note. Hadn’t knocked on the door, hadn’t whispered a kiss of apology or farewell on your forehead. He may have gone swiftly off to his death and he hadn’t cared to even tell you it was happening.

Maybe it was your fault for snapping; for the way you did dream of Porco, and the little white lies. Maybe it was his for pushing things too far and putting you in that position. Maybe it was alcohol, maybe it was pride. Maybe the responsibility lay on you both at this point.

You don’t know how many nights you’d cried until one morning at last you woke up with a dry pillow. And still the emotions – the guilt, the defiance, the fear – continued to sicken you in unexpected waves. He had unmoored you, left you adrift at sea, and the tempest had closed in.

But then the envelope came this morning. It was addressed to you in familiar black script, the paper thick and pulpy between your fingers. Even without everything that happened before he departed, even without your broken heart, you wouldn’t have imagined it was even possible to send uncensored letters from the front lines of the Marley Mid-East War. Yet it had arrived nonetheless, slipped under your door amidst regular correspondence and papers and immediate notes to start the tasks for the day. You had tucked it into a pocket and gone about the hours in a daze. A letter, a letter from Zeke. The only thing on your mind.

And tonight, curled under the covers by the light of the moon, you rip it open with trembling fingers to devour his words, mouth half-open in eager breath.

If this letter reaches you, which I have full confidence it will, then you will read my raw thoughts and know that I mean them with sincerity. As you can’t be by my side here across the continent, this method will have to do. You may call me a coward for refusing to say these words to your face. When I close my eyes, I can see your pretty little face, eyes bright now with anxiety and later some delight, as you read further on (don’t skip ahead, I have the formalities to get through first). But you can rest assured in my full confidence that this will be delivered just as I pen it now. You’d be truly surprised at how skilled I am at ensuring messages result only in the hands of the intended recipient. The only risk of interception now is at your end, so I advise you dispose of this after reading.

And I will tell you, though you should hear soon – if the news hasn’t already broken by the time this reaches you – that we have been victorious at Fort Slava. This war may be over yet; a war that I’m sure is nothing compared to those inevitably still to come in our lifetime. But I don’t wish to dwell on those somber realities. You are my escape. You have always been.

I ought to apologize. I ought to truly start with that, a recognition and atonement for the way I behaved. I will say that I did not see the need to waste morning hours on a verbal apology before leaving. I knew I would see you again. My track record for returning to Liberio after bringing a final blow of victory rather speaks for itself. I suppose you might see it unfair that I did not tell you of the departure orders at all. But I thought we’d always had the unspoken understanding that some things, official things, are beyond the bedroom. Something like deployment is not my secret to share. War is serious, but am I not the best Warrior we have? To those not as intimately familiar with military statistics, I can understand it may have brought you unease, displeasure, or doubt; and for that, I am sorry for any pain it caused you. I hope this letter is some alleviation. 

For I do not want to cause you pain, unless you desire to feel it. Because you and I - well, are we not most intimately familiar?

I’ve missed you these nights when there are moments we can afford a leisurely thought. I miss you now. I’m sure your cheeks are starting to burn in the way you can’t hide as much as you try, but I’ll be frank and you can grin as silly as you like for the moon and the stars to see. Yes, I miss you. Your footsteps are familiar, the rhythm of your knocks recognizable on any door. You leave my sheets smelling as sweet as your taste. And I crave your taste. 

When I see you, I will take you. Not in the gasping blushing sense of some matron’s pulp novel, not merely fucking your pussy until you moan my name. I remember your bitter parting words; with some irony, I find sweetness that last time of ours, in what you said – that dirty talk is something acceptable to you. Right? Then let me make some dirty promises. I will possess you and have you completely. I will tease you, tie you up to be in complete control of your body. A little toy. I will work you over until you break. And then just as before, and as I will again, I will take you wet and sweet, fucking you with your own cum again and again. I will drink your little whines and squeals of pleasure. Even when you gasp with pain and cry that your body is too sore, I don’t care. I won’t stop until I am satisfied. 

Are you reading this curled at your pillow with thighs pressed together? Have you been lonely without me? Have my words left your flesh hot and tender? Then crumple this page flat and free a hand to touch yourself now. 

I know how to touch you, how to deny you my touch. Maybe I will keep you tied, and spread your legs to look at you. And I know I’ll find you wet, as wet as you are now, I’m sure. And when I touch you, if I touch you, I’ll just run my finger down your cunt and let myself dip into you. Or maybe I’ll leave your whole body twitching and waiting with anxious breath as it begins to drip from your creamy pussy, waiting to be licked. 

I’ll touch the side of your face, put my thumb to your lips and have you suck. And then I’ll grab your leg, watch my fingers press into your thigh and force you open, wider. You’ll start to whine. You’re impatient. I’ll rub my cock on you, just right in your pussy. I’ll stay pushed against your cunt and touch myself instead, jerking off as you reach for me and cry for me to fuck you. Maybe I’ll toy with your nipples. Maybe I’ll play with you a little longer, because you’re all mine to play with. I’ll tease you, barely touch you, and you’ll hump at the air and cry out. But when you’re almost at the edge at making yourself come at the agony, that’s when I’ll fuck you at last. You’ll come on my cock and I’ll pull out, I’ll stick it down your throat and make you taste yourself, then clean your mouth with my tongue to share your flavor. 

Have I worked my way thoroughly back into your good graces? Have I stopped your silly grin and turned your lips to a shocked slack-jawed circle? Keep practicing that shape for me. For now, I shall seal this letter, next to be seen by those bright eyes of yours. And to ensure that it remains seen only by your eyes, I will remind you to dispose of this with thorough care.

I just had the thought – maybe you should tie this with ribbon to your inner thigh, and push your fingers into your pussy all night. Let your dripping cum erase the ink. It may take some time to get it all.

That’s your responsibility now. 

Yours,

~ Z. Jaeger

chapter 13

[roseianxiety]

oh bittersweet betrayal

× Pairing: Roceit

× Royalty/Historical AU, Assassins

× Tags: Angst and tragedy, Tragic romance, Slight fluff, Implied/referenced character death, Sad ending, also Open/ambiguous ending, Prince Roman, Assassin Janus, Not Beta Read

× Word Count: 4k+ words

× Notes: This was heavily inspired by Masquerade from the podcast Dangerously Yours. Posted on AO3. Forgot to post this here lol.

× AO3 link

× Summary:

"If I betray you, I betray myself. But I cannot risk betraying them, my organization is very dear to me."

"Dearer than I?..." Roman murmured his grip on Janus' hand loosening gradually. He let go, stepping back. A pained expression covered his face as he lowered his gaze.

Janus looked away, "Yes, dearer than you.". It was a lie. But he cannot bare to say the truth to Roman, he can't. So Janus lied like he always does.

A young man sat by his desk, his medium-length blond hair left untied as it flowed elegantly down his back, his eyes scanning the parchment paper in his hands with utmost focus. It was a letter from his higher-up. About a special mission tasked for him only. The man's amber eyes drifted on each word written with ink on the parchment, his expression remained stoic and focused.

« Dear Mister Janus Silverthorne,

It has come to our attention that you have displayed your outstanding skills within the field. So we have sent you a letter, regarding an important assignment to be done. This assignment is of vital importance to our organization. This mission is entrusted solely to you and you only, so we hope you understand your responsibilities and will not take this assignment lightly. Please follow every detail carefully.

You are tasked to execute the crown prince of Ruisite, Prince Roman Estrelle. As the heir to the throne, Prince Roman poses a significant threat to our interests. It is imperative that he is to be eliminated discreetly and swiftly. Along with this letter, we have sent an enclosed dossier which contains all the necessary information about the prince's whereabouts, routines, and potential vulnerabilities. It also includes further instructions and information that you will need. Study it carefully and devise a well-thought-out plan.

If you succeed in carrying out this mission, you will be rewarded with your own land, an astronomical sum of money, and be promoted to a higher position. But if you do fail, you will face grave repercussions and lose everything you possess. Do remember that our organization does not tolerate failures. And there's no turning back once we make a decision. Your job will depend on your discretion and ability to carry it out without being detected. We expect you to succeed in this mission and bring glory to yourself, and bring honor to our organization. Best of luck, Janus.

Sincerely,

The New Order »

Janus set the parchment paper aside before grabbing the dossier that was also sent to him with the letter. He untied the string that bound the file together and opened it. His fingers skimmed over the information as he read through it carefully, skimming through the details about the prince that were given to him. He glances at the small photograph that was clipped to it and took a closer look. The crown prince had tanned skin, hazel eyes, a chiseled jaw, and reddish-brown hair. He looked like what you would expect a royal would be. Janus admits the prince was a handsome man. Pity he would not live soon. He then looks at the prince's possible schedule, already planning his first move.

---

"Good Afternoon, Sir. Welcome to The Nightingale Inn, are you perhaps Mister Janus Cassidy?" The young bellboy greeted with a friendly tone as he bowed slightly at Janus. Janus hums, flicking his hair. He was disguising himself as an only son of a baron from a neighboring kingdom, who is taking a supposed "vacation" in Ruisite.

Janus nodded with a courteous smile, playing the part of the baron's son effortlessly. "Indeed, I am Janus Cassidy," he replied, adopting the alias he had carefully crafted for this mission. The bellboy extended a hand to take Janus's bag. "Allow me to assist you with your belongings, sir. The finest suite in the inn has been prepared for your stay. If there is anything you require during your time here, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," Janus said, handing over his bag. "I appreciate your attentiveness. I expect my stay to be pleasant and peaceful.". The bellboy led Janus to his room, a lavishly decorated suite befitting someone of noble status. Janus made sure to maintain his act as he chatted casually with the bell boy, asking about the inn and the local attractions to blend in seamlessly.

Once inside his room, Janus closed the door behind him, his expression turning serious. He took a moment to assess the suite for any hidden threats or surveillance devices. Satisfied that he was alone, he retrieved the dossier and laid it on the desk. Studying the information meticulously, he began formulating his plan to get close to Prince Roman. The dossier revealed that the prince would be visiting the tavern connected to this inn he was staying in, said tavern only allows guests of nobility. But accessing it wouldn't be a problem for him.

Janus' eyes wandered around the lavishly designed tavern, looking for a particular person. He had just arrived at the tavern and he was trying to find where the crown prince was among the crowds of high-ranked individuals, waiting for the right time to initiate his plan.

Janus began to walk around the tavern, examining everyone in there with a watchful eye while he tried not to mingle with any one of them, keeping a low profile. He took a sip from his wine, his eyes landing on a man sitting on the table across from him. His features were sharp and beautiful, his reddish-brown hair curled softly and falling gently around his face. It was no one other than his target, Prince Roman. The heir to the throne was sitting next to another gentleman, both seemingly engrossed in a conversation. Janus smirked at himself as he places his wine glass down on a nearby table, looks like his plan is about to start.

"While I was headed back here from my trip, I found this fascinating creature. Its beauty was no other, it looked exceptional! A rare sight, indeed" Roman exclaimed happily at his friend, who was seated opposite him. The gentleman looked up at the crown prince with mild interest, nodding slowly, his blue eyes watching intently. "Do you perhaps know what kind of creature it was? It should be studied.".

Roman sighs as he leaned back on his seat, clasping his hands behind his head. "Like what I have told you, I do not know! What I do know is it looked like it was straight out of a fairytale, I tell ya! It—". Before he could even finish his sentence, they heard loud and aggressive footsteps heading toward the two of them, causing the prince and his friend to look up.

"You are a liar, Ferdinand! How dare you betray like that. Here, you can take these useless jewels and leave me alone!" A blond exclaimed angrily as he slammed pieces of jewelry on Roman's table, glaring at the prince for a slight moment, and immediately stormed off before Roman could even say anything. The commotion that the blond man caused had caught the attention of a few people near the crown prince's table.

Roman looked dumbfounded like someone had given him a difficult equation to solve. He turned to look at his friend, who also had confusion etched on his face. "Do you know that gentleman?" asked Roman. His friend shooked his head, perplexed. "I have no idea. I thought you knew him.". Roman frowned deeply, thinking deeply. "No. He must have mistaken me for someone else.". A servant then arrived with their orders, Roman decided to question him about that peculiar man.

"Who was that man?"

The servant looked at him, surprised, but answered nonetheless. "He is Mister Janus Cassidy, a son of a baron from a neighboring kingdom," he says simply. Roman furrowed his eyebrows slightly, thinking about the name 'Janus.' It sounded familiar. He smiles politely at the servant before dismissing him. Now, he has to find out who this Janus fellow is.

---

A knock came on Janus' door just as he had expected. "Just a moment!" He smiles and fixes his hair slightly, wanting to look good, before heading to the door to open it. Standing on the other side was no other than Prince Roman himself, he was clutching the jewelry that Janus had left on his table. It seems that his plan is going well.

"Hello, Sir. But you got the wrong man. My name is not Ferdinand and I certainly have not seen you before." Roman stated with a small frown, crossing his arms. Roman is taller than Janus by a few inches; however, the height doesn't intimidate him in any way. Janus merely smiled as he stood his ground, raising an eyebrow challengingly. "I know.".

"Wouldn't you like to come in, Prince Roman?" Janus smiles up at him sweetly, acting with faux innocence before opening the door wider. Roman's eyes widened at his words, face etched with confusion and shock. "W-wait, you know who I am?" he queries, bewildered. Janus chuckles in amusement.

"Why of course! Only a fool would not recognize a handsome and dashing prince such as you, Prince Roman. And I thought I was feeling rather bold and wanted to make the acquaintance of the distinguished Prince Roman Estrelle." Janus replies, tilting his head slightly. His eyes scanned Roman's form again, noticing the way pink had dusted the prince's cheeks. Oh, he was flustered. How adorable. "Well, how could you be so sure that I'm the right prince and not a con man? I could have run off with your jewels." The heir questioned.

“I took the risk. And besides, those jewels are insured.” Janus chuckles softly, his amber eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, and I had a hunch that you are not just any ordinary con man. Besides, I believe it’s rare for a con man to look as captivating as you, Prince Roman.” He flashed a playful smile, adding a touch of charm to his words.

Roman raised an eyebrow followed by an amused smile, intrigued by Janus’s boldness and charm. “You have quite the audacity to approach a prince so casually. Not many would dare to do so,” he remarked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Janus leaned in slightly, his amber eyes locking with Roman’s hazel ones. “Oh, I have a penchant for taking risks. Life would be quite dull without it, don’t you agree Prince Roman?”. “And I wanted to meet you, and perhaps spend some time together. You see, I have a weakness for charming and intriguing individuals like yourself.”. The prince’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, feeling rather overwhelmed by all of Janus' sweet words.

“Are you angry at me, your highness?” Janus queries, batting his eyelashes at Roman.

The crown prince immediately shook his head in disagreement, before responding with a soft chuckle. “Oh no no, I’m not angry. Just, flattered by all your compliments. You are quite the charmer, Lord Janus.”. Janus merely smiles at him.

“If fate itself brought me this stunning man before me, then I suppose I cannot decline such an opportunity to dine with him. Would you do the honor to join me for dinner this evening, my lord?" Roman says smoothly, reaching for Janus' hand before pressing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Janus accepts the offer, a smirk gracing his lips. "That would be an honor, your highness.".

"Roman. No need for formalities."

"Well Roman, I am expecting that I shall enjoy my time with you this evening."

"So do I, Janus."

---

"Apologies if I am late, I was busy mingling with the guests and I had a difficult time finding my way out,"

Janus immediately turned his head as soon as he heard that familiar voice. Roman stood there at the opening of the balcony with a lopsided and sheepish smile, slowly approaching. Janus gives him a small smile before turning back to look at the vast, ebony skies with stars that twinkled like no other as the cold breeze hit his face.

"No need to apologize, you are a busy man after all." He hums softly, taking a sip from his wine glass. Roman stares at him, lovingly, before moving to stand beside him. His stare did not falter for a few minutes, the crown prince's eyes fixated upon the beautiful man next to him. A smile forms on his lips once more, now turning his gaze away from Janus towards the night sky.

"They are like diamonds, no? They adorn the night sky so perfectly. It's utterly breathtaking and beautiful..." Roman whispered in awe, then glancing at Janus once more. Janus' face was completely void of emotion, his eyes focused on the stars above, a light pink dusting the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. His long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he stared into the night sky solemnly.

Roman chuckles softly which snaps Janus from the trance-like state he was momentarily stuck on. Janus turns to him with a raised brow, looking at him with skepticism. "What are you chuckling on about, Roman?" he queries. The prince waves his question off and faces forward, a smile still gracing his lips. "Nothing at all.". Janus scoffs and rolls his eyes but there is no malice in them. They both stood in silence side by side as they watched the sky, their hands brushing every so often.

Suddenly, a shooting star appeared in the sky, quickly passing over their heads. Roman gasps loudly, pointing at it as it disappeared into the dark clouds. "Look a shooting star! Did you make a wish?" he turns to look at Janus with bright eyes. The other shook his head softly, "I didn't have time.". Roman frowns slightly, saddened by Janus' answer before turning back to the night sky.

"Do you have something to wish for, Janus?"

"Yes..."

Roman questions softly, "What is it that you wanted to wish?". Janus looks at him and smiles, it was not one of his mischievous and teasing smiles, it was something sincere and serene. "It's secret.".

Roman chuckled lightly, "Secrets always intrigue me.". "Well then, my prince, may I ask you a favor?" Janus asks, looking intently into Roman's eyes. "Of course. Ask away, dearest," Roman responds, looking down at him, his curiosity piqued. Janus reaches and cups the prince's cheeks, before leaning closer, their faces merely inches apart.

"Will you grant my wish and kiss me?" He whispers, his breath tickling Roman's lips. The crown prince's eyes were blown wide and a dark red blush burned onto his cheeks. He could feel his heart skip a beat or two, the other's favor catching him off guard.

"Yes." He whispers.

"Then grant my request, please," Janus replies. With a shaky breath, Roman leans in and presses their lips together, his fingers gripping Janus' waist tightly. The kiss ignited a fire within the both of them, something odd yet it felt almost familiar.

Janus swiftly took out a small dagger hidden from a secret compartment of his clothes without Roman ever noticing it, before pulling Roman closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. The prince complied cluelessly, tilting his head for a better angle and deepening their kiss even more. Janus loosely draped his hands around Roman's neck, holding him closer to his body, his dagger ready to plunge it into the prince's back at any given moment.

He waited, he waited for himself to dig the dagger into the other's back, but he never did. He couldn't just stab Roman for some reason. Janus was annoyed, how could he waste a perfect opportunity like this? Oh but his heart, his heart cried out and pleaded for him to not do it, that this was something he had long craved. He tried to push those feelings away but it did not work, the dagger stayed in place. It was as though Janus was being drawn by force, compelled. What has gotten into him!? This was not professional of him, this is a mission that should be completed. Had he... had he gone soft for this prince?

Janus pulled away from the kiss and he could feel his knees start to buckle beneath him, he quickly leaned on the railing of the balcony for support as he subtly throws his dagger over the balcony before Roman could see it. As he stood back up straight again, he looked at Roman who was staring at him with concern.

"Janus.. is everything alright?" Roman asked gently. Janus looked at him before shooting him a fake sweet smile, "Everything is fine, dear Roman. It's the wine, I might have consumed too much of it." he explains, feigning a light chuckle. Roman narrowed his eyes at him, a concerned look on his face but he didn't question him any further. "I'll call a carriage to escort you back to the inn. Let's go." He says before gently grabbing Janus' wrist and pulling him along inside the palace.

---

"Oh, you idiot! How can you not do such a simple assignment!?" Janus exclaimed to himself as he pushed all of his things off the desk in annoyance. He began to pace and forth in the middle of his room, raking his hand through his tousled blond locks in utter frustration, having the strong urge to scream. Why couldn't he do this simple assignment?! Why did he let himself get attached to his target!? He had gone too soft. It was foolish.

He stopped in front of a mirror, gazing at his own reflection. His once perfectly styled hair was messy and tousled, making Janus sigh deeply and run his fingers through the strands of his hair, trying to tame his wild mess. He needed to calm down, think straight, and avoid further distractions. He was a ruthless assassin, he had killed many for all of his years in service to the organization, executing Roman would barely be any difficulty to him. The prince was quite a fool, he let his emotions control him more than his head. He was so naive, so easy to manipulate.

He had already fallen into Janus' trap.

But everything seemed to backfire back to Janus. He was letting himself be swayed by Roman, getting himself swept off his feet by the ever-so-charming prince. And the worst part is he knows that this will only make things harder, his feelings are already starting to get in his way, and it was frustrating.

Janus was immediately snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. He looked back at the mirror and his reflectiquickly fixing his messy blonde hair and smoothing out his wrinkly shirt before walking to open the door. "Alright! Please wait for a second!" he exclaimed as the knock continued on. He sighs heavily, opening the door widely. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by the presence of an all too familiar older man in a fine suit, a chill suddenly running down Janus' spine.

"Greetings, Mister Silverthorne." The older man said followed by a smile, though that smile was anything but genuine. Janus knew this man was not here to just chit chat. "How has your mission been going so far?".

Janus stepped aside as he let his superior, keeping his head down. "It has been doing well, sir. The prince is already wrapped around my fingers," he answered as truthfully as he can.

"Hm. Then why is that insolent prince still alive, Janus?" The older man asked, turning his head to look at Janus with those cold grey eyes. "Don't tell me you have grown attached? Is that the reason, dear?" he queries, causing Janus to stiffen slightly.

"...No," Janus answers simply, keeping eye contact with the elder. "I have not been attached to him. I have already made attempts in assassinating him, the crown prince will be dealt with swiftly." his voice remained steady as he keep his gaze on the older man. The older man's calculating gaze bore into Janus, seemingly dissecting every word. "Very well," he finally conceded. "But remember Janus, sentimentality has no place in our line of work.". Janus nodded curtly, concealing the storm of emotions beneath his composed façade. "Of course, sir. I understand."

His superior's stern expression softened slightly. "Good. Do not allow distractions to jeopardize the mission. Eliminate the prince as soon as possible. Do not mess this up, the organization relies on you greatly." Janus bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the directive. "I will ensure the mission's success."

As his superior departed, leaving behind an atmosphere laden with tension, Janus closed the door, leaning against it and exhaling a long breath. He sighed once more, slowly moving away from the door, walking back to his desk, and sitting down on his chair again. He stared ahead blankly, taking in deep breaths.

He needed to kill Roman.

---

Janus was already packing all of his belongings in his suitcase, no other evidence of his presence in that inn be left behind. His mind was racing, he needed to move fast, and now. If he doesn't kill Prince Roman soon, the organization will come after him, if not worse. He slipped on his black coat and reached for the gun sitting on the table, it was a handheld weaponry given to him by the organization. And he was going to use it to execute Roman. His beloved Roman.

Just as soon as he finishes packing up his things, the door suddenly bursts open and Roman was running up to him already. "Janus, I heard you were leaving early. Why didn't you tell me?" he queries with furrowed brows, a worried look etched on his beautiful face. Janus chuckled humorlessly. "I don't need to tell you anything, Prince Roman," he said bitterly, avoiding Roman's intense gaze.

Roman frowned and grabbed his arm softly. "Please don't leave, Janus. I'm willing to give you anything you desire. I will offer the three things that I value greatly; my heart, my dreams, my life." He pleaded, squeezing his arm reassuringly. Janus shook his head, looking away from him. "You are too generous but I want none of that," Janus stated plainly. There was a pregnant pause between them.

"Ever since I met you, you have completely turned my life upside down. You brightened my days that used to be dull, you brought the thrill that I crave." Roman exclaimed with such passion, grabbing Janus' chin gently to make the other look at him. "My heart beats only for you, I would not live without you by my side.".

"Enough! I do not want to hear those words any further, Roman. We are two worlds apart, we do not fit together! I am nothing compared to you, I do not deserve your love!" Janus shouted, pushing Roman away from him as hard as he possibly could, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes.

Roman remained still, unfazed as he stared at Janus with sorrowful eyes. "I know, Janus.". Janus froze and stared back with wide-eyed disbelief. He stared in complete shock. Did this mean...? "What..." Janus trailed, unable to form any coherent sentences. Roman smiled sadly. "I know who you actually are, where you are from, and what you are here for. After the commotion you made that day, I had my right-hand man look into your past.". Janus flinched, backing away a bit. Roman took a few steps forward to reach Janus.

"Then how can you still trust me?!"

"Because I love you! And we both know you love me as well!" Roman exclaimed in desperation. Janus scoffed as he shook his head before turning to look back at Roman. "You are quite wrong with that. I never loved you, I was only using you." Janus stated while glaring coldly at the other male, hoping to intimidate him. But Roman stood tall, staring right back at him.

"You may as well take my heart, Janus. It's already full of you!" he shouted as he went to cup the other male's cheek.

"You are a fool," Janus said bitterly.

"Yes, I am a fool. A fool for your love." Roman answered. "For you, Janus.".

"You say such things as if you have known me all your life. You have only known me for a week, Roman. A week!" he shouted, shaking in anger, pushing Roman away once more but Roman grabbed him by his wrist, forcing him to face him as he kept speaking. "I know. But being with you felt like I have known you ever since. When I heard beautiful music, I always thought 'Janus would like that', and when I see flowers, I always dreamt of giving them to you.".

"Oh stop! I am sent here to kill you! You can't trust me, Roman. You simply cannot." Janus argued with a shake of his head, trying to pull his hand away from Roman. But Roman wouldn't budge, refusing to release him even as his grip got tighter. "I love you! You being here to betray me doesn't make any difference because my heart has already fallen for you." he proclaimed, his tone firm, determined. "I trust you so much that I am willing to give you my life.".

"So please stay, be with me. I can help you escape your organization, I'll make sure they would not harm you. Please, Janus." Roman begged desperation filling his voice. Janus stayed quiet. "No.".

"If I betray you, I betray myself. But I cannot risk betraying them, my organization is very dear to me."

"Dearer than I?..." Roman murmured his grip on Janus' hand loosening gradually. He let go, stepping back. A pained expression covered his face as he lowered his gaze.

Janus looked away, "Yes, dearer than you.". It was a lie. But he cannot bare to say the truth to Roman, he can't. So Janus lied like he always does.

"I knew you were only deceiving me this whole time but I still let you fool me around because I love you, Janus. Whenever we were together, I always thought 'he's just pretending' yet I let you pretend. I fell so deeply in love with you, my darling Janus." Janus winced, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he heard the last words from Roman's lips.

"Say more of those words then I wouldn't hesitate to shoot you with this gun in my hand." Janus threatened as he raises the gun and points it at the prince's chest. A sad smile appears across Roman's lips and his eyes soften slightly as he says:

"Do it, shoot me. But remember, your days will be dark and dull without me by your side. When you stare at the stars at night, you will only yearn for me but there will be an empty space by your side like the aching hole in your heart." Roman stated sincerely, his voice quivering slightly. Janus clenched his jaw and clenched the gun tightly. "How can you still say those words to me while being held at gunpoint? Such a childish and foolish act." he scoffs.

"Because I love you, Janus..."

Then Janus pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room and Roman collapsed onto the ground, clutching the place where he was shot. He looked up at Janus, before smiling softly. "I love you.".

Janus stared down at him, frozen. He had done it. A soft sob escaped his lips as he stared at Roman whose eyes bore into his own. He shook his head and immediately stuffed his gun in his suitcase before quickly exiting his room through the window without looking back at Roman, pained to look at the man he loved.

"Virgil! Help me up here..." Roman choked out as he tried to stand up, he was already losing blood. His right-hand man rushed over, quickly assisting him towards the couch. He settled Roman's body onto the couch, "Oh I knew you shouldn't have gone here." Virgil said worriedly as he checked Roman's injury. Roman shook his head, insisting, "I'm alright.".

"We should contact the—" but before Virgil could even finish his sentence, Roman stopped him.

"N-no. Let him go."

"But sire—"

"That's an order." Roman interrupted him, his voice was stern and commanding. Virgil's face softened slightly as he sighed in defeat. "Very well, sir.".

Roman stared at where Janus has fled to. His heart ached but he knew he couldn't do anything with it, he loved Janus but he had to let him go eventually. Roman had loved him so much that he had risked his life for him. He wishes that one day, or in another lifetime, they would be two different people.

One who would finally belong to each other.

--------

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

[nostalgia-tblr]

woodelf68 59m @nostalgia-tblr yes of course tell your story about Covid and your building.

OKAY AM GONNA.

I probably need to provide some cultural context to start us off: I live in the UK in council housing, which other places may call social housing or possibly government housing. It's owned by the local authority and the bit I am in was built in the 1960s post-war "knock down all these slums and replace them with nicer housing" era. This particular development goes up and down a street and is a mix of maisonettes and flats. These homes don't have their own wee individual lawns but we have communal areas with a mix of paving and grass and the occasional tree. Since these aren't attached a particular tenancy/home there's no specific person that's responsible for them so the council do the big maintenance tasks of keeping the trees under control and - the basis of our story today - mowing the grass areas. Someone comes out in warmer months in a wee lawnmower-buggy thing and drives around and BEHOLD the grass is cut.

But then... THE RONA!!

The UK went into our first Covid lockdown near the end of March 2020 at which point the council by necessity paused routine maintenance on their properties. They'd come out for an emergency but anything that could wait was left to, well, wait. As you might suppose, this included the mowing of those communal lawns.

My building has grass on two sides and it grew as grass does and by the start of summer 2020 it was getting fairly long. Eventually someone - I don't know who - got hold of a lawnmower from somewhere and cut some of the grass. The whole area's too much for one person really but they did a good chunk of it. And over the next couple of weeks more and more bits of grass were cut. I saw at least two different people with two different mowers, so it wasn't all the one person. So now we had nice neat lawns, all done by the tenants of this building. Hurrah!

You're not supposed to plant anything on these lawns. (The one at the back is "a drying green" apparently, where we're meant to be able to hang out washing done in our laundrette. Which we don't.) A few years before someone planted a few flowers and then those swiftly and suddenly vanished and we all got a letter reminding us not to do that. But now the council weren't coming out to look at these things anyway, were they? And we had this nice neat lawn (or two, really) and it was summer and we were in and out of lockdowns with less to do than we usually would have. So someone planted some flowers anyway. Fuck the council! We can have flowers for now! And then someone else did. And so it spread. At time of writing in 2023 the edges of the lawns are mostly flowerbed with various pretty plants in them.

Other things started to appear. Garden lights. A couple of bird feeders. Plants in pots at people's doors. There's a barbeque grill round the back of the laundrette that gets used now and then. I don't know who owns it but it didn't used to be there and I'm fairly sure it isn't supposed to be there either. Soon the outdoor areas were like a big garden. People kept cutting the grass.

Normal building maintenance is back on and has been for some time now, so we've had the grass cut properly. Repair people and even Housing Officers (the people who are meant to tell us not to do these things) have been and gone and the gardenyness (that's a word, shh) remains. It's quite nice out there now and sometimes on the way back from the shops I go past the flowerbeds to see what's new. I don't know why this has been allowed to stay - it might be that nobody has complained and that it encourages the tenants to keep the whole area neat and tidy. Either way, it's nice.

And so that is the lovely wholesome story of how COVID made my building pretty.

[shadowydreamlandwonderland]

The Rulers who Bargained with Death - CHAPTER 10

Excerpt:

In that moment, he realized that he really was as lousy a brother as Aberforth had always claimed. He understood, now, why his brother did not want anything to do with him. Why would he?

Only half aware of what he was doing, Albus slowly turned his eyes over to Gellert and simply looked at him for several seconds, until he finally gained back the energy to continue the conversation and return Bathilda Bagshot's soft and worried gaze.

"So the rumors were true?", he asked, quietly, and Bathilda nodded swiftly in response. Almost hurriedly she spoke: "They were. To be fully honest with you, I didn't expect them to be. When I first heard it, I thought it was just some cruel lie some Muggle had come up with - you two should know how bored and prejudiced they are, always longing for something to blab about - but of course I should have asked the girl's family what was going on. These things are always so unpredictable. You can be however careful - and still there's no guarantee of anything. Aberforth himself thought that she must have gotten pregnant some time in July."

Before Albus had the chance to say anything else, Gellert spoke slowly: "While it's fascinating to hear about Aberforth's love life, I don't quite understand how it's our problem, Auntie. What do you expect us to do about it?"

"I was just coming to that, dear", Bathilda was quick to reply, leaning back in the comfortable armchair and gazing intelty into Albus' eyes. "Albus, your brother is really badly taken by all of this. He has dropped out of school for good, he doesn't have any money and he refuses to accept mine. He's depressed, half apathethic from poor Arianas' death, and he needs his brother."

"Aberforth's feelings are no problem of ours", Gellert answered coldly, his hand coming to rest like a protective, comforting weight against Albus' upper back as he spoke. "Albus has been through enough with him, and so have I."

"Gellert dear, I know that you only wish to protect Albus, but this can't be anyone's decision but his own. The only thing I'm asking of you, Albus, is to contact your brother - through letter or in person - and quite simply be there for him. I'm aware of the fact that neither of you are great fans of him right now, but-"

"'Not great fans'?", Gellert repeated loudly; his voice almost wavering in emotion as he spoke. "Auntie, are you even aware of why the duel started that night in the first place? I don't believe you are. My guess is that Aberforth very conveniently left all of that out when he spoke to you, because he wants to blame everything on me and Albus."

Bathilda simply gazed at them in silence for a few long moments, her pale face once again completely unreadable, impervious before she finally spoke again. "I wasn't planning on having this conversation with you just yet, but since you still insist on bringing it up... Aberforth hasn't told me a thing. To be completely honest, he has hardly spoken to me at all..."

Quickly, Albus and Gellert glanced at each other; hurried, rushed glances that betrayed both surprise and nervousness. Albus knew what Gellert was thinking; knew it without the slighest doubt - and placed a gentle hand against his thigh in response. He allowed it to linger there for a couple of seconds, meanwhile effortlessly diving into his mind - closed, impenetrable to anyone but him - and said softly: I'm not going to tell her. He saw how his lover smiled gratefully in response; a smile so quick it might well have gone unnoticed, but still Bathilda saw it.

"Don't flatter yourselves by thinking that I don't notice how you two secretly communicate with each other. I don't understand why you ever wasted time writing each other letters", she said, slightly coldly, and raised a light eyebrow. "Well? Are you going to tell me what happened?"

- -

So I finally posted chapter 10!! I love these two so much it's indescribable😭❤️ https://archiveofourown.org/works/46108756/chapters/116071705

[fanficmemes]

Hey guys!!! Thanks to our lovely anon/blog historian, Soupy, we now have a recorded history!! Blog lore, my beloved. I'll try and start adding in our new things too, but to any newbies out there, come take a look :):):):)

About the lore for this blog, i cannot remember everything, but i can do something about the cursed asks lore and history, since i just scrolled all the posts in the tags!

31 Jan 2021: an anonymous send an ask asking what people actually mean when they tell a ship if "pedophilic". This start a big number of asks about real survivor and how fucked up is fandom water down the word, purity culture, and consequently story time about harassing people in fandom for purity culture.

1 Feb 2021: someone speak about how much fucked up fics helped them. This probably opened the possibility of cursed asks. The same day, someone other send an ask about a terrible person known for harassing people about the sexuality of a character. The person is called "train fucker".

2 Feb 2021: anonymous point the attention on the train fucking thing. The cursed ask tag is created.

In the following hours, always in the cursed ask tag, people discover the fandom was Death Note and the guy was apparently in real attracted to trains and planes. Hell break down, memes are created.

History is made.

One of the characters will later become protagonists of the tag already existed. PKD already was knew since the 22 Jan 2021, when they sent an ask about the color asks and you had the intuition the tags he was probably someone with a piss kink and the tag "chronicles of piss" was created.

Cursed ask history part 2:

At this moment on time,the tags is still not clearly used. One of the First post tagged as such, the 9th Feb, is an anon answering to the ear fucking conversation about micropenis, while all the other posts are not tagged. The day after PKD enter the cursed asks tag, while the others ask still stay out of it. People start sending the stories they read.

12 Feb Hagrid/Hedwig fics are discovered. Owl fucking anon appear. Someone suggest a friendship between them and mlp guy.

Also mlp pony guy is a lore being who did not appear before in the #cursed asks, but already had their history in the simpler ask tag and in the previous cancel scale period, that we could call the ancestor of #cursed ask.

The First post tagged as cancel scale is from the 2nd Jan 2021. It was an anon answering your post of the same day "alright guys scale 1-10 how screwed r u if it ao3 history and bookmarks get released".

This is the gold era of this blog lore. The philanthropist, wound fucking discourse, rpf bdsm and mlp guy (with the first ask behind paywall) appeared during the first month and a half of the year, mixing at the end with the cursed ask tag.

Cursed ask history part 2:

At this moment on time,the tags is still not clearly used. One of the First post tagged as such, the 9th Feb, is an anon answering to the ear fucking conversation about micropenis, while all the other posts are not tagged. The day after PKD enter the cursed asks tag, while the others ask still stay out of it. People start sending the stories they read.

12 Feb Hagrid/Hedwig fics are discovered. Owl fucking anon appear. Someone suggest a friendship between them and mlp guy.

Also mlp pony guy is a lore being who did not appear before in the #cursed asks, but already had their history in the simpler ask tag and in the previous cancel scale period, that we could call the ancestor of #cursed ask.

The First post tagged as cancel scale is from the 2nd Jan 2021. It was an anon answering your post of the same day "alright guys scale 1-10 how screwed r u if it ao3 history and bookmarks get released".

This is the gold era of this blog lore. The philanthropist, wound fucking discourse, rpf bdsm and mlp guy (with the first ask behind paywall) appeared during the first month and a half of the year, mixing at the end with the cursed ask tag.

Cursed ask history part 3:

The philanthropist appeared the same day #the cancel scale started. With their iconic "i am a shameless philanthropist and so my bookmarks are public. I eat dead doves for breakfast. Come on down to the buffet y'all! You want some wound fucking? 8-yr-old omega abortion? I got you fam, watch me scramble these eggs" they left a forever sign in this blog. Still to this days asks are written to know if they are good. They obtained a 12/10 in the cancel scale.

Wound fucking discourse started, also the same day, by CB answering "is that where the wound fucking comes in??" At a ask about vivisection and medical experimentation. Discourse about what classify as a wound and how it works continued trought the day.

Rpf bdsm is thought to have beat the philanthropist with their mix of rape, underage, incest in a foursome, huge age, rpf tentacles and, mostly, someone getting turned into a pickle and his partner fucking himself with it.

This also started a string of asks about people being transformed in object used for sex.

Rpf bdsm would appear again later that day to specify the pickle fic was a rpf.

Cursed ask history part 4 (i think? Already lost the count)

Mlp guy. The one and only. Always in the terrible 2 Jan 2021, they first appeared in the tags of an answer to a marvel ask. #Hey HEY mlp guy #u know who u r #i'm afraid to look at this ask #like yeah we saw some shit tonight but this blows that outta the fuckin WATER #y'all would dead ass have to pay me to post it

Someone noticed the tags and asked about it, and a strong sexual tension between everyone and the unpublished mlp ask started. Someone ended up paying, cause the ask was later published as last post of the day and terrorized every follower of the blog. It was published as screenshot of the ask, and is not even put in the #cancel scale.

MLP guy stayed so in the apex of the cursed asks for some months, till the Pokémon ask by soupy was published the 9th may 2021, taking home a 15/10. MLP guy made a Tumblr profile, @therealmlpguy, in retiliation, and reblogged answering with a new terribly cursed fic. CB have still not voted it, so who have the worst cursed ask is still in question.

The day of #cancel scale the blog fanficmemes lost many followers, but the story was, as we know, not finished.

Cursed ask history part 5

I like to stay an half cryptid of this blog, so i will not tell my blog of origin, but i can tell you I am Soupy. Also i need to know if i am actually considered a cryptic of the blog and if i need to make a lore post about myself XD.

This is starting to get hard cause i cannot reread what i already sent, but the end of the tunnel is near.

We already told about owl fucking anon in the cursed ask tag, but their story is a bit more longer. The cursed ask was actually their big return, and they are probably one of the most proficious lore making, having also a part in the creation of the PKD legend. They should really have their own tag.

How? Well.

The 17 Jan 2021, when the big part of the cancel scale was done and the elders of the lore created, they sent an anon ask about what the cancel scale made them remember. It was a fic, red when they were ten or eleven, about someone fucking an owl while the owl was on their period. Consensual, and apparently the authors were two teen girl who write only character x owl. Their mom proofread. CB answered with their profile picture, edited so that it red "i can't believe it's gotten even worse!" Instead of "i can't believe it's not canon".

This post created, if we want to say, PKD, cause their first ask, that assigned them piss kink, was yes about the color asks (that, in case someone does not remember, was CB asking what colors people assigned to them), but had as explanation "if you keep posting stuff like the owl period whatever". So the owl fucking anon indirectly created, the 22 Jan 2021, PKD.

Owl fucking anon continued their ascension to lore of the blog.

The 12th Feb 2021 sent an ask were they were surprised someone had found Hagrid x Hedwing fics, and than sent anther 9 parts ask about the story of how they red lot of cursed shits thanks to an old tumblr blog that had the links, and how from there they found an author who only published Hagrid x Hedwing, and how that introduced them to FF smut.

(it is also discovered they are only 15, baby, please, i am noone to talk with the shits i red at the time but i hope you are ok).

They are now consacrated in the memory of the blog.

Cursed ask history part 6

Before continuing with the history of the cursed asks, is now time to finally give a small talk about PKD. We know how they originated, but how they become so famous?

Probably is the fact they appeared so many time during the last months. Being it for cancel scale, cursed asks or just normal asks, they continue to give us company with their exploration of piss kink fic. Is true they soundly negate having the kink the first months, but after lot of memes and people speaking about it, the 25 Apr 2021 they finally admitted of having the kink,and discovered it reading an a/b/o Captain America fic.

I would suggest to read all the posts, but they stopped being tagged halfway through, so is half in the specific #chronicles of piss and half in the #cursed ask

Cursed ask history part 7

The big lore is finished, and now only the later history stay.

#cancel scale posts and #cursed asks post lived side by side for some days. The owl fucking one of the 12 Feb was actually the last cursed fic published in the cancel scale post, leaving the tag only for some history reference later.

#cursed asks saw the appearence of every type of cursed possible to thought, with scat and nipple fucking between the different tags. At the start there was no specific day chosen, but later, for CB schedule reasons, Saturday was assigned as cursed ask day, and some week later it was moved to Sunday.

And here we are, today, to see what other cursed things we will bring in this world

Cursed fic History part 8

The cursed fic History have been covered, but i still think is important to talk about some of the before time tags that created the good ecosystem for the creation of #cursed ask.

The most famous is #the lube discussion.

It started the 23 Aug 2020, when CB wrote a post about FF using the word "supple" in smut without the thing being actually supple. In the tag, they added #also #that does Not work as lube.

Some anon asked what was being used as lube, that was answered with "one was peanut butter. I will not discuss the other". This started the bug lube discussion, were everyone talked about what they continingly see used as lube when it cannot be used as lube.

Between the classics soap and blood, we see some more daring one as mud, yogurt, aloe vera, years, milk, hot sauce and the more intersting, cannoli (have no idea if they are talking about the cream you put in cannoli or some american thing i don't know).

Nothing reached cursed material, but it put the first seed for the blog.

[finalgirleddiemunson]

When I Write, Will You Answer? Part II (Dream x Reader)

summary: you believe you have been very foolish. Dream endeavors to prove you wrong. the sequel to When I Write, Will You Answer? (wc 4.4k)

warnings: some self-depreciating thoughts, kissing, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: thank you to all the love on part one! put the confession scene in this side-by-side to the proposal scene in jane eyre and play spot the difference. 

masterlist

-----

Lucienne finds Dream of the Endless in the library.

“Lord Morpheus, there is a Messenger for you.”

Dream is up, moving faster than any human eye could follow, books swiftly discarded on the table. His soul screams Messenger. 

Lucienne stops him, a flash as she injects herself into his path. He has only a moment to feel his old rage, his old wrath at being obstructed or disobeyed in his own kingdom before he remembers himself. Before he sees the gravity of the situation etched in Lucienne’s countenance. 

“A Messenger, my lord. Not Messenger,” Lucienne finishes, her stare piercing over the tops of her glasses. Not our Messenger hangs unspoken in the air. 

The King of Dreams has no response. He studies Lucienne for a moment, all of his senses recalibrating with this news. 

“Then I shall see this Messenger,” he finally settles on, sweeping past Lucienne without another word. 

It is odd to see another in your place. 

Your siblings all carry the same messenger bag. Old magic spills from the golden stitching and the weave of the fabric, letting all who come near it know that it is from the Messengers and protected as such. 

A boy stands at attention at the end of his throne room, a youthfulness in the curve of his features despite the eons Dream is well aware this Messenger has lived. The stiffness of the boy’s spine reminds Dream of the first time you entered The Dreaming- the way you had held yourself so still, nothing short of perfection in your stance as you did your duty.

But then, oh but then, you had smiled. And consciously or not, you handled the letter gifted to you with the care of a newborn thing, delicately tucking it into your bag. Declared your happiness so openly at going to visit his sister’s domain. 

And somewhere in the universe, the Fates laughed. Dream should have known then. 

The new Messenger bows deeply at his entrance, and magic sends a small stack of papers from the Messenger’s hands. He lets them float in front of the Dream Lord, waiting for delivery. 

“Your sibling has tended to all messages to and from this realm for many years,” Dream states. The boy looks startled, head snapping up, not prepared to be addressed by the Endless before him. 

Dream himself is not prepared for the way the boy then straightens his spine and meets his gaze openly. 

Dream only has a moment to wonder if all Messengers are as stubborn as you and if your brother is the proof before he responds, “That is true, Your Grace. My sister has tended to many of the Endless.”

“And where is she now? Will she not return to her post?” Dream does not raise his voice, but the earth of the Dreaming gives a low rumble of warning.

“She still continues her work. She has sent me in her stead, and I will now be the Messenger of this realm, Your Grace.” The new Messenger holds himself perfectly- there’s only the slight edge of steel in his voice that gives him away. 

Dream studies him for a moment. He admires your brother’s bravery, to speak to him in such a way. If it were not for the matter at hand, Dream might even find himself amused by it. 

If you were here, Dream would cast you a look and you would know without words that he was thinking I understand now that all the Messengers were forged in fire and carry it with them. 

But you’re not here. 

“I see,” Dream says after a moment. The steel melts from the boy’s spine as he nods to the Endless. He shifts his weight, beginning to move, ready to flee from the Dreaming. 

“You have not completed your duty, Messenger,” Dream rumbles, stopping the boy in his tracks. A frost bites in the air. The title solely addressed to you for so long feels bitter in Dream’s mouth when given to another. It clogs the back of his throat, spills poison across his tongue. 

The boy returns to attention, eyeing the Endless wearily, “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

Dream does not acknowledge the request of forgiveness, now focused solely on another task. In his chambers, a letter placed carefully on his desk disappears, turning to grains of sand. The letter reappears in a swirl of sand in Dream’s palm. The black envelope is sealed with his sigil, and the wax holds a miniscule galaxy that swirls beneath the image. 

Dream studies the envelope for a moment, recalls the words he agonized over. And then remembers his company and presents the boy with the letter. 

The new Messenger looks startled for only a moment before he schools his expression once more, taking the paper from the Dream Lord. 

“See that delivered,” Dream orders, authority spilling from him, finally ready to dismiss the boy.

The Messenger stares down at the envelope. As he looks up at the Dream Lord, there’s a hesitance in the way he opens and closes his mouth. 

The boy at last settles on, “To whom, My Lord?”

Outside the palace, the air of the Dreaming crackles with electricity. A storm brews along the edges of the plane. 

The twin stars in Dream’s eyes flare. “I should think that would be obvious.” 

The new Messenger leaves without further delay, a black envelope tucked safely in his bag. 

—

“You’re reminding me very much of someone else right now,” Death says, her figure blocking out the sun and your view of the park. 

You try not to glower. “I’m in the middle of something very important.”

“No, you’re not,” Death chirps amiably before plopping down beside you. 

“No, I’m not,” you sigh. You lean against the back of the bench, resuming your people-watching and trying to ignore the burn of Death’s stare. 

“What are you doing here, Messenger?” Death asks. There’s a certain knowing, a wisdom to her tone that almost makes your lip quiver. 

Instead you breathe in sharply, pushing the feeling back. You scan the crowd of families playing games, couples lounging on picnic blankets, friends gathering in circles under the sunshine. You nod to a young girl, wisps of her red hair escaping her braids as she giggles happily, chasing after a butterfly. 

“Her name is Amelia,” You start, not returning your attention to Death, but knowing that she’s listening all the same. “She turns ten in the winter. Every year, she writes a letter to Father Christmas and places it on her windowsill. One year she asked for a puppy. The next year she asked for a baby brother.”

The butterfly lands in the grass for a moment and Amelia is quick to throw herself on the ground next to it, eyes wide as she studies the vibrant colors. You can’t help the little smile that the action brings. 

“Isn’t there some high and mighty code about sharing other people’s letters?” Death asks. 

“Well, the Messengers don’t technically tend to humans anymore.” 

Death nudges her shoulder against yours. “Softie.”

You lightly nudge her back. “Amelia’s letters seemed very important,” You hum. 

The truth is, you’ll always have a special place in your heart for humanity. The touches of inspiration given from the Messengers to humanity over the years resulted in advancements that were wonderful and necessary for humans, but it made you treasure the small insights you had into humans even more now. 

“I saw my brother recently.”

Ah, there it is. 

“Have you?” You say, playing for equal parts of innocence and naivety. Judging by the look Death levels at you, you only vaguely hit the target. 

“He said one of your brothers has been tending to his realm since his return.” Death’s voice is quiet. You hate that she has known you for so long, and can no doubt read the tenseness in your body. You force your fingers to unfurl, feeling the crack and pop of the delicate bones. 

“Well, it felt like the right thing to do.” Liar, your mind screams. It had felt like exactly the wrong thing to do, every cell had protested the thought. When you asked the favor of your sibling you knew yourself to be a coward, but could find no better solution. You continue, “I am surely no longer welcome in the Dreaming.”

“You know that’s not true!” Death is quick to take your hand in hers. “I don’t know what happened, Messenger, but it pains me to see both of you this way.”

“Both,” You scoff. A bit of fire licks up your spine as you turn to the Endless. “You know, I actually have heard from your brother.”

Death squeezes your hand, a silent request for you to continue. “He sent me a letter. Through my sibling.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asks. Her thumb runs along the back of your hand, ever flowing patience and kindness in the gesture. It drains the anger from you- you were never even angry to begin with. The rage was just easier to feel than the hollow echo. 

You rest your head against her shoulder, allowing yourself the comfort of being near your friend. At least you can still call Death by that title. 

You swallow thickly. Choke out the words, “He sent me a formal invitation to return to my duties in the Dreaming.” The invitation bore no acknowledgement of having read your letters, no hint to his own thoughts. It was only exactly as its function intended- an invitation. 

“Well that’s because he’s an idiot,” Death remarks without hesitation. It startles a giggle from you, quickly smothering it into Death’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m serious. What an absolute idiot. I told him he was worse than Desire, and all he does is go and prove it.”

You laugh freer now. Death’s shoulder moves under you as she shakes her head with a disappointed sigh. 

You revel in the comfortable silence for a moment, looking back out to the park. Amelia has managed to coax the butterfly to land on her finger, and she sits perfectly still so that she doesn’t scare it away. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, catch every flutter of the delicate wings. 

“Go see Dream,” Death says. She leans her head on top of yours. “I’ve got a letter for him that I would trust no other Messenger with.”

You squeeze her hand. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” She agrees. “But I could have one if it would make you feel better.”

“It’s alright.” The butterfly on Amelia’s finger takes flight and she lets out a shriek of delight as it dances around her before taking to the sky. “I suppose I would have to face it all eventually. Eternity is a long time.”

Despite your words, you make no move to leave. Death lets you lean against her for a while longer, even though you know she has her own job to get back to. You appreciate the silent strength of your friend and let her warmth revive you. 

“Yes,” Death replies. “Longer still with no one to share it with.”

You press your lips together, a physical reminder to keep your secrets your own. 

That, alongside the formal invitation penned by Dream, there was also a small flower in the envelope. 

Delicate and lovely, and very much like the ones that grow in Fiddler’s Green. 

—

The Dreaming is being repaired. Slowly.

The realm already looks better from the last time you entered, debris cleared away and lost structures reforming. But, it’s clear that there is still much to heal. 

You enter through the gates. You will not be slacking in formalities now- will give no misstep to further exacerbate the Ruler of the Dreaming. 

A shaking in your hands persists. You wrap them around the strap of your bag, tugging it tight to your body.

The last time you made this trek across the bridge, you carried a letter written in your hand.

Today you carry a small flower, lovingly placed so as not to be crushed inside your bag. 

The palace looks resplendent once more, the high arches no longer marred by holes and the glass of the windows restored. You can’t help the feeling of warmth, to see the place you love so ardently no longer suffering. 

How many times had you wished that you could see Dream of the Endless again? Now you can think of no greater torment in the universe. 

You stop before you enter the throne room. No doubt the King of the Dreaming has already sensed your presence in his realm, can feel your hesitation, yet you cannot help your lingering pause. 

A coward no longer, you remind yourself, trying to fan the sparks of your sorrow into fire. The most you can hope for is Dream’s indifference- you cannot stand the thought that perhaps he has only invited you to remind you of the foolishness of your feelings. How ignorant you were to even consider the two of you anything other than acquaintances. 

Certainly not friends. Certainly not more. 

You straighten your spine and prepare to see Dream.

The curved staircase to his throne winds up, up, up and- there. 

His dark coat flows elegantly behind him as he stands.

“Messenger,” The low tone of his voice rumbles in your ear as though he were beside you and not across the room. 

A century without him. He looks just as you remembered.

Well, not exactly. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

You would know him- his form, his presence, him- without sight. Lifetimes have been spent memorizing the shape of his hand, the curve of his face, the length of his gait. Lucienne spoke true all that time ago- something has indeed shifted in the Dream Lord. Something lingers in his gaze, there’s a certain softness in the set of his shoulders now. 

You ache to reach out, to touch him. To confirm that he’s real. 

You remember your place first and how to breathe second. 

You bow low, the picture of elegance. 

“Will you not greet me as you have in the past?” Dream asks. He does not walk so much as glide down the steps. You catch a glimpse of the never-ending night sky in the lining of his coat. 

You examine him, searching for a trace of mockery or a hint of anger.

Have you read my words, Dream Lord? You want to scream. I spilled my heart into the pages. Did you take care of it?

You say none of that. “I apologize for my delay. I received your notice to return to my post. What would you have me deliver, Your Grace?”

His head tilts slightly. “A notice? Is that what my writing was received as- an order?”

You try to not make your confusion overly apparent. “Was it not an invitation to return to my job here in this realm?”

“It was an invitation, yes,” Dream says. You wish it did not feel as though you were being slowly peeled open and examined under his careful gaze. “But intended as an invitation to welcome you back to the Dreaming.”

You nod, “So that I might continue my work for the Dreaming.”

“So that I might see you again.”

Hope is a foolish thing. It grows wings, beats at your ribcage, searching for escape. 

“I…” Centuries by his side, talking and conversing, vanish in a second. You search for the words and they slip through your grasp. Finally, you settle on the only truth that you can force from yourself, “It is good to see you. To know that you are well. I was… We were all very distraught by your disappearance.”

“I did not stay away by choice. I was held captive.” The Dream Lord’s eyes shine as he recalls the last century. 

Captive. The word is a punch to your sternum- it forces the air from your lungs.

You had guessed as much, in your many years of searching. Heard the whispers when he returned. You knew without any doubt that he would never abandon his realm- it had left few other explanations. The confirmation still stings like an open wound. 

“I’m very sorry. There are no words,” You say, gazing at the being you once considered a friend and blinking back a traitorous sting in your eyes. 

Your shoulders drop, a tenseness escaping them as you look at Dream. How silly of you, how childish, to only consider yourself. The repercussions to your own person. The Dream Lord has faced much more in the past century than you can even consider, and you dare to wonder if he read letters that you never should have written in the first place? Dream of the Endless has far larger and more important things to consider than you. 

You are glad for the reminder. There is comfort in your insignificance. 

You know Dream can sense the change in you- the way you finally settle into yourself as you remember your duty. Blue eyes study you, seeking to understand, tracking your movements.

“Is there anything I can do for you now?” You ask, breaking his gaze to flip open your bag. Ready to receive his message and flit off to the next realm. 

After you leave the Dreaming today you will be sure to find that secret place where you once locked away your feelings. You will remind yourself that this King does not consider you, could never consider you as anything besides your function. And you will be content with that- you would not spoil the lifetimes you have spent by his side with your own irresponsibility. 

Your feet shift beneath you, the cells of your being already prepared to take you to your next destination once you’ve received your orders.

“Be still for a moment, Messenger.” It’s not a command, but a request. Perhaps that is why it freezes you. Dream’s steps do not echo throughout the throne room as he draws closer to you, but they ring in your ears all the same. 

“You wrote to me all of those years, did you not?” Dream asks, voice soft and low. 

You’re ready to rip the fabric of the universe apart, dig your nails into the marrow of star stuff and pull if it will allow you to leave now and never return. 

The floor becomes your sole subject of intense study. 

“In your absence, I forgot myself. I must humbly request your forgiveness.” You blink hard. “I understand if your forgiveness is not granted, and I will, of course, abjure from your realm for good. I shall oversee that a more capable Messenger is sent in my place.”

His shoes and the edges of his coat brushing against the floor come into focus.

“You would be so quick to tear yourself from me…to sever the ties that bind us,” Dream says. You must imagine the low note of hurt in his voice.

“I would not force myself where I am not wanted. I have imposed myself for far too long.”

The Dream Lord drifts even closer. 

“Will you not even look at me, my Messenger?”

You have to force your gaze upwards to meet his eyes. You cannot hold it for long, your attention sliding to somewhere over his shoulder. You didn’t need to write him any letters at all- you know that under his eyes you are an open book. You bleed golden ink that spills and spells out your every thought. No matter how hard you try, you cannot stop it. 

“Lucienne informed me of your return to the Dreaming after my arrival.” Dream’s statement sends a bolt of shock through you, that your friend has so easily told him of your whereabouts. “I tell you this not as a reflection of Lucienne, but to offer an explanation. Once I was free, I went to retrieve my tools. My sand, my helm, my ruby.”

Your skin crawls, begging you to flee. You're sure he sees this as a kindness, his explanation. To tell you exactly why he has and always will see you as a Messenger and nothing more. Why would he have sought you out when far more important matters were at hand? 

“I needed them to repair the Dreaming and restore my power. But my motivations were even more selfish. I did not want you to see me as I was…Weakened. I could not have you behold me as anything less than what you deserve.”

You do not cry with the intention of being heard. The tear that escapes you does so without your acknowledgement and against your will. “Why do you cry, Messenger?” Dream asks. 

Another tear. It lands without grace onto the front of your shirt. “Because you are here. And you are whole. And that is more than I could have hoped for over the decades you were gone. And because I am very foolish indeed.” You spin away from him, palms scrubbing over your cheeks.

“You have never been foolish in my eyes.”

“No?” You laugh without humor. Brace a hand against your rampaging heart. “I have to leave.”

The pressure of his hand between your shoulder blades burns you. It is agony to be near him. 

“Why must you leave?” His fingers curl around your shoulders, even as you curve in on yourself. 

“Because of the letters!” You rip yourself from his touch, needing the space. Your tongue runs away as the fire reignites, blazing deep within you. “Because now you know! I can’t fashion a denial against them, they are mine. They are from me. And though I hoped without reason that one day I would see you again, I never stopped to consider the damage my words would do. I cannot stay here and be your Messenger. It hurts too deeply.” You take in a gasping breath, one arm curling protectively around yourself. 

He cuts the distance in a single step, bending the rules of his realm to step through the space. He stands before you, dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he looks at you. A newfound urgency possesses him. 

His hand cups your jaw, keeping your gazes locked. “I do not ask you to be my Messenger.” His thumb smooths a line across the tear tracks on your face. “I offer you my soul, my love- everything that I am and have.”

When was the last time the King of Dreams offered anything? Your lip quivers, brows furrowing. “Do you mock me?”

“And I would ask of you nothing in return, save one thing.” His other hand frames your face. Outside, the world is still. Silent. “You once wrote my name in your letters to call on me. Will you not say it now?”

“Morpheus,” Your voice is a breath. The name is a knife, lodged between your ribs. The name is an offering, given up at an altar. His lashes flutter closed.

He whispers your name in return. The truest name you have to give, not linked to your title. A name only said once before, when you gave it to him in a moment of friendship. 

It is not friendship that colors Morpheus’ tone as he whispers your name now.

He leans his forehead against yours, and you catch the end of his own shaky exhale that he does not need. 

“Morpheus,” you whisper again, just because you can. 

Because that thing with wings in your chest has made her exit and she soars high above you. 

Hope. Love. 

He kisses you and you taste lightning and ice, the last moments of a dying star, petrichor and honey. He rebuilds your existence in a touch. He is not hard or demanding, but wraps you in a gentle embrace. Morpheus holds you softly, as though you are a breakable and fragile thing. 

He pulls back enough and breaths your name- your name- against your lips. You steal it back from him by closing the miniscule distance between you once more. 

The length of his body finds a home against yours. Kissing Morpheus is as natural as traversing the stars that you have called home for so long. 

When you finally pull away to look at him, half in awe and not a little amazed, you can’t help but laugh. Pure joy spills from you. You have the vague thought that you can see the entire universe in his eyes.

“You are amused, my Messenger?” Morpheus’ hands rest against your hips, the touch sears you through your layers of clothing. He guides you until your back presses against a pillar. You card a hand through his hair, tangle your fingers there in the soft strands at the nape of his neck. You’re still cautious and slow with your movements as you shake your head. You try to smother your wry smile. 

“I am happy,” You correct. “Though, I must make one request of you before I give you my oath in return.”

“Anything,” He murmurs, his lips pressing along your cheekbone, then to your temple, the shell of your ear. It distracts you for a moment, drunk off his affection. 

“You have to get rid of my letters. I don’t like the thought that you can reread my pining whenever you wish.”

He hums low in your ear, “I will if you demand it, but I ask you to reconsider. They are a part of you, and I am not keen on removing anything of your creation from this realm.”

You sigh as though this is a great burden. Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp. “Well, when you say it so sweetly-”

Your words are gone with another kiss, more desperate than the last. As though the seconds apart were too much for him to bear any longer. You return it eagerly, open for him delicately and without hesitation. Your heart feels like it’s floating far above the two of you.

You break from him, stuttering in a ragged breath before reaching into your bag. Your fingers close around the small flower, drawing it out and holding it between the two of you. You guide Morpheus’ hand to open and place the flower in his palm, closing his fingers around it. 

You lean forward, your lips press against his knuckles. Sealing your vow. “I offer you all that I am and all that I have to give- though you have been in possession of my heart for far longer than now.”

Morpheus tangles your hands together. You let yourself hold him and be held by him. 

In the middle of your joined hands, the flower rests. 

[peachshadows]

AU:  MK gets transported to a world where Wukong was never trapped under the mountain or went on a journey to the west

if you haven’t read the og post i suggest reading that first or else this will be confusing

----

Wukong was not at all bothered or surprised when his beloved husband barged into his office. No, it was a familiar sight to take in as he carefully sips from his heavenly wine, trying to force the headache of having to deal with his many responsibilities of being the ruler to subside. Well, Macaque was finally here anyway so he can just sweep his clever shadow off his feet, spin him around for good measure and finally have him in his lap when-

“Peaches, what's this about you having a cub?”

Wukong chokes on his drink. 

His moonlight steps forward, slamming what seems to be a folded letter on his desk. “Unless you've been fucking around, I'd like an explanation.”

Wukong takes the letter and reads it. And reads it again and again for good measure until the familiar handwriting is etched in his mind. “This…has to be a joke.”

Macaque growls. “My sister would never joke about such things. You know that, Great Sage Ruler of Heaven,” he hisses Wukong’s title like it was the most vile thing ever. 

He takes in a shuddering breath. “Moonlight, I know you're angry-”

“Angry? Angry?! I'm beyond fucking livid right now! You had a child and didn't even bother to mention it. A child you clearly had someone with because it obviously isn't me!”

“I don't-” 

“Who was it then? Some lowly mortal?”

“Mango-”

“A high ranking demon?”

“Mac-”

“Or maybe that bitch of a celestial god that's been following you like a dog in heat?!”

“Macaque!”

“What?!”

Wukong takes in a deep breath, trying to control his anger–which is a feat on its own–as he grabs Macaque’s rough hands in his own calloused deadly claws. “My moonlight, I don't know about this…cub–,” he practically spits the word out, “–your sister speaks of, but you know I would never betray you. My stone heart only beats for you and you alone.” Without his gaze wavering, he raises his beloved’s hands and lays a kiss on it.

And there, he can see Macaque’s fury crumble like the fallen buildings he laid waste on the celestial realm eons ago as he sighs. His shadow leans in, and Wukong can already feel a victorious smirk tugging at his lips as he once again wins another battle and is ready to claim his prize. 

Then, Macaque stops as soon as he’s a breath away from Wukong’s lips. “Then you better hope that stone heart doesn't make a sound when we go out and visit Princess Iron Fan.” He fiercely wrenches his hands from Wukong’s hold and swiftly stalks towards the doors and, with a loud SLAM, shuts it behind him.  

As the Great Sage Ruler of Heaven, he was known through all the realms for his quick anger and destructive nature, so it's no wonder he starts wrecking everything in his sight. From his golden desk and scattered papers to ancient artifacts lying about his office was not given mercy from his rage.

And after, he finally reigns in his ire, he slumps into his creaking chair and runs a hand through his long wild mane. 

“I'm so fucked.”

[gauri-vishalakshi]

Letters (Part 1)

(A/N: My first time writing in a while! I have to say this is inspired by Sita Ramam a bit...)

Ram x arranged!wife!reader

---

Ram trudged back into the soldiers' barracks after a particularly long day of training. Each and every training session was getting more and more taxing, draining him of every ounce of energy he had in him not only through physical but also through mental exertion. He hated that every aspect of his training was to oppress the very people he wished to liberate, and hiding his true intentions were becoming harder and harder with every passing day.

Though Ram was adept at every aspect of the rigorous training, toiling day after day in the humid heat left him with bruises all over and the uniform he despised sticking to his body with sweat. He couldn't wait to get out of it the moment his shifts were over. Ram practically limped into the cramped room which was nearly empty since all of his fellow trainees seemed to either be out or on the night shift. His tired countenance instantly brightened at the sight of a single envelope lying neatly on his bed, the beige color standing out against the crisp white bedspread. Ram nearly sped to his bed and slumped onto it, liveliness creeping into his limbs as he read the familiar script penned onto the front of the slightly bulging envelope in black ink: Officer Alluri Ramaraju, Barrack 9. Swiftly opening the envelope, careful not to tear it or its contents, Ram could practically feel his heart leaping with joy as he saw your easily recognizable handwriting gracing the page.

Priyamaina Ram Gariki,

How are you? Babai told me that this training you are going through can be very draining, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Everything aside, I'm sure you are one of their most talented officers, putting all those foreign people to shame! Needless to say, some of these British women think they are so well-read, yet they haven't even read some of the most basic Agatha Christie novels, claiming its scandalous for women to write. As if! I guess boasting of skills they do not possess nor are willing to acquire is one capability these Britishers have.

Ram let out a chuckle at the thought of his wife scolding the British women for not having read some of one of her favorite author's work. He felt a stab of pride at how you were so sure he was surpassing the other officers with his excellence in training.

Are they treating you alright, Ram Garu? I have heard the foreigners sometimes treat us Indians very badly, excluding people like us from their cliques and belittling us and our achievements. I know it would be naive to ask you if you are experiencing something like that, for you almost certainly are. I hope you aren't in too much pain from having to struggle outside all day. Just in case, I have put a herbal salve I made myself into the envelope.

He winced a little at the formality of the added "garu", wishing you would just call him Ram, but he knew your relationship was relatively new and that the both of you had to ease into it. Though his babai had hastily arranged your marriage, the two months he was able to spend with you before getting shipped off to training were two of the most blissful and innocently carefree months in his life post his family's brutal death. Besides, this was the first letter you had sent him since he was assigned to begin training, and he was too busy soaking in his own delight.

Ram's heart tightened a little at your mention of treatment, well aware that you were referring to your treatment just as much as his. He had received a letter from his babai a few weeks prior in response to an inquiry from Ram about your wellbeing, where his babai had detailed how one of the British women's husbands had insulted you, calling you "native trash who can't even get her husband to stay with her a few months", amongst other, ruder things. Ram's blood boiled, and while he had resigned himself to their treatment of him, no one, no one had the right to insult his wife, whose only crime seemed to be marrying him. He hated himself every day after receiving that letter for subjecting you to biting, vindictive remarks from British people and Indians alike. That matter aside, his lips curved into a smile at your concern for his wellbeing and the effort you had taken for him as he continued reading your neat writing.

In other matters, I am proud to tell you I have started teaching Seetha to read and write! As you know, she is a skilled healer, and I believe she would do wonderfully in formal medical school. She is an adorably eager student (Vadina, what words are we doing today!); do expect to see a complete letter from her in the future! Babai is faring quite well; according to him, it is all because of my sambar; imagine!

Alright, I know you must be very busy, Ram Garu, and I do not wish to take up all your free time with my monstrously long letter. We send you all our love and prayers. Stay safe, please.

Itlu,

mi bharya (trans. your wife)

Ram was proud, indeed, to learn about Seetha's progress. He felt guilty he never had time to teach Seetha himself, and was happy that his well-educated wife was taking the time to help her learn. He found it amusing, as well, that Babai was enjoying your sambar, after listening to years of complaints from the man about his own substandard cooking. Yet he longed to hear more about you, and how you were doing, rather than generalized statements about the family or the house. Ram wanted to hear about the problems you were facing back at home from you, not from his babai or from Seetha.

He sat back against the wall next to his bed after stripping off his uniform and applying the salve you made to his aching muscles, letting out a sigh of comfort as, using a spare piece of paper and one of his books as a steady surface to write on to begin composing the letter he would send back to you. Priyamaina Y/N Gariki...

(A/N: There it is! If you guys want Ram's reply let me know! Hope you like it!)

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Nine

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence, 

Word Count: 2.9K

A/n: Another chapter is finished!! I’ve got an idea but it’s SO DANGEROUS AND Y’ALL MIGHT HATE ME IF I DO IT BUT ITS SO TEMPTING AND I THINK I’M GONNA DO IT ahem anyway I hope you guys enjoy this!

A/n 2: I’m posting this before work so I’ll reply to asks and comments when I get home tonight! Also, I’ve got the next part of Gangsta written up if y’all want that.... hehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“How have you been adjusting to this new home?” Thor asks one morning, a smile on his face. You grin back at him, the weight of Acadia lifted off your shoulders as you take a sip of your tea.

“Quite well. Although Loki has been an interesting addition.” The raven-haired man looks up from his book momentarily and gives you a look, to which you only smile.

From the moment you entered the cottage you knew it would be good for you to stay here.

“Well, we are at your disposal. I will have to go back to Asgard within the weeks to come, but Loki and the Valkyrie shall remain here should you need or want them.” You nod gratefully, looking out the window and pursing your lips as you watch the women spar outside.

“What? What is it?” Thor asks, following your gaze.

“I want to learn to defend myself. To wield a sword and fight off an attacker.” Loki scoffs from where he sits, his nose still buried deep in his book.

“For what reason should a queen wish to learn to fight? You will always have men for that.” Your defence is up in an instant, and you clench your jaw before composing yourself enough to reply.

“I do think that considering both my upbringing and the way I have been treated in my new kingdom, I have every right to want to learn to defend myself. I have many reasons to want to defend myself, none of which concern you, however, if you had the slightest idea of all that I have endured in my short time as queen you would not question me wanting to learn to defend myself. I have been shunned from my palace because my husbands fear someone will kill me. My own husbands have brought me far more pain than I would like to admit. I have every right to wish to learn how to defend myself and I will not hear a word from you about the subject!”

His brows raise to nearly his hairline and he looks between you and his brother before burying his nose back in his book, which elicits a chuckle from the blond king.

“If the situation is so severe that I need be sent away for my own safety, I need to learn to defend myself.”

Thor nods, a strong hand patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“I knew there was a fire in you. I could see it in those eyes when you spoke of running from the Kings. I just needed to find it.” He rises to his feet and straightens his clothing. “Loki does have a special talent for pulling the fire from even the most docile creatures. But I will go speak with the valkyrie. They will be delighted to have a student to train.”

He leaves the cottage to interrupt the sparring outside, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the first piece of control that you will have over your life.

~*~

“If that will be all, You are dismissed,” King Steven says, his voice low and exhausted. The royal adviser bows then heads to the door, hesitating for a moment.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties, but I cannot help but notice the absence of the Queen. Where has she gone?” It’s not the first time they’ve gotten the question in the week that you've been gone, therefore they already have their excuse rehearsed and perfected.

“We simply have no use for her. If she cannot even bear our children then what use is she to us?” Comes Steve’s practiced response.

“We were instructed to find a queen who could produce strong heirs. Our wife cannot. So she is no longer of use to us,” James adds, his voice dripping in boredom as he looks over a document on his desk.

The royal advisor nods then excuses himself, bustling to his own office with newfound haste and purpose.

“It’s been a week and we are no closer to finding who it is than we were when she was here,” Steve murmurs after a long moment of silence, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their decision.

“I’m beginning to question whether it was a good decision to send her along with Thor. Especially after he threatened to make her a queen of his own. What if she were to agree?” James stands up and walks over to his husband, taking his shaking hands in his own and sighing.

“I would not blame her if she were to agree. We have treated her like a prisoner. I have... brutalized her and beaten her and I will never be able to repent. If she were to want him I would in no way blame her. He has provided her with a safe haven. She can confide in him and trust him in a way that she may not be able to again with us.” Steve sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut.

“We need to find who it is that has caused this and we need to make them pay.” James nods, smoothing his thumbs over the back of his husband’s hands.

“We will. But until we do, we must remain strong. The Doctor is recovering and when he is fully recovered we will ask him who it was that attacked him. We will find who is behind this, but we must be patient.”

~*~

“Again!” You raise your sword just in time to block a blow from one of the Valkyrie, grinding your teeth together as you push her back a step then swipe your own sword at her throat.

She hops backward, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You are learning, Your Majesty. But you still hold back. Why? You cannot be afraid to hurt us,” The Captain says, walking forward and looking at you closely.

“You must show no mercy. Not when you must choose between your own life and the life of someone who means to do you harm. You will fight and you will fight to the death.”

Your entire body is burning with the exertion but you hold your ground, raising your sword and ready to go again.

“That’s what I like to see! Now, we go again!” Brunnhild exclaims, a grin on her face as she takes her fighting stance.

It’s just over two weeks since you began your training and everyone is surprised at how quickly you’re picking up on what’s being taught, but none more than you.

You’re just stepping out of the bath, muscles aching with a new type of strength that the Valkyrie have been beating into you, when your eyes catch a glimpse of movement at the window to your bedroom. A figure clad in all black is moving swiftly away from the cottage and disappearing into the darkness of woods, the setting sun aiding in the camouflage of the person.

Thinking that it’s none other than Loki going to wreak havoc on some poor defenceless wanderers, you don’t question it. Instead, you get dressed into a soft Asgardian gown and start preparing yourself for bed.

You’re just about ready to settle down with a book when a flash of white catches your eye from the window. You hesitantly investigate, heart hammering in your chest as you see a letter tucked securely in the window.

You open it and snatch the envelope before it can be taken by the wind, then shut the window again.

The seal on the envelope is that of Acadia, and your heart is in your throat as you realize that this could very well be a letter from the Kings. You��ve no idea what it may say, and cannot decide if you are more nervous or excited as you open it.

The script is not one you recognize, but your eyes greedily devour every word, the smile fading from your face at what lies on the page in your hand.

Thor finds you sometime later seated on the floor, the letter gripped tightly in your hands and your eyes focused on a point on the wall.

“(Y/n?” He asks softly, knocking against the doorframe to try and get your attention. You make no indication that you’ve heard him.

He enters the room, brows furrowed as he sees what you’re holding. “What is that? What does it say? Is it from the Kings?”

It takes a very long moment, but eventually, you find the strength to speak. But even then your voice is a weak rasp.

“Did you know the truth? Did you hide it from me as well?” Thor is beyond confused as he approaches you, taking the page from you and reading through the contents quickly.

‘Your Majesty,

Do not ask who I am nor how I know where you are, just know that you need be more careful who it is you call your lovers. They have sent you away, not for your own protection but because you failed at the task they wanted you for. They have sent you away because you failed to bear their children, this I promise I have heard with my own ears. I know not what they have told you but it is what I have witnessed. They have said this directly and I have heard it with my very own ears. You would do well to stay away from them, for they are dangerous. But I am certain that you and your late child are more than aware of that.

Consider this a warning, your majesty, for I know you are unsafe. You must take care and be far more careful of who you allow in your court.’

“Loki!” The prince is in the room within the same moment, his eyes full of confusion.

“Have the Valkyrie secure the area and find me the man who sent this! Travel to Acadia and alert the Kings. The Queen is no longer safe here.”

You’re confused. If the kings have directly told someone this, why then is Thor responding in such a way?

Loki is on horseback heading towards Acadia only moments later, and Thor is leaving the room as soon as the Valkyrie enter.

Brunnhild crouches next to you, a frown on her face as she glances at the note on the floor, its words echoing in your ears.

“Do not allow this to scare you, Your majesty. Do not give them the satisfaction of that.” You scoff and shake your head at her, “it is far easier said than done. All my life I have been punished for ever speaking, much less standing my ground. I have perfected the art of cowering, for men wish to do nothing but hurt and maim all so they can gain power.”

She sits down and shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

“You forget that we are all brought into this world through blood and through pain, your Majesty. We are the daughters of savage women. We are their savage daughters and we will act like it. We will bite and scream and we will take up space. We will not conform to their ideas of what women should be.” Her words are whispered into the still air of the room as if she were hiding them from any listening ears.

“Do not lower your voice for any man. Do not cower beneath them. You are a powerful being. One that can create life and you can also take it away, never forget that.” She pulls a dagger off of her belt and hands it to you, curling your fingers around the hilt before she continues speaking.

“You have the blood of goddesses and witches flowing through your veins. You hold a power that men could never understand. With every step we take, every time we refuse to cower... we honour our mothers, our grandmothers, and the ones before them. The ones who stood and fought and were torn to pieces. We will not be silenced. You will not be silenced. You are more powerful than that. You must remember your strength and your power. Do not let the men convince you that you are anything less than what you are.”

Your eyes sting and your throat gets tight, but she only hugs your shoulders and continues speaking.

“Your power is what scares them. Why else would they try to assert their dominance in such a way? But you will not fall. You will not allow them to treat you like that because you are the daughter of a savage. You are yourself a savage woman and you will act like it. Royal title be damned.”

You sniffle once, twice, three times, then nod, wiping your eyes just as Thor re-enters the room.

The Valkyrie take their leave and the King sighs, crouching down next to you and gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m so very sorry, Petal. You are no longer safe here. If someone was able to bring you this letter then I fear you are in far more danger than we had thought. The conspiracy against the Kings runs far deeper than any of us could have anticipated, and if we are to keep you safe then we must act quickly.” He pulls you to your feet and bustles around quickly, covering your shoulders in a thick cloak and packing a bag of your belongings.

“Wait, where do you mean to take me? If I am not safe anywhere?”

He tosses your bag over his shoulder and grabs your hand, entwining your fingers and giving your hand a soft squeeze.

“The only place you will truly be safe.” You’re still quite confused.

“We make for Asgard.”

[whythinktoomuch]

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor. 

--

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”  

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Are Family Now (Sherlock x Reader)

So I had to repost this, @elanna-elrondiel​ was the one that requested it and i’m so happy they did, I feel like since I had to post it once again I should name you for this brilliant idea. Enjoy!

“Mister Holmes may I introduce you to my niece, miss (y/f/n)”

A young woman smiled at him as she extended her arm for him to take, her hands were covered but a pair of silk black gloves and her white dress complimented her complexion perfectly. Sherlock took her hand and gave a gentle kiss, before looking straight into her eyes, however she could swear that he looked in her soul.

“Sherlock Holmes, Charmed”

“Likewise, what brings you to my dear uncles event? I don’t recall being in your presence before”

“Destiny I hope, only that could explain being around such an ethereal woman”

-

After that fatal meeting Sherlock had pursued her, he was astonished by her kind heart and lively spirits, she looked at the world in rose colored glasses and her curiosity about everything was so heart warming to him, it was also a reminder that not everything has to be a mystery and sometimes you need a little sugar in your coffee.

“Happy birthday beloved”

“Oh Sherlock, you spoil me way to much”

“As I am expected to do, especially since it’s your first birthday we spend together”

Sherlock had asked he to spend the night in his home, after their engagement a few days ago she was free of the judgmental eye of the public and could do whatever she wanted with her fiancé in public or not. Sherlock touched the button of her nose with the red rose he had brought with the breakfast, he could not believe how fast he had fallen for her, she was needed in his life, she grounded him, she was the sensitive happy little tune in his head that brought a smile on his face.

“Happy birthday dear”

“Thank you honey”

He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss that made her smile in between the quick little pecks that moved from her lips to her entire face. She started giggling at the matter and tried to push him away.

“Sherlock the food tray”

He swiftly placed it on the floor and dove under the covers yet still on top of her. She kissed him back as her hands held on the material of his shirt on the side of his torso. She loved how smitten he was behind closed doors, how his hands felt almost like feathers by how gentle he was with her, as he pulled back and looked at her, her right hand traveled to his hair, combing through his curls with the feeling of it making her smile once again.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, I guess my uncle hosts great events”

The scene was interrupted by a ring of his doorbell. He wasn’t expecting anyone, he had made sure to not be disturbed today, it was all about her today so a sudden visit was the last thing he needed.

“Maybe it’s your brother”

She spoke, sensing his irritation and questioning the rude visitor. He looked back to her and gave her a kiss once again, dreading the fact that he had to go and open the door.

“Whoever it is, they are getting a brief excuse as for why they can’t come in. I’ll be back in a minute darling”

He put on his robe and to cover his pajamas and left her with her breakfast. (Y/n) didn’t mind it, her stomach was very excited about the delicious treats she was offered by her love, the smell of the pastries and the orange juice definitely made up for the few moments he had to be away from her.

As Sherlock opened the door he was met with the very last person he expected it to be.

“Mother?”

“Oh Sherlock, it’s so nice to see you”

Eudoria didn’t miss a beat nor took into consideration her sons wide eyes and shocked demeanor, she hugged him tightly as a way to show how much she had missed him, even thought she valued her kids independency, they were still her children.

“I wasn’t expecting you to visit”

“Oh dear how could I not? As soon as I got your letter informing me of your engagement I had to come and meet the girl that will be a part of our family, you have a lovely home by the way”

She said as she looked around. It was the first time that Sherlock didn’t know what to do exactly, his mother was in the same home with his fiancé that has no clue of what is going on.

“Is she here? Of course she is, you were never fond of high heels”

She let out a small giggle as her gaze found the shoes that were placed right next to his from last night. Sherlock quickly regained his cool and smiled at his mother.

“It’s her birthday today”

“Oh good, go get her for me please. I’ll wait in the living room for you two”

Without even waiting for a positive or negative response, she walked away from the hall and onto the living room. Sherlock huffed as he walked up the stairs, he had no doubt that his mother would adore (y/n), however (y/n) always became nervous whenever the topic of meeting his family was brought up. As opened the door of his room, there she was eating the breakfast he had made for her, she looked  up at him with her mouth full, it was such a sight to see her do anything, she truly looked like a princess.

“Who was it?”

“My...mother”

Silence. As (y/n) waited for him to laugh or show any hint of this being a silly joke of his to tease her, as she waited the chances of it being a joke became thinner and her heart started to beat faster by the second.

“What?”

“I wrote to her about our engagement, she came to see you”

“no, no, no this can’t be”

“Darling, calm yourself”

He approached her, his hands taking hers. Of course she wanted to meet his family, she always tried to get some stories of them out of him, his mother sounded like a very interesting and excellent lady. Yet, this wasn’t the way she wanted to meet her, wearing the dress she wore last night, her hair is a mess and she didn’t have a stitch of make up, she couldn’t meet her in this state.

“Sherlock I can’t meet her, i’m not prepared”

“Dear she will love you no matter what, come on let me help you with your corset”

Sherlock took the tray and placed it at the table a few steps away from his bed. He was expecting her to be on her feet when he turned around, to his surprise she was still in bed, looking utterly mortified.

“(Y/n) come on now, she is waiting”

“What if you tell her i’m sick?”

“Dear, she is not stupid and she traveled all the way here just to see you, wouldn’t it be rude if you didn’t come down to meet her?

“I suppose so”

“Let’s get you ready”

(Y/n) let her feat touched the ground and slowly collected her dress. She stood still as Sherlock started tying her corset, he was.... used to assisting her tying it back up.

“What if... she thinks I’m not enough for you? What if she advised you not to marry me?”

“Then I guess we have once less invitation on our wedding”

“Don’t be ridiculous Sherlock, we can’t marry without your mothers blessing”

“And we won’t have to, you are a remarkable young lady that I am blessed to have in my life, I am sure my mother will think the same”

with one final tie, her corset was ready. Sherlock placed a light kiss on her shoulder and span her around to look at those eyes of hers. His arms wrapped slowly around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

“I will give you a few minutes to get ready, I will be right next to you through the whole thing alright?”

“Fine. I’ll be down in a minute”

He left her get prepared and for one last time went back down to his mother was had sat down in one of the chairs next to the window. The light of the sun brought warmth in the room and showed off the furniture that he had chosen.

“She is quite nervous to see you mother”

“Oh nonsense, I’m not some stuck up mother that thinks no one is enough for my son.”

“She just really wants to make a good impression, she always asks about you”

He sat in the couch close by her, patiently waiting for lovely little (y/n). Not even a minute went by before she appeared, her her up and away from her face and a nervous smile on her lips, she walked to Eudoria and bowed to an extent that made Sherlock think she touched the ground.

“Miss Holmes, it’s an honor to meet you”

“The pleasure is all mine dear. Let me look at you”

(Y/n) straighten her posture and smiled even brighter at the woman. Eudoria took in her sons fiancé before smiling herself.

“Oh my, you are a true beauty dear. My son is a very lucky man”

“I think I am lucky to have him in my life, you raised a very noble man miss Holmes”

“He is alright, but you... I see why he chose you”

Sherlock decided it was a good time to join the two women. He stood next to (Y/n) and took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze just to let her know he was there for her. He looked over at his pleased more that was still staring at (y/n)

“She is even more wonderful once you get to know her mother”

“I have no doubt about that. What is your name love?”

“(Y/f/n)”

“A  beautiful name for a beautiful lady. My so told me it is your birthday today”

“Yes miss Holmes it is my birthday”

“Oh please call me Eudoria, you are family now aren’t you”

(Y/n) almost collapse to the floor. Joy took over her and it was shown by how red her cheeks had gotten, with shaking knees she held herself and nodded at the request Eudoria had made.

“We must celebrate then, Sherlock I’m sure you can make a reservation to a nice restaurant for dinner”

“Of course, if (y/n) wishes to do so”

“I would love to have dinner with your mother”

“Excellent, now I have reserved a room for me in the Lenox hotel, I’ll give you two some privacy now”

“Allow me to walk you out mother”

Before she stepped out of the room, Eudoria opened her arms and hugged the young girl. (Y/n) restrained herself from fainting and hugged her back, the nervous smile was replaced by a big happy smile that reached her ears.

“Welcome to the family (y/n)”

“Thank you miss- I mean Eudoria”

Eudoria giggled at the flustered (y/n) and walked away accompanied by her son. As they reached the door she turned to her son who was also smiling, of course he was sure that they would get along but it was even better now that it actually happened.

“She is a lovely girl Sherlock”

“I know mother, she is perfect”

“Now Sherlock, marriage is not an easy thing so please don’t make me come here and beat you with a stick, cause I will if I find out you are being a bad husband”

“Mother if I recall correctly marriage is between two people, not just one”

“Oh please Sherlock, the girl almost passed out when she saw me, I saw how she relaxed when you took her hand, she loves you”

“And I do as well”

It was true, Sherlock loved and adored (y/n), she was his one and only. Eudoria hugged her son once last time and walked out of the house. As Sherlock was returning to the living room, he heard quick footsteps coming towards him and in a blink of an eye (y/n) had ran to him and hugged him tightly, making him take a few steps back by the force of hers

“Well now, someone’s excited”

“She called me family”

“You are family (y/n), I told you she would like you”

“Yes you did but.... she did as well”

Sherlock could only giggle at her cute outburst of excitement. (Y/n) had a lot of friends and family members that were already married or engaged so she had heard the mother in law horror stories, she was delighted that Sherlocks mother was not one of them.

“We must find an excellent restaurant for tonight”

“Yes, before that”

A squeal was heard that had escaped (y/n) as Sherlock swiped her off her feet and took her in his arms bridal style. Another kiss was given to her that she responded almost immediately this time.

“I have to give you one of your birthday presents”

“One?”

“Of course, one for your personal pleasure and another to flaunt to those rude little “friends” of yours”

“They are better than your brother”

[t-lostinworlds]

Wish You Didn’t (Peter Parker)

a/n: hello, hello. here’s another angst fic as ‘tradition’ since this is my first ever full peter parker fic so yeah, please be kind alska. this is very fluffy from the start but then it’s all downhill from there lol, hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: peter parker x female reader trope/genre: song fic - Wish You Didn’t Love Me by Jake Miller; best friends to...well; fluff and angst summary: You love Peter Parker with all that you have, but somehow, he doesn't find that as a good thing. Despite feeling the same way, to protect you, Peter wish you didn't love him at all. warnings: wholesome cuteness at the start to set you up for heartbreak, brief dark thought from peter, and swearing. word count: 13.9k+ (i mean, what’s new)

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Ugh."

Peter looked up from his textbook just in time to see you drop your bag on the table and then plop yourself down on the seat across him in the library. There was a look of pure frustration on your face, his brows furrowing at the sight of the deep frown written on your lips.

"What's up?" Peter asked, twirling his pen in his fingers as he tilted his head at you in concern.

You let out a big sigh, meeting your best friend's gaze with your frown still intact. "I've got a debate coming up tomorrow," you grumbled dejectedly.

The crease between Peter's brows could only deepen at your words.

You were the best on the debate team, always at the ready to take whatever topic it was thrown at you, headstrong. You're always excited to gush to him about what could be your winning argument, what would put the opposing team at a standstill. So, to see you be somewhat upset about an upcoming debate, it was so unlike you.

Maybe because it seemed last minute but by the looks of it, Peter can't help but feel like it was more than that.

"What's it about?" he asked.

You blew out your cheeks, hand coming up to play with the notebook he had on the table before you blurted out,

"Spider-Man: Friend or Foe."

Peter cleared out his throat just as he turned the page of his book to hide it, sitting straighter in his seat, pretending to get back to reading to avoid your gaze.

He didn't tell you.

Years and years of being best friends yet you didn't have an ounce of clue that you were sitting right across the person who was going to be the topic of your debate.

Peter trusts you of course, he trusts you with his life. His reason was simple really: he just didn't want to drag you into it.

Plus, knowing how worried you can get, he just didn't want to put you through all of that, especially on top of all things college and with what's going on in your personal life. He already feels so guilty with the stress he's put May through, he can't bear to see you have that burden too.

And most importantly, Peter just wanted to protect you.

"Still don't see why you're bummed about it," he said with a shrug, gaze running over the text printed on the paper but none of it was going inside his mind.

"I got picked to defend him."

Peter's head shot up at that, eyes narrowing on your seated form as he asked, "Oh, so you think he's a foe?"

"No..." you trailed off, eyes wandering around his slightly messy table littered with notes, textbooks and books, highlighters and everything in between. "Not really."

Closing his book, Peter leaned forward, arms rested on the surface with his full attention now on you. "Care to elaborate?"

You pursed your lips, shifting in your seat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I mean, he's probably got good intentions but I've read about the Sokovia accords you know," you started, Peter nodding to show you that he was following. "And it's a debate. The other party would do their best to make him out to be a reckless vigilante. I can already think of so many arguments that they'd throw."

"Such as?"

"That he could be doing this for fame and attention, or that he is doing good things but his drive to do them isn't exactly the best. Is it for revenge? Bragging rights or maybe something darker? Another one could be that he's young, careless and naïve. We don't know what he's really capable of superpower wise which means he can probably hurt innocent people in the future.

"Not to mention if he's on the right or wrong side of the law. Who has to pay for the collateral damages that he has caused? Is it right to let him go scot free? I could go on and on and I just," you paused, resting one arm on the table and then placing your head on it as you looked up at your best friend. "I can't really counter those things with full force because I don't really know the dude nor do I have any real, solid facts about him to back up my claim that he's completely on the good side."

"Research hasn't done you good has it?" Peter hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hand came up to poke your cheek, a sweet attempt to try and rid of your frown.

You shook your head no with a deepened pout, taking his hand away from your face with your own free hand as your nimble fingers then played with his absentmindedly.

Peter's heart grew warm at the gesture.

"There's literally nothing on this spider dude aside from blog posts written by fanboys and girls gushing about how amazing he is. Which is never a great source since it's already so biased," you explained.

"What would truly help you aside from research?" he queried, eyes trained on the way you interlock your fingers together and then letting it go only for a second before interlacing them again, letting it go and repeat. It was such an adorable habit of yours, one that Peter has grown so fond of, your touch always delicate and sweet whenever you fidget with his hand.

"An interview I guess? It'd be nice to get to ask him a few questions. Like, it would help to know why I'm on his side. Get a perspective on why he does what he does, you know?" you sighed, eyes fluttering close with your frown still intact. "At least that way, I know I'm defending someone who I know is worth defending."

Peter hummed as he tore his eyes away from your intertwined hands and back on your sprawled out upper-half on the table. He pursed his lips, gaze on the dip and valleys of your beautiful but stressed face. His brain grew at odds the more he took in your deep frown—one he always hates seeing no matter the reason—as he raked his thoughts on what he could possibly do to help without having the trouble of revealing his secret to you.

"But it's genuinely impossible to talk to him—"

"You could send him an email," Peter blurted before he gave himself time to properly process his words. Hell, he didn't even get to weigh the odds and dangers of his proposition. But now that it already slipped out his mouth—

Shit. I don't think this is a good idea...

Your eyes snapped open as you gaped up at him, brows deeply furrowed as you wondered, "Spider-Man...has an email?"

Too late to back out now, Parker.

"Well, all the Avengers do, under Stark Industries to be specific," Peter said in the most nonchalant way he can muster. "Since, you know, Stark tech in their suits, modifications, upgrades, what color they want it as, etcetera, it's how they talk about those stuff."

You abruptly sat up, dropping his hand as you laid both of your palms flat on the table, eyes now twinkling with hope and excitement. "You think he'd actually see it?"

"Yeah, not many people know about it so," he trailed off with a shrug, opening his book again and flicking through the pages.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze as you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. "How'd you know?"

Peter scoffed with a shake of his head, never looking away from his book given that you'd notice his lie right off the bat if he does so. "I don't know Y/N, probably because I work there," he pointed out. Well, technically it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"And you're giving me it?"

He shrugged, finally meeting your gaze. "I don't see why not? As long as you don't share it around or sell it," Peter warned, shooting you playful glare.

"Yes! Oh my—you are the best," you exclaimed excitedly, jumping out of your seat and rounding the table to give him a back hug. "You're a lifesaver Pete, thank you." With one last squeeze, you pulled away and swiftly snatched your bag, feet in a rush as you treaded towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked bemusedly.

"Sending the email! Hopefully I can talk to him tonight!" you called back to him.

Peter can't help but shake his head at you with a laugh, "I haven't even given you the email!"

"Just send—"

Sssh!

"Oops, sorry," you whispered, finger over your lips as you rushed back to his side with a bright smile. "Just text me it please? Love you," you hummed, hand landing on his shoulder as you leaned down to place a swift but sweet kiss on his cheek.

The skin where your lips once were quickly turned pink, Peter's heart skipping countless beats at that four-letter word, unable to conjure any response the more he thinks about the actual weight of the warmth that's grown in his chest. He's heard you say it to him many times before of course, but despite holding a different meaning—one with friendship laced around it—it never fails to make Peter's heart soar.

Albeit wanting it to mean something else, something more, Peter knows he shouldn't. Always quick to silence his heart on screaming for more given that it wasn't ideal, for your sake. He always reminds himself that he already feels utmost content with what he has with you now, content with the love you make him feel even if it's only to an extent.

It was enough, for your sake.

Nothing but adoration coated his features as his eyes followed your every movement. His heart grew even more when you beamed at him once you pulled away, ruffling his hair playfully before hurrying out of the library, shooting him one last smile and a wave before disappearing from sight.

Peter can't wipe his own grin off his face, just the sight of your beautiful smile and your joyful eyes, easily contagious on his part. But then realization dawned on him and the curve slipped away, replaced by a frown laced with panic as he pulled out his phone to check the time.

"Shit."

He quickly gathered up his things and rushed out of the library, taking the back door out of the building to the nearest alley. Peter had his eyes glued to his screen the whole time as he quickly made a fake but believable enough email before sending it to you.

***

"Heard you were looking for me?"

You let out a yelp, jumping a few inches back as you spun around towards the direction of the voice. A hand flew over your chest the moment your eyes landed on a figure, shock befalling you as you froze. He was squatted down on the ledge of the rooftop of your apartment building, red and blue faint under the night sky. "Oh my—uh, hi," you squeaked, eyes blinking rapidly to see if what you're seeing was actually real.

The wind was blowing cold, your black pants, plain t-shirt and jean jacket doing just enough to minimize it. The sound of the streets of Manhattan was echoing below, very busy but faint due to your distance from the ground, enabling you to still hear his voice loud and clear when he spoke again.

"Hi, I'm Spider-Man," he introduced as he offered you his hand, masked eyes trained on you as you cautiously walked towards him.

"I know. I'm Y/N," you said, hesitantly reaching out to take his hand, the material of his suit rough against your palm as you shook it. You were in absolute awestruck, eyes glowing with wonder as you did nothing but gape at him.

"I know," he said and you can practically hear his smile behind the mask. He gave your hand a squeeze, the odd feeling that coursed through your bones made you tilt your head at him in mere curiosity, brows furrowed in utter confusion. Mr. Spider-Man swiftly cleared out his throat, eyes casted down as he quickly let go of your hand. "It's on your email," he added hastily.

"Oh, yeah," you muttered. A few seconds passed and you just stood there, staring at him like some star struck fan as you rubbed your hands together in both the cold and slight nerves. After a few seconds more, you finally spoke, "Wow, okay, I didn't expect for you to actually show up."

You don't know where to actually begin.

The first thought you had after sending the email was that he'd never actually see it, or if he does, he'll simply ignore it. You had been ready to wait out in the cold for a couple hours, anticipated the letdown to be frank. Yet here he was, the Spider-Man, right in front of you who, amazingly, even arrived right on time.

Spider-Man was making you nervous.

Normally, you have no problem with doing interviews. It is a form of research after all, and being on the debate team, you've done countless of it. But right now feels different.

Maybe it was the fact that he was a fucking superhero. He's someone who has actually done quite a lot and has probably seen and experienced other worldly things just as much if not more. Or maybe it's the fact that you simply don't know where this will go from here.

Will it do well that you'd get to ask proper questions and get answers that would truly help or will he get cocky and rude that this interaction would only end up being a waste of time?

Despite being famous, he was a complete mystery to everyone. The person behind the mask was wholly unknown and that itself makes you very nervous.

With a shrug, he said, "Well, wouldn't pass helping a friend."

"Are you making your voice deep?" you asked, the sound of his voice a little too...computerized for it to be normal.

He nodded. "Voice modulator, it helps keep my secret identity, well, a secret."

"Oh, yeah, figured."

You stayed quiet again after that, arms crossing over your chest as you kept your gaze steady on him, features coated with a mixture of emotions from confusion, amazement, curiosity and everything in between.

He chuckled softly, probably noticing your painfully obvious shyness. "Got questions for me?" he prodded.

You blinked a few times before frantically nodding, recalling how you specifically said in the email that you just wanted to ask a few questions. You then took out your phone, showing him the voice recording app and asked, "Is this okay?"

Spider-Man tilted his head at you with a soft hum.

"Yeah, I trust you with it."

You smiled.

The pressure and nerves turned lighter on your shoulders as you somewhat felt more comfortable...safe around him. And there's just something about the fact that he trusts you that warms your bones. It's like he's certain you only have his best intentions in mind, as if he knows you weren't in this for a selfish gain. It's really comforting in a sense, makes you feel confident that you're on the right track.

It makes you feel good about yourself.

With a soft nod, you hit record, words of curiosity slipping out of your lips soon after. "Those webs, do they come out from you?"

"No, they don't," he chuckled, taking out a vile from his wrist and then handing it to you. "That is what you call web fluid and I make them."

You gingerly took it in your hands, eyes scanning it briefly before you gave it back. "Impressive."

"Thanks. So, the fluid is like the bullets and these right here"—he showed you the black bands on his wrists with his hands open—"Are the web shooters that make me well, shoot webs. Like so," he explained as he pressed the button on his palm, the webs streaming out soon after and snatching an empty can on the far corner before it landed back in his hand.

You pursed your lips with a nod. "So, you can make weapons," you said with a certain tone in your voice that caused him to shift in his place.

"I—uh, no?" he stuttered, placing the can back on the ground loudly and in a not-so-subtle way. "I will never build a nuclear bomb if that's what you're wondering," he rushed when you narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion.

"Didn't say anything about a nuclear bomb," you pointed out with a tilt of your head.

"I-I'm, uh, I didn't—"

"I'm just messing with you," you cut him off with a soft laugh, your nerves diminishing swiftly at how he seemed to be a little shy and awkward but in an endearing way. It makes him appear more human, normal. "You're so tense, just relax."

"Yeah…okay," he breathed out. He turned around to face the city, going from crouching to fully sitting down on the ledge, hands folding on his thighs as he looked at you over his shoulder. He jerked his head, gesturing for you to come closer to which you gladly did.

You leaned on the concrete with soft hum, placing your phone beside his thigh so it was now between you both. You scanned the beautiful city with a content smile, the view never ceasing to amaze you despite seeing it too many times before. The rooftop is your best escape after all. It was nice to be far away from everything, even if it's only for a moment. Nothing but peace coats you whenever you're up here, may it be from the gentle gush of the wind or the bright shine of the moon that spreads throughout the blanket of black sky.

With a sigh, you looked up at the mask man beside you. Flustered was what you came to be when you noticed that he was already staring at your face, the white and black of his eyes looking somewhat soft, and you swear he looked almost as if he's smiling behind the mask. Warmth was quick to coat your body, a stark contrast to the cold breeze as you cleared your throat, causing him to swiftly look away.

"Sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Really want to impress you."

You felt your cheeks heat up, a timid smile growing on your lips as you shrugged. "No need to impress anyone, let alone me," you said. "Just be yourself Spider-Man."

Oh, I truly wish I could just be myself right now Y/N—

"Okay," Peter hummed with a smile.

"Are you sure this is fine?" you asked, gesturing towards your phone in the middle of you two. "I don't want to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable by recording our conversation."

Peter's heart grew warm as his smile widened. Always considerate you are, too kind for your own good. If it was someone else, he probably would've had loads of pictures taken by now. Or maybe even a hidden camera somewhere to catch him at the wrong moment. Many of which would then be posted on the internet to spread like wildfire. Not that he minded the photos and videos but it's off putting sometimes, especially when they churn out not-so-good headlines to match.

"Promise me you won't share or sell it?" he joked, mentally cursing himself soon after once he realized it's the same words he said to you earlier in the library. Although he felt a wash of relief right away when you didn't seem to notice as you only flashed him a sweet smile in return.

"I promise," you hummed, turning to face him as you leaned sideways on the ledge. "What other superpowers do you have?"

"Enhanced abilities such as super strength, I can run fast and heal fast. Dialed up senses meaning I can see, hear, smell and feel things on another level. I'm...sticky, meaning I can climb up walls and stick to stuff like how a spider would. And oh, spider sense," Peter elaborated, watching with amusement as he saw your eyes change from awe, confusion, to impressed and back to confusion.

"Spider sense?"

"I can sense danger and threats when it's coming, like I feel a tingle."

"That's really cool," you hummed, hand rapidly lifting up as you took a fast and big swing towards his shoulder. He caught your fist in his hand way before you could even have the chance to land a punch.

Peter shook his head at you in pure amusement, giving your fist a squeeze before he let it go. "That wasn't so successful now was it?" he chuckled.

"It was worth a try. Just testing the waters to see if it would trigger your 'spidey sense' as you call it," you laughed, quoting the two words with your fingers teasingly.

"It didn't because one, anyone could see that punch from a mile away, and two, I said dangers and threats," he paused, tilting his head at you adoringly. "And you're not really a threat."

"Hey, I can be threatening," you scoffed, chin up with your chest puffed out.

Peter couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips. "I'm sure you can. I bet you can handle yourself well, especially with proper training." He took in a deep breath before saying, "But that's not really what I meant."

"What did you mean?

"That I feel safe around you."

"Oh." You blinked at him a few times before you fully broke his gaze, suddenly turning bashful as your eyes watched the busy street below where the cars and people were scurrying about in the cold New York night. Squaring your shoulders, you added, "Well, for what it's worth, I feel safer around you now too."

Peter felt his heart leap out of his chest, a proud smile erupting on his face, gaze dropping on the ground—or lack thereof—shyly as red started to dust his cheeks. "That's worth a lot," he hummed, lifting his head at the same time you did, your eyes locking immediately.

You beamed at him sweetly, shifting on your feet before letting out a breath. "Right, onto a more serious question," you paused, gesturing at the whole of him with your hand. "Why exactly are you doing this?"

"What do you think is the reason why I'm doing what I do?" he asked back, eyes trained on your face for a moment before he looked straight ahead. He can feel your orbs burning a hole on the side of his face, your brows furrowed in a way that Peter could do nothing but grin widely. He always found your thinking face endearing.

"I don't know, could be a lot of things. Could be money, glory, revenge, bragging rights, most likely fame?" you suggested.

Peter shook his head, keeping his gaze on the building across. "If I was doing this for fame, you'd think I would've shown my face by now?"

"Touché."

"But no," he breathed out, eyes now trained on his feet as he swung them aimlessly on the edge of the building. "I just want to help to the best of my abilities. I feel like I was given these powers, me, for a reason. If I'm not going to use it for a good cause then what's the point of having them?" Peter turned to face you, holding your gaze securely, even behind the mask as he continued, "If I'm not going to help out the little guy, even if I can easily do that then, who will? I can't simply watch the world fall apart when I could've done something to prevent it or provided a little bit of help, you know?"

You nodded. "With great power comes great responsibility."

Peter cracked a smile. "Yeah, exactly," he hummed, gaze dropping to stare at his gloved hands, turning it over before clasping it together with a sigh.

"How do you feel about the people who think you're not on the good side? That you have some hidden agenda?"

"I pity them if I'm being honest."

"How so?"

"I mean, if you're at a point in life where you can't accept that someone is helping simply for the sake of helping, then you've must've gone through a lot to not trust easily," Peter started, fingers fidgeting with his web shooters before he met your gaze. "We've been taught to always think that there's an incentive in all that we do. If you give, you have to receive and vice versa. But why can't we simply give and not expect something in return? People are so accustomed to the whole give and take thing that when someone just gives, it feels unfamiliar. That's why they get suspicious. They overthink that surely I'm doing this for something else when there's really no other reason than simply wanting to help.

"I also get it. It's a cruel world we're living in unfortunately where we have to keep one eye open. But I wish people would begin to accept that someone is helping to make the world a better place by simply wanting to have a safe and better place. No hidden agenda whatsoever," he finished, brown orbs catching sight of how your smile grew wider, brighter.

"You're a wise man," you said with an appreciative nod. "With a really good heart too."

"Thanks. I try my best."

"I'd say you've probably lived a life, traveled the world, seen so many new things, been to space," you trailed off, raising a brow at him in question.

"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckled.

"Are you a billionaire? Are you a prince in disguise or maybe a king? Are you a lawyer? Or maybe some kind of mythical being like Thor?" you poked.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he shrugged. "Nah, I'm just a kid from Queens."

Shit.

Peter you fucking idiot. You absolute dumbass—

"Huh, I've got a best friend who's from Queens," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper but thanks to his enhanced hearing abilities, of course he heard it loud and clear.

Peter bit the insides of his cheek to stop his smile, even though you weren't going to see it anyway since he has a mask on. I know you do. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said aloud instead, standing up to his full height with his hand out for you to take.

You narrowed your eyes at his outstretched palm before you looked up at his masked face. "Are you going to kidnap me now and sell my organs?"

Peter threw his head back with a hearty laugh, the sound ringing in the air as he shook his head at you. "No, I'm going to show you New York from a different angle," he said, smiling widely as he leaned over closer, hand open wide. "Do you trust me?"

"You did not just quote Aladdin," you laughed, taking your phone off the ledge to stop recording before shoving it in your pocket.

Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "What if I did?"

You smiled widely at that, placing your hand securely in his and giving it squeeze. "Then yes, I trust you."

Peter hoisted you up on the ledge with ease, both of you now standing side by side on the edge of the building. A small squeak came out of you when you curiously looked down and saw that the ground was actually very far away, your grip on his hand tightening when all you could think of was splat. He chuckled, moving closer to you as he lifted your arm and placed it over his shoulders, your eyes snapping back up to look at his masked face.

"Is this okay?" he hummed, his arm wrapping around your waist strongly once you gave him a nod approval. "Hold tight," Peter said.

"Please don't let me go," you whispered, worry-filled eyes boring into his own while a mixture of both nervousness and excitement coated your features.

"Never."

Peter jumped.

You screamed.

The strong gush of the wind swiftly hit your face, hair whipping around as your grip around him tightened starkly. You felt your stomach churn while you swung in the air, passing one building to another, going high up and then dropping back down in a swooping motion. Your legs wrapped itself around his waist almost instinctively, all in fear of falling to your death.

"This was a bad idea!" you screeched, head buried on the crook of his neck, eyes shut tight ever since your feet left the ledge.

"Open those eyes Y/N! You're missing all the fun!" Peter laughed, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. He felt you slowly pull your head away from his neck, lids inching open one by one until you finally gawked at the wonderful lights and blaring colors of the city in awe.

Your mouth fell agape the more you took the sight in, the city a blur but somewhat beautiful in its own unique way. You loosened your grip around his shoulder just so you could lift a hand up in the air, a satisfied hum vibrating in your chest as you felt the cold wind brush through your fingertips in the most comforting way.

That's when you let out a gleeful laugh.

Peter felt his heart melt ten times over at the beautiful sound. His cheeks were hurting from grinning ear to ear the more he took in how you're having the best time.

You looked absolutely breathtaking, the city lights casting a glow over your features, eyes holding nothing but pure bliss and wonder with that lovely, bright smile of yours to match.

The city was pretty sure, Peter loves seeing it at night whenever he does his patrol. But you, you were gorgeous, a stunning sight that he could never ever have enough of. You never do fail to make his heart stop, never fail to take his breath away, never fail to make his limbs all weak and Peter found himself falling deeper despite trying his hardest not to.

"This is so cool—no!" you shrieked, eyes wide with fear as you shot high up midair and went free falling for a few horrifying seconds before you landed back into his embrace, slotting right into his chest. Peter laughed as you quickly went to latch onto him, your grip viselike with both arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. He wrapped an arm around you securely as his other hand held tightly on the web, both of you now face to face as you continued to swing in the air.

You lifted your head up to look at him fully, faces now inches apart as you stared right into each other's eyes. Peter felt his heartbeat quicken when your orbs held a certain spark, as if you could see the actual him right behind the mask. His eyes fell on your lips, slightly parted as you gawked at him. They look really soft, very pretty, inviting.

He gulped.

At that point Peter wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed that he was wearing a mask. Because if he wasn't, then he would've already done something he might regret—or not—later on, especially with the consequences that would come with it.

But when you opened your mouth to start to speak, that's when Peter grew even more nervous on what could possibly be running in your thoughts.

Did you figure it out?

You didn't get a chance to say whatever it was you wanted to say when all movements stopped, Peter releasing you from his hold right as you felt your feet touch the ground.

"That was mean," you said once you gently pulled away from him. "You said you wouldn't let me go," you added, adjusting your hair and clothes before you shot him a pout.

"I'm sorry, I got a little distracted," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. It was a full on accident, mind preoccupied by all things you that he unconsciously loosened his grip around your waist which in turn, made you slip out of his grasp. "I'll always catch you though."

You pursed your lips at him with a tilt of your head. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you're flirting with me, Spider-Man."

Peter felt the heat rush up to his face in a split second. "I-I'm, uh—"

"Whoa," you cut him off once your eyes landed on the gorgeous city of Manhattan but much farther away and wider as you stood on a much higher building. The tall structures that surrounded the scene seemed like toys with their size, the lights that gleamed looking like little specks of stars floating in the air with the Empire State Building right at the middle of it all. "I haven't seen it this high up before," you said, giving him a swift glance before your eyes were back on the scenery. "It's really beautiful."

"Yeah, very beautiful," Peter sighed, brown orbs never leaving your features, his heart thumping in his chest, loud and fast, each beat all for you.

He walked over to where you were stood until your arms were brushing against each other. You spared him a glance, your smile wide and soft in a way that made his heart grow warm. But then you leaned your head on his shoulder and Peter swore he might as well die from a heart attack. If it were you with the enhanced senses, then you would probably catch him out quickly with how frantic and loud each beat his heart was making.

It wasn't new to him of course. You've always been the affectionate kind. And being your best friend, he's always at the receiving end of those affections.

But tonight feels a little different.

The fact that you feel safe around him without having to see his face, when all you see is Spider-Man, it makes his heart melt. The simple fact that you're comfortable when you're near him, that you can feel that you can trust him is really reassuring in a sense. It's like your heart is already familiar with who he is despite your brain—or your eyes—telling you that the person you're standing with right now is a complete stranger.

It feels really special when looking at it in that perspective, it makes Peter feel special.

Sudden boldness coursing through his bones, Peter snaked an arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in the process. It took every ounce of his superhuman strength to keep his legs upright when you inched closer to his side, a soft breath coming out of you, a satisfied one. His eyes glowed with utmost adoration as it traced your features, from the soft smile playing on your lips to the twinkle in those irises as you kept your gaze on the stunning city in front. It baffles him how his heart quickened it's pace even more, just the sight of you in pure bliss. God he was so in love with you and you don't even have an ounce of clue.

Just say it out loud, tell her.

No, I can't. For her, I can't.

"It's getting late. I should probably head back home," you hummed, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. Peter nodded, arm dropping to your waist as he crouched down a little, just so you could sling an arm around his shoulder. "No dropping me this time," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him teasingly.

Peter laughed with a nod. "Yes ma'am."

The swing back to your apartment building took no time.

Despite wanting to drag the night out a little longer, Peter knew he can't do that to you when your debate was tomorrow, especially among countless papers and homework he knows you need to get to. Plus, he has his own errands he needs to tend to as well. Both of you landed on the ledge smoothly with you laughing at some bad joke he made. Peter helped you down like the gentle man that he is and giving your hand one last squeeze before he lets it go.

"Thank you for tonight," you said as you turned to his figure that remained standing on the ledge. Nothing but a wide, genuine smile played on your lips as you added, "Everything of tonight."

"Don't mention it," Peter said sweetly. "I had a really great time with you—shit. I hope that doesn't sound creepy or anything but I really did enjoy tonight, you know, our conversation, getting close with you and feeling you close to me while we were swinging...okay, I'll stop talking."

You let out the sweetest giggle that Peter could do nothing but swoon, his eyes softening as he tilted his head at you with the most adoring smile he could ever have the pleasure of wearing.

"I had a great time being close with you, too," you hummed, holding his gaze for a moment before you casted your eyes at the ground shyly. Shifting from your heels and toes, you pointed towards the rooftop door, before timidly meeting his eyes again. "I should probably—"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Peter chuckled, shooting you a curt nod. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Spider-Man," you said, swiftly turning around as you went towards the door, giving him one last glance over your shoulder when you pulled it open. He gave you a wave in response, your smile widening before you slipped inside and closed the door right behind you.

Peter had the stupidest, most shit-eating grin on his face that he don't think he could ever wipe off, eyes fluttering close as he spread his arms wide. With a satisfied breath, he slowly leaned backwards, letting gravity take its course as pure euphoria coated every fiber of his being.

Never has he ever felt such joy, freedom and utmost content as Peter lets himself fall.

***

"Hello there."

Peter looked up from his notes only to be met by a set of green eyes, completely taking him by surprise since it wasn't the pair of orbs he was expecting—and really excited—to see. It confused him to the core as to why one of the most popular girls on campus was sitting down right in front of him in the library.

"Hi?" he said, word coming out more as a question than a statement as he furrowed his brows.

"Peter right? Marjorie," she introduced, hand coming across the table to which he shook gingerly.

"Yeah, that's me." Peter smiled shyly, the crease on his forehead deepening the more he raked his brain as to why she's talking to him in the first place. Of course he knows who she is, the whole school does. Hell, he can already hear the whispers of gossip echoing about all because she's sitting right at his table, or as a matter of fact, simply because she's in the room. That's how big of a deal she is.

Marjorie moved forward, both her arms resting on the table with her bust right on top of it, the low cut top she wore doing so little to hide it, cleavage right up his face. Peter was quick to look away with a clear of his throat, eyes trained on his notes as a blush coated his cheeks.

She suddenly brought two fingers under his chin, prompting him to look back up. "Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you pretty boy," she purred, a sly smirk growing on her lips when his blush deepened. She inched closer until she was fully leaning over the table and into his space, her thumb running across his chin teasingly. Peter's eyes grew wide in downright surprise and confusion, keeping his gaze locked with hers and never looking anywhere else—mostly not looking down—as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Anyway, I heard you're really smart and I happen to find you really cute too. Not just a pretty face, aren't you Peter. So, I was wondering—"

Peter could feel you coming, hear you even, that all too familiar sound of your giddy and specifically patterned footsteps ringing in his ears. And dare he say it, he could smell your shampoo, the scent gradually growing stronger which was a clear indication that you were getting closer to the library.

He was left downright confused when you only stopped at the door, your heartbeat quickening by a mile as you stilled. Peter grew worried at the uneven sound of your breathing, all shallow and labored, the first thing that happens whenever you're in slight panic. He removed his eyes briefly from the girl across him only to see you turn on your heel in one swift motion and then completely disappearing from sight.

What was wrong? Where were you going?

"I, uh, I'm really sorry but I need to go." Peter quickly pulled his face away from Marjorie's hand, standing up from his seat all while shoving his things in his backpack. "I-It was nice meeting you," he said with a small smile before he sprinted towards the door.

He didn't see you anywhere near the building, didn't see you anywhere on campus at all.

It worried him even more when you ignored his texts and calls for the rest of the day. He knew your schedule but somehow, the moment he reached your class, you were already gone. Or maybe you hadn't even attended class in the first place. There was no other way of him knowing your whereabouts and he was growing really concerned by the second as to what had happened. So, he went with the last option he could think of on finding you quicker.

Peter slipped his mask on with a sigh, the sun already going down when he decided to try and pay you a visit in a very different set of clothes.

***

"Hi."

"What the fu—" You jumped with a yelp as you swiftly turned to face him, hand over your chest to try and calm your heart as you gaped at his masked face. "What are you doing here?"

Three times he's passed your apartment building and you weren't home. But by the fourth try, Peter's worry could only grow some more when he saw you out on the rooftop. You never stay out on the rooftop unless something was deeply bothering you.

"Wanted to know how the debate went," Peter reasoned, not the main agenda but it wasn't entirely a lie either.

"Well, my team won so that's great," you sighed dejectedly, leaning down to rest your elbow on the ledge while your chin landed on your palm.

"You don't seem enthusiastic? You still don't think I'm a friend?"

"No, no, I do now. It's just things in here." You tapped your temple, letting out another sigh when you brought your finger down to your chest, right where your heart is supposed to be and added, "Or in here rather."

Peter frowned. "What's up?"

"Who knew Spider-Man was into gossip," you teased, turning to flash him a small smile.

"Just curios," he hummed with a casual shrugged, settling himself down on the ledge, facing you this time around. "Besides, it's always better to let it out."

"It's just boy problems," you breathed out, eyes back on the orange tinted sky.

Peter felt a lump grow in his throat, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of you thinking about another guy. He was quick to scold himself, telling his mind not to be selfish as he cleared his throat.

"Hit me."

"Well, there's this boy I like—" you stopped yourself, lips pursed as you started to fidget with your fingers, thinking face that Peter knows so well now in full play. "Actually no, I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember," you admitted.

The ache in Peter's heart grew sharper, painful and overwhelming that he felt his body run cold. His throat grew dry that he could do nothing but nod his head with a hum to tell you he's still following.

"He's amazing, greatest guy I've ever had the pleasure of knowing and he has never failed to show that he cares about me. He's always there for me, whenever he can anyway with his hectic life. And he makes me really happy." A love-struck smile grew on your lips, eyes glowing with adoration, face holding that look of love as you bask in the sunset. The golden glow made you look even more stunning, but Peter wasn't able to fully appreciate your beauty when his mind was too preoccupied with jealous thoughts. But a second later, the joy that's coated your features slowly faded off, now replaced by one with worry.

Peter tried his best to keep his tone steady. Despite having the voice modulator on, he knows it will pick up even the slightest shake and uncertainty. "But?"

"I truly can't figure out if he's acting the way he is because he feels the same way or all of it is just an act of friendship," you paused, taking in a deep breath as you shifted on your feet. "There are moments where I do think it's more but then there are moments where I see him with another girl and I start questioning it again. Like, am I reading things wrong? Am I getting too ahead of myself by thinking he could possibly feel the same way?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. "I don't even know how to convey my own feelings—"

"You could just tell him," Peter blurted to cut you off, not wanting to hear any more as the piercing pain in his chest could only deepen the more you talk about it. He's already got the drift anyway, no need for you to explain any further.

You turned to look at him fully with furrowed brows. "Just like that?"

Peter nodded. "You are an amazing girl Y/N," he said, nothing but utmost sincerity coating his voice. He just wants you to find someone who's going to make you happy and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seems like you've found exactly that, who was he to take that away from you by being bitter? Besides, Peter has long accepted that that someone is never going to be him. "Whoever this guy you're in love with, he's pretty lucky. If he doesn't see that then it's his loss. And if he doesn't feel the same way, then he's not the right guy for you because you deserve someone who'll love you unconditionally."

"You giving out relationship advice now too? A sideline if you're not saving the world?" you joked, only earning a shrug and a soft laugh from him. "But thank you." You flashed him a small but grateful smile.

"Always happy to help," he said. "I better get going, got a city to look after." Peter forced a smile, a useless tactic given that there was no way for you to see it anyway. He stood up to his full height before adding, "Congrats on the debate." He didn't even wait for a response when he swiftly jumped and swung as far away from your building as possible.

The second he landed on top of an abandoned warehouse, Peter immediately pulled his mask off. He couldn’t bear to leave it on a second longer or else he was going to suffocate. Sharp breaths escaped him as his back hit the brick wall, eyes screwed shut to stop any tear from slipping out of his burning eyes. He tried his hardest to calm his frantic heart, to minimize the pain by shoving his selfish thoughts away. He forced himself to think about you and your well-being instead, tried to convince himself that this was a good thing.

He doesn't doubt that this guy you're smitten with is a great one. The way you speak about him just screams it. Add that to you being great at judging character, then he knows you're in good hands. Despite it hurting like a ton of punches in the chest, Peter still hoped that whoever this guy is, he'll catch you in his arms openly and shower you with the truest love because you deserve nothing but. The pain would be worth it if he gets to see you be happy.

Peter knows that whoever this guy is, he would treat you rightly, give you everything you want and need in a way that Peter never could.

Slowly opening his eyes, he lets out a calming breath, mind slowly slipping at ease the more he thinks about how happy, content and safe you'll be with this guy if ever it will work out.

It hurts, unbearably, but his sliver of pain in exchange for your utmost happiness? Then Peter will gladly endure it.

***

The next day, Saturday noon, was when you finally decided to answer Peter's texts from the day before. You apologized for ghosting him, said you got preoccupied and left it at that. And then you asked if he wanted to go for a little stroll in the park, too make it up to him. Peter could never say no to you so here you were, side by side under the afternoon sun, aimlessly walking around a nearly deserted park outskirts of the main city.

"Why'd you disappear yesterday?" he asked, both his hands in his pockets while yours were looped in his. "I saw you stop by at the library but you didn't come and say hi."

You shrugged, eyes trained on the pavement as you kicked at the few rocks that were lying around. "Something came up," you simply said.

Peter can't help but feel a little sting when you didn't elaborate further. Well, he already knew what had happened but that was as Spider-Man. He was hoping you'd tell him too, as Peter Parker, your long time best friend.

"Thank you for the email by the way," you spoke again when he stayed quiet, lifting your head up to spare him a bright smile. "We wouldn't have won the debate if it wasn't for you."

"Winning the debate was all on you and that incredible brain of yours. I'm not going to take credit for that," he chuckled as he shot you a knowing look. Eyes back in front, Peter added, "But I'm always here to help. That's what best friends are for."

You hummed, letting go of his arm as you skipped ahead and treaded towards the nearest tree. "What's up with you and Marjorie?" you asked, settling down on the grass, legs straight with your right ankle over you left as you leaned back against the trunk comfortably.

"What's up with what?" Peter followed you with a deep crease between his brows, sitting right beside you soon after, mirroring your position under the shade.

"You tell me, you were almost kissing when I saw you in the library so," you trailed off, picking at the shreds of greenery, throwing it purposelessly as you still avoided his gaze. "Are you two a thing now?"

Peter shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "First off, we were not almost kissing and second, no, we're not a thing," he clarified, head turned for him to see you clearly. "I didn't even get to hear what she wanted because I immediately left," he chuckled.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You bailed on her in the library?"

"Sort of?" Peter scrunched his nose.

"That's a very bold move, Parker," you giggled, bumping your shoulder with his teasingly. "Most guys would've died to just be in the same room as her."

Peter let out a hearty laugh, shrugging his shoulders and said, "Well, I guess I'm not like most guys."

Marjorie was pretty, Peter won't deny that, but she could never amount to you. Even right now, when you're just sitting beside him in casual jeans and sweater, a simple but very charming smile on your lips as you looked up at the clouds, Peter was already swooning ten times over. Then comes the memory of you looking so breathtaking while he took you around the city. The stunning glow on your face as you stared at the scene in awe was still deeply engraved in Peter's mind, and he knows for a fact that that image will never leave him. Not that he was complaining anyway.

"So, how did your meeting with Spider-Man go?" he asked after a few moments of silence. A shy smile slowly grew on your lips, one that made Peter lift a brow at you in suspicion.

"He's really cool," you breathed out, your grin growing wider as you kept your gaze steadily trained at the blue sky. "He's a gentleman too, a little shy and awkward but in a cute way. Plus, very wise and smart, like lived-a-life wise and genius smart. He then took me to swing around the city which was awesome," you gushed, a dreamy glow coating your face as you met Peter's eyes. "That night is going to be a night I'll remember for the rest of my life for sure."

Peter couldn't help the smug grin that grew on his face. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you have a crush on Spider-Man," he teased, wriggling his brows at you.

"Shut up," you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

"It's obvious. You have that dreamy look on your face when you talk about him," he poked even more, nudging you with his elbow playfully.

"No, I don't," you laughed as you pushed him away. "Besides, I've got my eyes on someone else already."

Peter's heart sunk.

He found himself playing with the sleeves of his hoodie as he avoided your gaze, trying his hardest to keep his feelings at bay before you'd notice the change in his demeanor. "Care to share with your best friend?" he offered, wondering if you're finally willing to tell him about this mystery guy.

You stayed quiet, eyes fluttering close as you rested your head on his shoulder. Peter kept his gaze steady on you, everything else silent aside from the sound of the rustling leaves of the tree. But then you let out a nervous breath, heartbeat picking up the pace in a way that made Peter grow curious as to what's on your mind.

"I love you," you blurted out of the blue, a slight shake in your voice as you kept your eyes shut.

Although confused, Peter responded, "I love you too—"

"No, Peter," you paused, shifting in your place, pulling away from him as you sat up straighter. You finally met his brown orbs, all while countless of emotions swam in yours. "I love you," you whispered but with your voice firm and laced with pure sincerity, eyes holding his with such intensity that he quickly understood.

Peter stared at you in shock.

Slowly, but surely, everything started to click inside his head. The confession you shared with Spider-Man. When you said you'd seen this guy with another girl...the library. Was that why you quickly ran out? When you saw...almost kissing. Was that the reason why your heart suddenly grew at panic?

The guy you were gushing about so fondly, the same one you said you were in love with for a long time now, the one Peter was growing jealous of...it was him.

You were talking about him, Peter Parker.

He grew at a loss for words as he gawked at you, a smile growing on his lips as he felt his heart stop its course and then beat again but with twice the pace. Peter was so happy, over the universe as pure warmth filled him up from head to toe. The mere thought that you felt the same, it was too good to be true. But it was, he can see it clear in your eyes, it was real.

You love him.

But then his mood was quick to shift, smile slipping off his face, the warmth and joy that coated his bones replaced by fear and worry in a snap of a finger.

Peter's heart stopped at the sight in front of him.

You were getting held at knifepoint by the throat, tears brimming in your eyes, more of it coating your cheeks as you clawed at the arm that trapped you in their vise hold.

"P-Peter, I love you," you whimpered, gaze locking with his, hope slipping out of your orbs, the glow they once held getting dimmer by the second in a way that made a shiver run down his spine. Then Peter heard it, that piercing cackle he knew too well, his brown eyes meeting the yellow ones that glowed right behind you.

"You won't be able to save the love of your life, Spider-Man...or should I say, Peter Parker!"

Peter shook his head frantically as he yelled out your name, running at full speed to get to you only to be met by sudden darkness, your heart wrenching scream ringing in his ears followed by an agonizing sound of a body hitting the floor. Peter's blood ran cold as he frantically called out your name, over and over and over yet nothing but eerie silence echoed back at him.

And then he looked down, eyes landing on his trembling hands, each finger, both palms coated with blood, your blood.

You were gone.

"No, no, no," Peter rushed, voice quivering, hastily getting up on his feet as he looked at you worryingly. "You can't, Y/N. You can't love me."

It's not safe for you to love me.

The look of pure pain that ghosted over you features squeezed at Peter's heart, the pit in his stomach ever growing the more he thought of what he was about to do.

You stood up shakily to be level with him, deep frown on your lips, confusion and hurt swimming in your eyes as you asked, "Why'd you seem disgusted? You could just say you don't feel the same way."

"N-No, it's not that, neither of that because—" he sucked in a sharp breath, a hand running through his hair as he stared into your eyes longingly. "I do feel the same way about you."

You screwed your eyes shut as you shook your head. "Please don't lie to make me feel better, Peter," you pleaded, the break in your voice a sharp stab at his chest.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Peter internally winced at his bold and very false claim. Nothing but guilt filled his stomach given that he lies to you almost every day. He lies to you about his whereabouts, lies to you about his reasons. Peter lies to you every goddamn day by not telling you he's Spider-Man.

"Then why are your actions speaking something else then?" You gestured towards him as a whole, at the obvious distance that he's put between you two. Your eyes were slowly glossing up as you tried to simply understand what was going on.

Peter sighed, "I just don't want to hurt you okay? I—I don't want you to lose faith on the things you love because of me."

I don't want you to lose your life because of me.

"You're not making any sense," you said frustratedly.

"I'm not qualified to be a good boyfriend, Y/N. I won't be there with you all the time. I'd probably cancel on you on so many dates," Peter paused, meeting your eyes so you could see where he was coming from. "Hell, how many times have I bailed on you right now as your best friend huh? The amount of times I've left you on the street to go home alone?"

Your frown deepened as you held his eyes with nothing but sadness. "You had things going on Peter. You're being really unfair on yourself," you said.

"But you still don't deserve to be treated like that. Not now, not ever, no matter the reason," he pushed. "You deserve all those romantic clichés you're always dreaming of, you deserve to be treated like the queen that you are. You deserve the whole world Y/N, but I won't be able to give you that." Peter's voice broke, eyes holding too many emotions as he kept his gaze steady with yours. A painful task with all the pain and betrayal that's coated your eyes, utmost hurt glaring right at him. "Being with me won't be a fairytale."

Peter wasn't ignorant to the fact that you were a hopeless romantic. The countless rom-coms you've watched together have long ago proved that. The specific look in your eyes, that certain glimmer that washes over your face whenever the couple would kiss under the snow or even in the rain, or whenever they'd go on romantic walks on the beach or simply be in each other's arm whenever it's needed, Peter has memorized it. The little changes in your face whenever you see those clichés, he knows it like the back of his hand, knows how you're craving that kind of simple but true love.

But Peter can't give you any of that. Not right now.

"But I don't want a fairytale. I want to be with you. I don't care if we don't get to do any romantic clichés, being with you would surpass all of that, being with you would be more than enough. And I'm willing to try and make it work with whatever you've got going on, even if I have to make sacrifices in the process. Why can't you see that Peter?" you argued, hands clenched into fists on your sides in mere frustration.

Peter winced, the word sacrifice too heavy for him to hear. It was too painful to even fathom what you would possibly sacrifice for him, that you would probably even sacrifice all of it for him, including your life.

"No, no, please don't," he begged. "I don't want you to sacrifice anything for me. I would never want you to sacrifice those little things that make you smile. I don't want you to sacrifice your happiness for me." Peter shook his head in utter distress, palm rubbing at his face harshly that had the tip of his nose turn red. "And what happens then if it doesn't work? You'll only get disappointed. You'll only end up hating me. By then, I would have already put you through so much hurt all for nothing. I don't want that for you, Y/N."

"How'd you know that when you haven't even tried?" you whispered, bottom lip trembling. "It's like you're not even willing to try," you whimpered.

The second Peter saw the single tear that ran down your cheek he instinctively moved closer, hands reaching out, desperate to hold you, to get to tell you it's going to be alright, to apologize over and over for all the pain he has caused. But you stopped him with the palm of your hand. He felt his heart drop the moment you took a step back, shaking your head, bottom lip desperately caught between your teeth to silence your sobs.

Peter nodded gravely, his arms falling limp by his sides, fully understanding that you don't want him near. He doesn't blame you by one bit. "It's not that I'm not willing to, I just," he paused as he let out a shaky breath. "I don't trust myself to be with you. I don't trust myself with your heart because I know I will only end up breaking it. I'll only let you down." I don't trust myself to keep you safe from harm. I'll only fail you just like how I failed them. Peter confessed, brown orbs turning glossy, all from a mixture of pain and anger. He was so angry at himself for putting you through all this hurt, you don't deserve it, not even a single ounce of it.

Yes, he can try, see where this will go and do his best to be there for you at all times. But that's not set on stone, never a clear promise because he doesn't know what his tomorrow is going to bring. He doesn't know if he's staying in the neighborhood one minute and then entering another dimension the next. Being Spider-Man, he doesn't have a schedule where Peter can organize things as a matter of priority, being Spider-Man requires its own sets of sacrifices. Peter doesn't want you to feel the burden of those sacrifices, too.

He doesn't doubt that you would be understanding enough with whatever it is he has going on but that's exactly the problem. He knows you'll take the bare minimum, you'll put him first above your wants and needs. You're just too kind that way, too big of a heart. But Peter can't have that because it's just not right; it's not what you should settle for. You deserve all the dates, all the romantic walks, all the cuddles and kisses whenever you're down, all the stress free nights where you don't have to worry about him or wait for him to come back to you safe and unharmed, all the time and effort, you deserve all of it and more.

And right now, Peter can't give you what you deserve.

"Or maybe you just don't love me in the way you say you do," you accused, voice soft but the sting in it sharp.

"That's not fucking true because I love you with every ounce of my being," he protested in low growl, desperately tugging at his hair, frustrated that he can't tell you his full reasons as to why exactly he can't be with you. "I love you too much and I want to be with you so badly—"

"Then why is that not enough?" you stressed.

"You don't understand—"

"Then make me understand!" you snapped, tears running freely down your face as you looked at him with utmost despair.

"It's not that fucking simple Y/N!" Peter saw you flinch at the sudden boom of his voice, his heart cracking at the sight. He felt everything in him gradually break the more you stared at him with nothing but anguish. He took in a deep breath to calm himself before he slips out any words that he'll only regret later on. Blowing out his cheeks, he croaked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just—"

Peter tried again and walked closer to you, trembling hands slowly reaching in mere need to feel your skin on his to ground him back, relief washing over him when you let him. He felt his heart warm up a little when you didn't pull away from his touch. But the broken sob you let out when he cupped your face, it was too excruciating for him to hear. The agonizing grip on Peter's heart tightened as he stared right into your eyes, the same ones that once held so much joy but was now flooded with tears and grief, their gorgeous glow snuffed out, all because of him.

"I'm just trying to protect you, please, trust me on that," he whispered, not even trying to hide the brokenness in his voice anymore, not even trying to hold back his tears as Peter pressed his forehead against yours.

The little droplets fell down on your face, his tears joining yours on your already damp skin. His thumb oh so tenderly tried to wipe them all away, wishing that it was as easy as that to ease up your pain, to take away your hurt so simply, but he knows it wasn't. It wasn't an easy choice and Peter knows it never will be.

"I love you so much, don't you ever, ever doubt that. B-But we can't. I'm really sorry Y/N, but we can't be together. I-I know this hurts right now, trust me, I know, but I will only make it much worse," he choked, shaking his head when you leaned into his palm with a broken breath. But you kept your eyes open, held his gaze with utter strength and Peter saw it, saw how you still looked at him with love in your eyes. Despite it being mixed with pain, it was there, clear and honest. God he did not fucking deserve you at all.

"You deserve someone who'd treat you the way you deserve to be treated, someone who'd truly show you how it feels to be loved completely and not just the bare minimum. You deserve someone who'd be so much better than me." Peter's voice broke at the end of his sentence, eyes still holding yours just so you could see the other things he can't put into words, the things he couldn't say aloud. He was desperately, silently pleading that you would see right through him, so you could understand why he has to do this. "Maybe in another life, we could make this work. But right now I'm asking, begging you not to love me, because I don't deserve that love, I don't deserve you at all."

Peter practically saw your heart shatter into pieces even more with the simple look in your eyes. It's an absolute torture to look into them right now, to see you be so broken that he found himself wishing that it was only him in pain instead. Even though the thought hurts, he wished you didn't love him. Even though it would be painful to endure, to live in a world where his feelings aren't reciprocated, Peter wished you didn't love him at all if it meant it was going to save you from heartbreak.

Better him in pain than you, always.

Breath unsteady, you closed your eyes with a small nod. "I guess this is it," you sniffled, placing your hands over his, your touch tender as you gave it a squeeze. But then you pulled it away from your face, Peter's hands slipping off your skin as you put some much needed distance between you two.

"Y/N—"

"I don't think we can go back to the way things were after this Peter. I'm sorry I just—I don't think I can handle it." You shook your head with a soft cry, forcing yourself to look back into those brown orbs as you whispered, "I can’t take it."

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes casted on the grass with a solemn nod as he croaked out, "Then I guess this is it."

"Goodbye, Peter."

He screwed his eyes shut at the sound of your broken voice, the heartbreaking sob that followed soon after made him let out a shaky breath. The sound of your footsteps felt like gunshots, each step taken like a bullet wounding him deep but Peter didn't dare to respond, didn't even dare to look up as you briskly walked away.

Peter had to keep his head down because he didn't have enough strength, didn't have the sense of control to stay still in his place. He knows that if he does as much as look up and catch your figure, he'll run after you, full speed. He'll pull you back into his arms; he'll pour all his love into one kiss as he holds you tightly. He'll keep you in his embrace for eternity the moment he gives in into his selfish needs. But he shouldn't. He needs to let you go, he has to let you walk away, for your sake.

The farther the sound of your footsteps got, the tighter his fists grew, fingernails digging into his palms as his breathing became labored, harsh. Peter swiftly turned around and took a hard swing at the tree once you were gone, glad that no one was around to see the whole thing shake from his strength. The bark cracked under his knuckle, leaves falling around him just as his knees gave out. A sharp, broken, frustrated scream escaped his lips as he buried his face in his hands, body shaking with all the anger and pain, trembling from his heart wrenching sobs.

Peter felt like his lungs were about to give out, emotions overflowing and scorching all while feeling numb just the same. But he kept reminding himself why he's doing this for him to get by, kept telling himself that being far apart was for the best.

For your sake.

***

The wind was cold on your face as you stood out on the rooftop to escape. The night breeze was slowly drying up your tears, much to no use since it's replaced by fresh ones the second after anyway. You don't know how long you've been crying for, but it wouldn't really matter. Your tears could run out but the pain in your heart could only deepen with each ticking second.

You were worried, angry, hurt, frustrated and confused all the same, unable to tie everything together as it all just seemed like a whole jumbled mess in your head, an incomplete puzzle.

You're not naïve to think that there wasn't more to this than he's letting on. You know he was hiding bits and pieces, his words completely restrained. You saw it in his eyes how he was battling his mind. You saw how he was struggling to not slip out whatever it was he was holding back. It was painful, all of it, from seeing him so distressed to him breaking your heart with his care-filled yet hurtful words.

You get where he's coming from, about wanting you to experience it all and more and not just the bare minimum. If it was a different circumstance, the things he said would've been sweet, how he wants you to have the world, how he wants you to live all those clichés just so he could see you smile, see you be happy. But right now, his words just felt bittersweet since you lost him in the process.

All those days of imagining all the different scenarios on what it would look like, how it would feel when he admits he feels the same way, not once did you ever expect that Peter Parker saying he loves you would feel like a knife to the heart.

What hurts even more is the fact that he is so keen on shutting any chance, and sliver of hope down. He won't even try, like you're not worth any risks at all. It makes you question how important you actually are to him, makes you question if he really does love you in the way he claims he does.

"Ahem."

"Shit!" you squeaked, head snapping towards the squatted figure, eyes landing on the familiar masked man who seemed to like the element of surprise. "You need to stop doing that!"

"Sorry, should've given you a heads up," he apologized, voice sounding a little hoarse, a little...different.

"No shit," you grumbled, hastily wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your sweater before you turned back to face him. "What's brought you here?"

"Was just in the neighborhood, saw you out here and I thought I'd swing by," he said with a casual shrug, gaze steady on the building across. You did just the same as you turned back in front, fingers drumming on the concrete ledge as you stood in silence for a couple minutes, his company soothing in some odd way. But you welcome it, makes you feel more present, stopping you from slipping neck deep into the chaos that's in your head.

"You okay? You seem a bit down," he said, voice still a little gruff, eyes everywhere else but at you.

"Well, I guess you can say that," you breathed out.

"Want to talk about it?"

You bit your bottom lip when it started to tremble, a fresh batch of tears brimming in your eyes. "I told him," you whispered. "You know that friend I talked to you about? I told him I'm in love with him and he wasn't too happy with it. He pushed me away, I—" You shook your head with a shaky breath, eyes now trained on the busy street below. You swallowed the lump in your throat before adding, "He said he loved me but he pushed me away."

The superhero beside you cleared out his throat, shifting in his place until he was fully seated down, his legs hanging off the side of the building. "Did he tell you why?"

"He said he wouldn't be a good boyfriend and that he won't be there for me when I need him. He said I deserved better, which doesn't make any sense because he's already been doing that, being there for me. And I have no doubt he'd treat me rightly but he doesn't seem to believe that himself," you whimpered, harshly wiping away the tears that rushed out your eyes, not wanting to seem pathetic for a boy, not to seem weak in front of the masked hero.

"Hey, you don't have to act all tough for me," he reassured, hand coming up to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze for a short but sweet moment. "It's okay to cry, it doesn't mean you're weak."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding, flashing him a sad smile for a second before you stared back at the city. "And I get he's got a lot going on, I do too but what's painful is that he's not even willing to try and see if it would work or not. It hurts to think that I'm willing to try and make ends meet, that I would do anything to be with him, but he won't do the same for me. It makes me feel like I'm not worth fighting for, that I'm not enough."

"That's not true, Y/N," he whispered, almost as if didn't want you to hear it, your brows furrowing a little as you spared him a glance. He was already looking at you but the second your eyes landed on his face, he swiftly looked away. "What else did he say?" he asked swiftly, voice louder with a clear of his throat.

"He said he can't be with me because he didn't want to hurt me which sounds so fucking stupid since he's hurting me now. Really badly," you whimpered, bottom lip quivering as you screwed your eyes shut, taking in deep calming breaths, steadying yourself before you opened them again.

"Maybe he is just trying to look out for you," he started, head tilted to the side as he looked at you with a shaky breath. "Sometimes the best way to protect someone is to keep them at a safe distance, to not get too close to them, both physically but mostly emotionally."

You frowned, gaze landing back on the white fabric that's covered his eyes. "You do that too? Push people away?"

"I don't want to but I have to," he sighed, looking down at his hands like they were too heavy, like they hold so much weight over his life, caused him so much trouble and pain. He stared at them for a few seconds more before his fingers started to pick at his web shooters. "It's the best way to keep the people I care about safe."

"Because of all the bad guys chasing after you?"

He let out a soft chuckle as he nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

You turned to face him fully, deep frown still etched on your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest. "Does that not get lonely?"

"It does." He nodded dejectedly, his eyes still looking elsewhere. "But it's better than seeing the ones I love get hurt because of the sole reason that they love me and that I love them just as much, if not more. Once they find out who I am, they're going to use that against me. They will always use that against me." The pain and hurt that coated his voice in his last sentence, you heard it loud and clear, makes you wonder what hardships he could've gone through to feel this way. "I think it's best to keep them away from this side of my world. I admit, it's really hard for me to stay away but I just keep reminding myself that all I'm doing is trying to keep them safe as much as I can," he paused, turning his head to finally look at you and you felt your heart stop at his next set of words.

"I'm just trying to protect them."

You felt as though that the clouds cleared up above your head, the puzzle pieces falling into place, completing itself as you slowly and finally tied everything together.

All those times he's suddenly in a rush to leave with a half-assed reason, the times where you'd catch a glimpse of the random cuts and bruises he had on his body, it all became so clear. And the night you first met Spider-Man, that odd feeling you had when he squeezed your hand the first time, it finally made sense. That same night, you felt as though you were crazy when you found yourself gravitating towards a complete stranger, a masked superhero at that. You found it ridiculous how you felt like you could trust him right off the bat. When you felt a vast feeling of being safe around him in so little time, initially you told yourself that it wasn't a good thing, that it was dangerous and you should tread carefully, but now the feeling just felt awfully familiar.

That's when you fully understood everything. The knots in your head gradually untangled itself as you gawked at him, mouth slightly agape in pure shock, tears welling up in your eyes for a different reason this time. All the things he's been through, all the pain and grief from the people he's lost, the weight that the world has put on his shoulders, it made your heartbreak. It made you feel so guilty that you weren't there for him through all that.

A new found weight settled itself in your chest because as you stared right at the mask, you saw him.

"Well, I need to go. You know, got a city to look after," he chuckled shyly as he looked away, his voice sounding starkly different from the previous encounters as it now held a sense of familiarity. "See you later."

With that, he jumped off, your eyes following the red in blue under the night sky, gradually getting smaller until disappearing from sight.

You smiled, a small one, didn't quite reach your ears but it was genuine. Your heart was still aching, mostly for him than for you, but it was also now filled with the greatest pride as you whispered, just under your breath,

"See you later, Peter Parker."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your thoughts! <3

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega @badreputatiom @fallinfortom @disneysamara @avengersficwriter @musicalkeys @apatheticanvas67482 @camimndess @tom-hlover @jjandreidsgirl @caramelscoffee @thenoddingbunny-blog @t-lostinworlds @sarcasticallywitty15 @call-me-baby-gir1 @miraclesoflove @tanakaslastbraincell @itstaskeen ♛ Peter P. Taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @darlingspidey @namoreno @keepingupwiththehollands @quaksonhehe @big-galaxy-chaos @clara-licht @dummiesshort @geminiparkers @parker-hollandx @rebekkah4766 @iwannabekilledtwice @prettyintopeerpressure @spideyspeaches @givebuckyhisplumsnow @asoftie4bucky @dandelionxgal @peterspideysstuff @zspideyy @sluttytears || @kelieah​

just let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist! <3

[moosoobi]

Battle Royale

(1) Fresh bread, French Prince

G.Lafayette : Hamilton the musical

Sometimes when you work on a project, there are moments when you need to take a break and work on something else. That’s really the case with In The Night, I have all these ideas but sometimes I feel confined to ITN (I literally have not started Chapter 3 when this is posted). And thus this fic was born. I hope you enjoy! 

Y/N and Lafayette’s POV 

Bridgerton inspired AU (watching the Bridgerton series would probably help in understanding ideas of ‘courting’ and finding a suitors) 

Odd social structure (dukes are essentially owners of land which was popularized in London, Washington is considered a president, and Lafayette is now a prince!) 

not my cover image 😟

Word count: 4k

Literally the biggest thanks to @deja-you for proofreading and some great feedback, ILY 🧎‍♀️

—-the Washington residence

The dreamy clouds would stream across the sky as Y/N began to read the newest article from Thomas Paine, the most notorious writer known for acknowledging every piece of gossip and whispers among the noble colonists. 

The pamphlet felt newly written, as few spots of the odd-smelling ink would smudge. Though Y/N was not awake, a young boy delivered this meticulous pamphlet to the Washington residence before dawn. 

As the daughter of the president, being the center of noble gossip was nothing new to her, in fact, gossip was never the center of her attention either. But something about this pamphlet in particular would surely catch her eye. 

She began to read:

‘The scene for this courting season is looking quite interesting. Now that these young ladies are finally of age, they will indeed add competition to the scene.’

Ah yes, the annual  courting season. A time for women and men to make their move and commence into the adult world. While many aren’t satisfied with their partners, reputation seems to grow higher than feelings. 

‘Many pertinent names are included in this season, and I’m honored to document the presence of these people.’ 

‘The Schuylers: all three of the incredible General Schuyler’s daughters are finally entering the courting scene simultaneously. During the war, many soldier boys would fall head over heels to impress them, and many were unsuccessful. I’m ecstatic to observe the lucky men to take the hand of Angelica, Elizabeth, and Peggy Schuyler.’ 

‘The Payne’s: Miss Dolley Payne has finally been granted entrance into this courting season. Many theories and speculation suggest that her arrival to the scene at the same time as the other great names was not a coincidence.’ 

‘And finally, the most significant family joining us this season,’ 

Y/N sucked in a breath 

‘The Washington’s: His grace’s pride and joy, Y/N, will be the most imperative competition this season. The pressure of being the president’s daughter, as well as the stigma of conceiving an heir, follow her wherever she resides. Nonetheless, Y/N Washington is an extraordinary star among the courting scene, and it would indeed be foolish to throw away your shot.’ 

‘It’s just common sense.’ 

‘-Thomas Paine’ 

It would take Y/N a couple moments before her squeals of excitement could be heard across the residence 

Shortly after, the rumbles of Y/N racing down the stairs would cause her parents, George and Martha, to take suspicious glances at each other. Y/N finally reached the dinner table where her parents were finishing up their morning tea. 

“What’s got you going so early, dear? I usually have to pull you out of bed around this time,” Martha questioned 

“Sir Payne wrote about me in the paper! My entrance to the courting scene seems to be the most glittering cluster of ink in this pamphlet” She squealed 

Y/N excitedly, yet also harshly, slid the pamphlet over to her parents, moments later they would observe her words to be true 

“That’s great, dear” Her father, George, looked up from the paper with a smile. “I know you’ll represent the Washington Family name well, although it’s a shame you’ll have to lose it when you get married” he sighed 

“Oh lighten up George, Y/N will be the talk of the town, I’m sure she’ll attract some worthy gentleman” 

“Damn right he better be worthy.” His eyes transferred from Martha to Y/N 

“Remember Y/N, very few are prepared to handle a Washington, you can even ask your mother.” 

Y/N couldn’t hold in a giggle as Martha rolled her eyes. Both Y/N and George watched as Martha arose to place her porcelain dishes in the sink

“Well I must be soo blessed to have to take care of two of them.” 

George turned back to Y/N and slid her a letter across the table, keeping another letter in his opposite hand, which was still unopened

 “May I ask what this is?” She held up the letter. Even the feeling of the paper could tell Y/N that it came from the colonial gentry. The scent faintly reminded Y/N of champagne and flowers, and the seal was a sparkling coral-pink shade. The letter appeared to be already opened 

“The Schuyler’s are inviting you to a small tea get-together, whatever you kids call it.” 

Y/N opened the envelope, searching for the details. How exciting was this, to be among the best of the best, especially in the greatest city in the world. Before she could reply, George began to speak again

“I’ve already requested for two escorts to accompany you on your way to the Schuyler residence.” Y/N turned to him in confusion 

“Huh?” She questioned “escorts?”

“Now that you’re officially in this courting season, your safety could be potentially in danger. I’m just trying to make you comfortable” He retorted 

“Father, I’m sure I’m capable of walking on my own. I mean, the Schuyler residence isn’t even that far and-”

Y/N was interrupted by multiple knocks on her door. She shot a ‘this isn’t over’ glare to her father before wandering over to her front door. She opened the door and found a surprise

The Duke of Monticello and the Duke of Manhattan, my father’s two trusted secretaries. Dropping the formalities, Y/N addressed them by their first name 

“Thomas? Alexander? Don’t tell me..” she turned back to her father. Jefferson and Hamilton stood at the doorway, both with flowers and nervous in the presence of Washington 

“Father, I’m starting to question whether you worry for my safety, or worry for your pickiness of my suitor.” Thomas and Alex attempted to hold in their laughs as if their lives depended on it 

“Of course I do!” He held a hand to his chest as if he was hurt “although I do owe them a favor-” a smirk spread across Thomas’s and Alexander’s face, yet was quickly faded as Washington addressed them 

“But no funny business with my daughter. If I hear of any shenanigans from either one of you, you both have serious consequences.” Y/N turned back to the dukes, both of them appearing drained of color. 

“Let me get dolled up and we can be on our way” Y/N swiftly ran upstairs, leaving Thomas and Alexander alone in the presence of their boss. Those poor, poor, boys

Five minutes later, Y/N glided down the stairs in her fancier skirt. Her corset gave her an amazing shape, and her hair made her appear to be a celestial being. She caught the dukes’ eyes lingering on her for a little too long. Luckily, Washington wasn’t around. “Let’s keep our focus on what’s really matters, guys” she laughed 

“R-right...” they said in unison, both turning away and pretending to be interested in the furniture in the house. Y/N had never seen the two secretaries so calm around each other, it made her realize the power the Washington’s have in the colonies. A simple order from a Washington could probably end wars, especially if it’s capable of making Jefferson and Hamilton contain their pride 

“Your graces?” She held out her hands, signifying that she was ready to depart. The dukes held out their forearm and elbows for her to take. Y/N intertwined her arms into theirs, and they headed for the Schuyler residence.

A few minutes down the path and Alexander Hamilton decided to break the silence 

“I still can’t believe you’re entering this season, Y/N. I mean, I still remember running around those horrid military camps all those years ago” he chuckled. It’s true, it’s been all these years since the war and so much has changed 

“I like to believe I’ve grown into a wonderful, young woman, don’t you think?” I batted my eyelashes towards both of them 

“Of course darlin’” Jefferson cut in “but just because we’re your honorable colleagues doesn’t mean Hamilton and I won’t be lining up for your hand” 

“Don’t be so sure. I heard this season has a few aggressive competitors on both sides. The Schuylers, the Paynes, even the Madisons! I might have to step up my game. In the meantime, both of you have to keep an open mind.” 

Thomas and Hamilton stared at each other, surprised by her response. 

“And If I find out that both of you placed bets on which one of you will earn my hand, I’ll be reminding my father to collect both of your heads.” 

Their heads hung in defeat “alright, alright darlin’ I think I kind of like my head attached to my body. No need to get violent.” 

“Plus I don’t think any of you can truly handle a Washington.” Y/N giggled, her arms still intertwined with theirs

“If Jefferson and I don’t scare away the competition, I’m sure your father will” Alexander chuckled, Thomas visibly reacted to the joke as well 

“Oh come on, the two most popular dukes of the colonies have nothing on a suitor that is truly worthy of me” she scoffed 

“And where would you find such a worthy contestant? Someone better than a duke?” The three stopped in front of the Schuyler residence 

“Don’t kill my hopes, a Washington has her ways” Y/N removed her arms from Thomas’s and Alexander’s, heading for the front door. As soon as she was greeted by General Schuyler herself, she waved goodbye to the clashing dukes 

“She’s so mine, Hamilton.” Thomas stated 

“I’m sure you should be worried about your tomcat nature, Jefferson, don’t get too ahead of yourself” Alex retorted

Jefferson audibly scoffed before wandering with him into the city 

—-France

3 weeks prior to Y/N reading that exciting pamphlet, Marquis de Lafay-- Now Prince Lafayette sat around a table of French nobles and officials. It felt like ages since he’s been in the colonies, and it has only been a few years ever since the French Revolution had ended. Yet instead of abolishing the monarchy system in France as Lafayette promised to the colonies, he and a few other nobles replaced the previous royal family. 

Lafayette was later titled as a Prince, as were other leading men of France, but he urged to continue being addressed as the ‘Hero of two worlds’. 

But with a new era upon the people of France, came the countless government meetings and conflicts that he had to resolve. 

“Your Majesty? Are you even paying attention?” Secretary Robespierre whispered over his shoulder, causing him to visibly straighten himself out. 

“O-Oui. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lafayette laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. Robespierre rolled his eyes before whispering again. 

“This is our last meeting of the day. With all due respect sir, can you get yourself together?” 

“Okay, Okay.” Lafayette sighed with boredom 

He missed the colonies dearly, sometimes he wished he never left at all, but seeing his country yearn for a revolution compelled him to sail across the Atlantic once again. He often daydreamed of his riskier lifestyle with his closest friends and soldiers, as well as the feeling of awe while serving directly under General Washington. Never in his life did Lafayette think he would miss the adrenaline rush of stealing cannons and leading fully arm battalions. 

His teenage memories of fooling around in those military camps, wandering the streets of New York City severely intoxicated, and the best memories of all, the memories of escorting the General’s daughter, Y/N Washington, to buy bread and pastries for him and his fellow soldiers. 

Oh, what could she be doing now? 

If it weren’t for the revolution at hand, Lafayette would’ve surely bent a knee once she set foot onto the military camping grounds. Lafayette held such a high respect for Y/N when they first met, especially since she was the daughter of his most admired general. The women in France just couldn’t compare to her heavenly beauty, and her kindness was unbeatable. She was the greatest treasure that Lafayette had stumbled across during his time in the colonies. Although many noblewomen would attempt to take a bite of him, Lafayette stayed loyal to his non-existent promise to Y/N.

A quick quill-slam to the table, and he was quickly drawn back to his reality. Why should he worry about his previous General’s daughter anyway? Lafayette was now a Prince, he could have anything he wanted. But the moment he set foot in France after the American Revolution, he lost the most precious things he already had. He yearned for glory, but at what cost? The cost of abandoning his bonds in the colonies? 

He sighed, standing from the meeting table and wandering to his quarters. Secretary Robespierre followed closely behind him. Sensing an odd tension from Lafayette’s mood, Robespierre attempted to address his situation

“Do you need anything, your majesty?” Lafayette froze in his tracks, weighing his two options 

“Actually...” Lafayette turned to face him “Schedule me a ship to the colonies. The earliest one you can find.” 

Robespierre tilted his head in confusion, letting the last sentence sizzle in his head.

 “I’m sorry, what?” 

The prince in distress sighed with fatigue. “I’ve decided I’m heading to the colonies, tout suite.” Lafayette kept his gaze strong  

‘B-but sir, you have so much to take care of-” Robespierre was notably panicking at this moment. “-and the recent shortages-”

“Mon Ami, there are at least three other ‘crowned princes’ who are perfectly capable of maintaining this nation. One prince gone won’t hurt the economy”  Prince Lafayette stated firmly 

Robespierre debated for a moment before confirming his thoughts “Alright. I’ll notify you when the earliest ship can be sailed. But what shall you do about the gossip? Perhaps they will believe you are not responsible enough for this role.”  

“Let the people speak as they please. In the end, I’ll remind them who’s in charge.” Lafayette began towards his quarters once again, Robespierre stayed behind to script all of his thoughts. 

Finally in his study, Lafayette dipped his quill into the nearest container of ink and started to write. 

‘To the Great General Washington, It’s been ages since we’ve last written…’

Maybe Lafayette will be able to have a taste of his old life. 

---the Schuyler residence

Giggling echoed throughout the Schuyler residence as the 5 girls enjoyed their tea. 

“Have you gals read Payne’s newest pamphlet? We’re the talk of the town as of now” Angelica, the oldest Schuyler, smiled with satisfaction. Her luminous complexion complemented her coral pink gown. 

“I never expected our courting debut to be so..” Eliza searched for the right words “..turbulent among the talkers..” she took a sip of her tea 

“I’m still stunned by the feedback” Y/N laughed nervously “My father even requested his two most clashing secretaries to escort me here, they didn’t even argue once” she said in awe 

The top 5 girls of the season all sat in one room. Though they would eventually become each other's courting competition, they were great friends nonetheless. During the war, Y/N would stay in the Schuyler household while their fathers were out of town daydreaming of being free from the king, attending a few balls together, and watching soldier boys trip over themselves. After the war ended, Dolley Paine became a mutual connection through their high ranking families. The 5 got along way too quickly. 

Peggy held up the tea pot “another fill, ladies?” Y/N and Dolley nodded, both taking their turns to fill their cups. 

“Awee, look at you Peggy, you’ll make a perfect wife” Dolley teased. The rest of the girls laughed it off, yet Y/N didn’t feel at ease with that statement. 

“You don’t actually think we will all get married that quickly, do you?” Y/N looked around to see their confused expressions. “Guys?” 

“Well..” Angelica pondered for a moment “I believe that it’s ideal to marry on your first season” 

Peggy had to stop herself from spitting out her tea 

“That soon? But we’re so young, and-” Eliza interrupted

“And we’re ladies. Society expects us to do nothing more and nothing less with what we’re given” Angelica takes a content sip of her tea once again “I don’t make the rules around here.” 

The silence was awfully louder than the conversation. 

“Alright.” Dolley smiled “I guess we'll just have to make this next few weeks extra special, right?” 

Y/N took a deep breath “the best of the best.” She muttered

Peggy turned to her and nodded, and Eliza was quick to join. Y/N faked a smile at the girls, ‘I guess that’s just how it is’ is what she thought, and Angelica would raise her glass for a toast 

“A toast to the best courting season?” The 4 other girls raised their glass as well. 

Though many hours were filled with laughter and giggles, Y/N couldn’t help but imagine how much her life would change within the next few months. And just by entering this season, Y/N will give up her youth and give someone her hand to please someone. To please herself? To please the people? To please her parents? She had no clue 

She stared out the window, remembering those nights of staying at the Schuyler residence, watching those drunk soldiers stumble across the street. Many of them were her friends, friends she had met through her fathers rank. She smiled at the thought of the most memorable gentleman she had met while at those camps. 

‘The French Foreigner’ is what they used to call him, but only before he became comfortable in the colonies. ‘Marquis de Lafayette’ was his title, and Y/N always loved the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. 

“I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m sure I don’t need you to accompany me simply to buy bread” Y/N stood stubbornly 

Lafayette gently grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips 

“I just want you to be safe, mon ange, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt..”

 He kissed the back of her hand, maintaining eye contact. Y/N appeared as if she just experienced a revelation “..shall we be on our way, mademoiselle?” 

She took a moment to think, her head still in the clouds. Y/N slowly nodded “Alright.” The two intertwined arms and headed into the city 

Oh how she missed the old days. Y/N hated to admit it, but she truly believed she met the most exquisite gentlemen during the war. Whenever she’d stay at the camps with her father, a small group of soldiers would always keep her company. A tailor, an abolitionist, two immigrants, the camps were definitely a mixing pot. 

At that very moment, Y/N prayed she’d be able to find someone like the men at her fathers military camp during this courting season. 

Y/N jumped at the tapping on her shoulder

“Y/N? Don’t tell me you already have suitors lining up out there for you” Y/N shook her head and laughed 

“I just spaced out. That’s all.” She attempted to change the subject “What were we talking about?” She questioned 

Peggy interrupted “Next week's ball, the first ball of the season. Do we show up in our best, or do we build suspense until the last seasonal ball?” Peggy debated 

“Let’s take one ball at a time, shall we?” Eliza proposed her idea 

“Well for the first ball, I suggest….” All the girls gathered around Angelica to hear her plan

—-Lafayette’s quarters (France)

Prince Lafayette neatly folded his clothes as he was departing for the colonies within a few hours. He remembers the excitement he felt when he traveled to the colonies for the first time, having to dress like a pregnant woman in order to board the ship, but he still cringes at the imagery. 

He elegantly stuffed his belongings into his shoulder bag. He stood back to admire his rushed work, but he felt as if he was missing something. 

Lafayette looked around his quarters, his eyes became glued on his treasured gun, gifted to him by General Washington himself. The wooden hilt was stained with god knows what, but the gold trimmings were shining in the afternoon sunlight. 

He’d already have French soldiers accompanying him, he was a prince after all. Would he need such weaponry? 

“I do not see why not.” He muttered to himself before stuffing it into his bag with the rest of his belongings. Lafayette dusted off his fancy clothing and stood in triumph, well, before a woman cleared her throat behind him. 

Lady Adrienne stood at the doorway to his study, her emerald green skirts creased against the doorframe. Lafayette and Adrienne previously courted before he left for the colonies, which ended up being her last straw. Lady Adrienne attempted to stop him, since she was a loyalist to the monarchs of France, but Lafayette refused to listen. 

“que veux-tu? I'm busy at the moment.” Lafayette covered his bag with a nearby coat, crossing his arms. 

“I heard you’re going back to the colonies. What’s so special across the ocean that you can’t have here? You’re a prince for god sake” 

“It’s none of your concern, get out of-”

“Last time you left for the colonies- left me for the colonies- you just weren’t the same when you came back.” she was on the verge of yelling

Lafayette sighed, having already been through this conversation ever since he came back to France. 

“This is nonsense. I need to be alone as of now.” Lafayette turned away from her to continue packing his belongings. She had a hurt expression on her face; part of her mind refused to believe he wasn’t her suitor anymore. Ever since he left for the colonies. 

She slowly began to advance towards him. “That is no way to talk to your previous courting partner, Lafayette.” Her tone was strong yet unsure. 

“It’s Prince Lafayette to you, and there’s a reason why we’re not courting now..” He was notably irritated by her presence. 

Lady Adrienne wasn’t leaving his quarters until she was given an answer. 

“Was I not enough for you to stay in France…?” she rested a hand on his shoulders, Lafayette visibly cringed. “What’s in the colonies that you can’t have here?” 

Lafayette swiftly turned towards her, brushing her hand off of his shoulder in disgust. “I don’t have to answer to you—“ he attempted to retort

“—Don’t tell me you’re still mad that I had more faith in the monarchs of our country rather than you” 

Lady Adrienne rolled her eyes annoyingly, Lafayette blood had already begun boiling long ago. She started moving closer to Lafayette, attempting to trap him in his room, and forcing him to stay in France. Although this was her main plan, she wanted an answer, and she wanted it now. 

“Your own lover didn’t believe in you. Is that why you’re so upset? It’s quite the reaction for something so minuscule—” she scoffed. 

Lafayette snapped

“—as a matter of fact, you weren’t my lover. It’s not you, its...” 

Lafayette, clearly frustrated, struggled to hold up under his old friend’s gaze. She saw it in his eyes, the way they lightened when he thought about the colonies. 

She saw a similar light in them the day he returned from France. Perhaps it was the praise he obtained for the foreign war, or perhaps some treasures he discovered, or maybe someone.

“Lafayette... Did you find another partner in the colonies?” 

The panic was visible in his eyes, but there no was no reason to panic, he thought. 

Lafayette brushed up against lady Adrienne, his lips were millimeters from her ear. He began

“Our relationship ended from the moment I set foot on that ship, and I do not regret it one bit..” 

He stepped out of her reach and continued to pack away his belongings, Lady Adrienne was frozen with shock.

“My business in the colonies is my business only,” He stated strongly. “And you are free to believe whatever you want, it would benefit me in the least to care about what you think. Am I being clear?” 

Lady Adrienne could only stand in silence

“Security! I’d love for you to escort this maiden out of this quarters at once!”

He’d never forget the hatred in her eyes as she was humiliatingly taken away. Lafayette kept his mind on his current task: the colonies await his arrival. 

—to be continued—

[theresthesnitch]

A Letter from Home

Coming in late on day 2 for this prompt, but I'm happy with how this came out. Another entry for @harryandginuary BINGO event.

O 63: “I’m having the worst day and you've just handed me an envelope with…”

Read it here on AO3!

Rated: Mature

***

The rain is incessant. 

Everything is saturated with it. Weeks and weeks of staking out this post in the neverending rain, hoping that the dark wizards responsible for a string of muggle disappearances would finally, finally make a move and reveal themselves. The intelligence was good. They were sure. This was the right location. All that was left was to wait. 

And wait.

And wait. 

And wait. 

And Harry was so tired of waiting in this fucking rain, and on today of all fucking days, that he was legitimately considering if being an Auror was really worth it. He couldn't just walk away without consequences. He may have saved the wizarding world from the worst dark wizard in a generation (which, the rational part of him that wasn't quite soaked through with rain reminded him was not a card he would ever play), he still didn't have the standing to just walk away from an unfavorable post. He was a junior Auror. He was only just out of his training and had only just achieved Auror status. So he was stuck with no choice but to wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

And what's worse is they just received word from Robards that they would have to keep waiting because the intelligence still suggested this was the place they needed to be and the targets were close and they just had to wait and I swear to Merlin I cannot wait in this fucking rain anymore. 

"Auror Potter!" 

Despite the fact that Harry was younger and had less training, Junior Auror Jeffrey Wilson insisted on referring to Harry in a tone and with an honorific that placed Harry at a higher level of seniority. In fact, several of the Junior Aurors referred to him this way. Harry gritted his teeth at the continued use of the title. 

"It's just Harry." 

"Right, sir. Sorry, sir." 

"No, Jeff. Not sir. Just Harry." 

"Oh. Uh, right, si- Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you need something, Jeff?" 

"Oh! Yes, sir." Harry bit back the angry retort at the use of sir again, and took the item Jeff was holding out to him. "A letter came for you." 

"A letter?" Harry looked dubiously at the envelope in his hands. "I thought they were blocking our post." 

"I don't know, sir. It came with our weekly rations from the Ministry, not by owl. Seems to be for you, though." 

Harry looked down at the letter in his hands, and his heart warmed at the familiar script that curled and twisted into his name. “Jeff, you are officially my favorite person here.” 

“Oh, thank you, sir! That’s wonderful!” Harry stifled a groan at the man’s overreaction to his offhand comment. “Uh, sir? What did I do?”

“It’s just Harry, Jeff. Not sir.” Why did he bother correcting him when it seemed like he would never learn. “It’s just that it’s my birthday-”

“Oh, happy birthday, sir!”

“-and we are stuck out here in the rain on this awful stakeout. I’m having the worst day, and you've just handed me an envelope with a letter from the love of my life. It’s just about the best present you could have given me.” 

“Oh, well you’re welcome, sir.” Harry shot him a glare that caused him to stagger a step under its weight. “Uh, Harry. You’re welcome Harry.” He scurried away swiftly after that. 

Harry flipped the letter over and broke the seal. He was immediately surrounded with the comforting scent of warm treacle tart, the earthy scent of a broomstick handle, and the flowery scent that had him momentarily transported back home to his bed and wrapped in Ginny’s arms again. He didn’t know how she managed to package everything he loved into this little paper box, but he was nearly overcome with longing, desire, and gratitude before even opening the letter inside. 

He removed the letter from the envelope, fingers trembling slightly. He unfolded it, and began to read: 

My love, 

I miss you so much that I don’t even know where to start. Remember to thank Robards for allowing me to include it in the supplies. I may or may not have yelled at him that the man who saved the whole wizarding world, including Robard’s own useless ass, deserved to receive at least a letter on his birthday. I’m not even a little sorry for doing it either. 

Mum wants to have a party for you as soon as you’re back, so she’s requiring everyone to keep Saturday evenings free until you get back. That resulted in a (not so) small amount of muttering about wasted weekends, but you know mum who shut them all up quickly. I only hope that she does not preemptively prepare a feast every Saturday just in case you turn up at the last minute. I don’t know if I have the heart to tell her that if you do show up without warning on a Saturday that we will not be making an appearance at a party that same night. Honestly, she may have birthed seven kids, but I am not prepared to discuss sex plans with my mother. 

Hermione helped me charm this letter so that it smells like Amortentia to whoever holds it. I hope you like it, and I hope it reminds you of that weekend we spent at Grimmauld Place during Christmas of my seventh year. If it didn’t, I hope that’s what you’re thinking of now.

Did I ever tell you my Amortentia smelled like? I don’t think I got a chance, since that was during my sixth year and you were away. I smell yeast dough and cinnamon, like the cinnamon buns that mum makes on Christmas morning. I smell the crisp, clean scent of new clothes and new shoes. And finally, I smell you, which is vaguely spicy and and dark, with earthy tones to it, like your Auror robes smell like when you return from long trips. I can still remember walking into Slughorn’s classroom and nearly being thrown backwards by the smell of it. It smelled of you so strongly that I searched for you in that room before I realized that it was a potion and not the real thing.

Writing this letter to you is bringing up all kinds of memories of my seventh year, while I was at Hogwarts and you were always just an owl away. I know it was only a few years ago, but I feel like we were such different people then. In that first year after the war, we were so broken down and struggling to come to terms with the post-war world. I’m proud of us for figuring out together how to navigate this new world. After the summer we spent barely apart, I thought we could never deal with just letters and a few Hogsmede trips, but it was leagues better than the year prior. 

I cannot wait for you to be home again. I’ve thought extensively on what that first day would be like when you finally return. I would feed you first, of course, because I know that you always come home from missions hungry. Something light, I think. Sandwiches, maybe, full of crisp green lettuce and juicy tomatoes. Then, I would take you upstairs, peel all of your clothes off and draw us a warm bath.

Do you remember the bath we took together after the Quidditch game against the Tornados my first year on the Harpies? We lost so miserably, and I was so worn down from the match. You took me in the bath, filled with rose oil and petals, and rubbed down all of my sore and tired muscles until I was putty in your lap. Then you made love to me slowly while the water cooled around us, and I swear that I have never orgasmed as hard as I did that night. I’ve been revisiting that memory a lot these last few weeks while you’ve been away, particularly when I’m alone in that great big bathtub, and my hand slips underneath the water and between my legs… 

Did I mention I miss you? Because I do. Touching myself never feels as good as when you touch me. 

I hope you come home again soon. I've been keeping busy with my training schedule during the day, but my nights are empty without you. I've been spending some nights with mum and dad or Ron and Hermione because I hate being here when you are so far away. 

I miss you, and I'll be here planning for the night you come home until I see you again. 

Yours eternally, 

Ginny

Harry reread the letter twice more, then held the paper to his chest and breathed in deeply the scents of Ginny and home. The letter was wonderful, but it also left him feeling empty. Reading her words wasn't half as good as having her in his arms. 

Harry looked up and caught movement at the house they've been watching for weeks. He waited another minute and, sure enough, it's what they've been carefully waiting and watching and hoping to find. 

Wait for me, Gin, he thought as he foldrd the letter and sounded the silent alarm. I'll be home tonight.

[creativeashproductions]

Hiking Buddy // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Once upon a time you could joke that quaratine bordom was the cause of the mass amount of 2020 pregnancies. Well you could until you found yourself in the same boat...or shall we say crib?? Go on the journey as Y/N reveals the pregnancy to Charlie and later their friends.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of vomiting, pregnancy, and fluff.

Words: 2.5k

Requested: Yes. Anon

A/N: Someone asked for dad!Charlie and I couldn’t resist.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

I take requests as well!

Masterlist

Pulled from deep in your chest was a groan at the dizziness rushing from the bedroom into the bathroom. The tile floor cool to the touch as your body was flush on the bathroom floor recovering from the bout of sickness. The fortunate thing about the pandemic was that you had no obligations taking you out of the home. Sitting up, you sat back against the white porcelain tub grimacing at the bitter aftertaste of your date with the toilet.

Slowly you found your grounding enough to shakily stand on two feet to brush your teeth to get rid of the nasty aftertaste. Your eyes found the pale expression of your reflection fading as nausea faded as well.

“This is tainting naps for me.” You muttered under your breath, washing your hands before proceeding to splash your face.

Your social media had been flooded with many people in your personal life and celebrities announcing pregnancies. You and Charlie often made teasing remarks about if people were so bored. Guess you couldn’t joke about it anymore.

Your hand splayed across the bare skin under the band shirt hanging loose on your form with a small smile. It had been a hectic year getting married to Charlie while filming the first season of Julie and the Phantoms. The plan had been to wait a few years to enjoy your careers and marriage before children. Get more established in the film industry as a woman was necessary, but you couldn’t get mad. This child would be a gift.

“I’d appreciate if I don’t have gross cravings okay? I have to put up with your dad’s questionable food combinations. I may throw up looking at it.” You muttered smiling at the smooth skin you couldn’t wait to grow into a bump.

At the beginning of the pandemic, you, along with Charlie, had flown back to Canada. Living outside of city limits, Charlie was able to still hike and meet up with family in a safe condition. You grew more as a couple as well.

Turning the light off in the bathroom, you made your way to slip your faux fur lined grey and burgundy moccasins—the mid-afternoon sun shining through the windows of the bedroom giving a picturesque view of the forest. Charlie was more than likely in the home gym you had thrown together once arriving at the home.

“I have an idea a little one.” You spoke to the little life you carried inside your womb. After the positive pregnancy and your confirmation with the OB/GYN, you had ordered a few items.

First, it was baby-sized pair of hiking boots to go with a forest green, that matched Charlie’s eyes, onesie with black lettering. The lettering saying ‘And so the Adventure Begins’. The background had with trees and mountains. As nature enthusiasts, you thought it would be perfect.

The box had arrived early this morning when Charlie had been in the shower giving you time to hide it. Now you just had to mention you wanted to go hiking with him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Charlie spoke, kissing your forehead as he walked into the home. His first instinct to grab a snack after his workout, “How was your nap?”

“Energized me. Hey, are you too tired to go on a short hike?” You questioned filling a glass with water to hand to him. His smile was thanks enough as he tugged you to sit in his lap.

“We haven’t gone on one in quite a while. What brought it on?” Charlie asked, wrapping his arms around to finish his protein bar. His chin coming to rest of your shoulder familiarly; you relaxed into his chest.

“It’s a nice day. We’ve been cooped up in the house for a while. Just wanna get out.” You replied heart doing a flutter when his arms wrapped around your midsection.

“Let me get a few things,” Charlie spoke gently, pushing you up to the job to the spare bedroom. The closet kept the supplies you used for hikes, like the first aid kit that he started bringing after you cut your knee once.

As he collected the items, you quickly changed into clothing acceptable for the hike and shoving the things into the backpack. Slipping it on, you met your husband at the front door lacing up your boots. Charlie lifted the house keys in his hands before he tugged you outside, excited for the escape. His hand never leaving yours, you found the well-used trail you had explored countless times.

“Are you feeling better?” Charlie asked, swinging your hands together, refusing to release his grip. His eyes glancing over to catch your expression.

“I think I was overtired.” You replied, keeping your eyes on the trail looking for the rock you wanted to use.

Charlie’s phone was pulled out to make a short video.

“Get yourself a partner that suggests a hike before you.” Charlie slowed to press a kiss to your flushed cheek, “No but seriously. I’m incredibly lucky to have someone like my wife here.”

“Oh, shush.” You snickered as he intentionally pulled you to a stop to press kisses all over your face. His grin and his love would melt the hearts of his followers. Charlie returned the phone to his pocket as he hummed the melody to Unsaid Emily.

“Be right back.” Charlie spoke, squeezing your hand as he jogged to the forest, “I drank too much coffee this morning!”

You couldn’t help the laugh at his blunt words and his typical caffeine intake, but it gave you the perfect opportunity. Using the limited time, you were quick to place the onesie on the rock with the baby hiking boots near the shoulder. You had forgone on asking for a sonogram picture so you could share that moment with Charlie.

“I always forget to pee before we leave the house. Good thing we live near nature.” Charlie spoke jogging closer to where you were hiding the items behind you.

“Do you think green or mine?” You asked, bringing an expression of confusion on your husband’s face. He stepped closer halting when you stepped to the side, “I think yours. I love your eyes.”

Charlie was frozen entirely at the surprise you had planted in his short absence. He didn’t even notice he had moved until the soft cotton of the onesie brushed his fingertips. With his attention solely on the boots, he hadn’t seen you had a stepped up a camera to catch his reaction.

“Are those…?”

“They won’t need the boots in our arms, but I thought we could match.” You continued shifting with the camera to catch his wonder-filled gaze. His expression melted your heart as he gently caressed the side of the boot from his crouched position.

“We’re-“

“-getting a new hiking buddy.” You finished beaming as Charlie lunged you swing you in his arms, “Okay Char. I’d prefer not throwing up again.”

Charlie stumbled back glancing around the area, “I love how you surprised me, but what if you had fallen? I can’t have my loves hurt.”

 “Charlie. We’re on an easy trail, not Everest. I’m fine.” You deadpanned watching his cheeks flush at your response, “But I would like to get home. I’m so hungry.”

September 2020

Emma Roberts, Sasha Pieterse, Bindi Irwin, High School Music alumni Ashley Tisdale, and Hilary Duff were only a handful of celebrities welcoming babies. If hiding your marriage with Charlie was hard during filming, hiding the pregnancy was harder with your friends. Especially hitting seven months with a big bump concealed with camera angles.

You wanted to keep the news under wraps, so the media focused on the show, not your pregnancy at an early age. Of course, your friends were suspicious of Charlie’s posts and stories, not showing their favourite Gillespie. Carolynn knew just by the fullness of your face barely noticeable to the others.

“Oof.” You breathed wincing at the sharp kick to your ribs from Sprout. Charlie’s concerned gaze glancing over from his interview.

Swiftly rubbing the area, the kick happened your fingers returned to flip the page of the pregnancy book. You had grown used to the concern Charlie carried, he always had his phone fully charged on his hikes. Hikes you hadn’t taken since you surprised him with the little boots; it had been a disagreement, but you got where he was coming from.

“I’m fine, Charles.” You spoke, forcing him to turn his attention back to the closing interview. Once he turned the camera off, he rushed over to crouch in front of the couch, placing his hands on your stretched belly.

“Thought we had a deal Sprout.” He cooed caressing the band shirt covering your stretched skin, “Don’t hurt your mama.”

Your face twisted as the baby shifted, while you were enthralled by the fact you were carrying a child it felt like an alien. It was weird feeling something move inside and kick your damn inside like a fucking soccer ball.

“I can’t wait for the baby to be out.” You groaned, hiding the smile as Charlie’s lips pressed against your belly. You couldn’t wait to see him interact with his child.

“I say we name him Luke.” Charlie teased shifting you ahead so he could slide behind you in the usual position. His fingers immediately massaging your stiff shoulders and neck.

“I like Alex better. He’s the best Phantom.” You retorted reaching up to hold his hands, “Sensitive and his sarcasm? Immaculate.”

“We can table the options at a later time.” Charlie quickly replied chuckling as you moved position once more to rest against his chest. His fingers finding their way into your silky hair, pregnancy hormones had sped up hair growth.

“Hey-“ Your words fractured as your phone buzzed with a FaceTime request from Jeremy. Charlie quickly answered with a snicker as your response was cut off.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed at the sight of you two on your couch, “My wife and I had drinks with our family. Carolynn slipped and told me something interesting.”

You and your husband froze as Carolynn sheepishly joined her husband in their white bedroom with a quick apology. Guess the cat was out of the bag.

“You guys are having a kid?” Jeremy asked, taking in the two actors he had quickly become good friends with during filming. His mind recalling a moment at his wedding when you guys had disappeared for a good twenty minutes.

March 2020

The Shada wedding had been gorgeous and like a dream to see someone you saw as a brother find his other half. Your hand was kept tight in your husband’s sitting among Owen, Tori and Kenny himself. Owen had snuck himself and Tori wine while Kenny turned his eye to the underage drinking.

“Wanna take a walk?” Charlie murmured in your ear as Jeremy and Carolynn made their way around their guests. His hot breath sending a chill down your spine as his left hand came to rest on your thigh.

The romantic atmosphere with the wine you had had during dinner lowered your inhibitions that you and Charlie snuck to the less used bathroom. You two quickly gave evidence that wedding hookups were very real. You managed to sneak back into the reception where dancing was taking place; a perfect story to why you and Charlie were a little dishevelled.

“Hey!” Owen called seeing you two join him on the floor. The wine had blinded his view of the very obvious couple, Owen knew from catching you two what a quickie appearance looked like.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink Bud.” Charlie spoke to the teenager as Jeremy made his way over to his friends, “Congrats Jer!”

“Thanks, man! When will we get the Gillespie wedding we didn’t get?” Jeremy called over the music beaming when his new wife plastered herself to Jeremy.

“Maybe in the next year.” You retorted twirling in Charlie’s arms thanks to the dance lessons of boot camp.

“Oh my god. Little Gillespie was conceived at our wedding.” Jeremy spoke, leaning back to his wife, “You’d be due in November, right?”

Your cheeks burned as Jeremy and Carolynn put the pieces together swiftly, “Well can we keep this a secret until October? I don’t want to take attention away from the show.”

“You should tell the others.” Jeremy suggested squeezing his wife’s hand, “They might think Charlie kidnapped a baby otherwise.”

Agreeing to announce to your friends Charlie had set up a video hangout with Owen, Mads, Savannah, Jeremy and even Kenny. It was in the later evening with the hiking boots out of shot and your shirt and belly below the camera view.

“Hey, guys!” Charlie greeted his friends as everyone entered the video, “Insane how many fan edits there are!”

“So cool!” Mads beamed addressing Kenny, “Thanks for giving me the chance to be involved in the coolest project.”

“You did all the work.” Kenny waved it off, taking in the cast of one of his favourite projects to date. You all meshed together so perfectly even if your character was only recurring like Sav.

“Hey, Kenny can we get your opinion on something?” You asked, gaining everyone’s attention and excitement after only using texting with the group. Morning sickness and fatigue had depleted your desire to be physically seen.

Kenny nodded, leading you to grab the baby hiking boots, “Do you think these are adequate enough to run from the witches?”

It was utterly silent as Charlie raised the little plaque he had ordered. The plaque included the Hocus Pocus witches in front of a cream moon, faces featureless other than eyebrows and lips. The corner had a cobweb with a little spider and just under it said ‘Winnie, I smell…a child’ with the pregnancy test snug in the cut out. Your favourite was the ‘it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus’ under the test.

“No way!” Owen screamed as all hell broke loose with the others. Charlie beamed at the sheer excitement on their faces.

“You’re having a baby?” Kenny murmured with a smile at the touching announcement and acting being involved.

“Charlie suggested the Hocus Pocus theme because we may have kept it to ourselves and our family?” Your voice went up a few octaves as the truth broke free.

“You haven’t had the kid, right?” Mads questioned peering in the background behind you finding nothing.

“Hopefully we have our hiking buddy in November on the due date. I don’t want to overdue, this kid weighs a ton.” You moaned snuggling into Charlie’s side, “We defin-“

“Jer’s wedding.” Owen interrupted with narrowed eyes, “You disappeared and came back with-“

“-O there is a child present.” Sav joked getting Mads to scoff at her, but everyone made a face as they recalled your disappearing act.

“Oh, your house must be filled with gross food combos. I hope the baby gets Y/N’s looks and taste buds.” Mads called hanging up before Charlie could retort at her. His eyes rolled, but the smile told another story, but slowly each of their friends said their goodbyes.

“At least Owen won’t go spilling the news to anyone.” You snorted playing your hand on Charlie’s large one splayed across your tummy.

You had a lot to thank Kenny for too. Without being cast by him, you wouldn’t have met your friends which in turn would mean you wouldn’t have been at Jer’s wedding. That would have been tragic since his marriage is the sole reason you had a child due in two months.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds  @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl​ @all-in-fangirl​