#what tragedies series

[galatially]

❝𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲❞

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐕𝐈: 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬!𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 x 𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — she was my sun, my moon, the flesh i never shed; when two souls meet, their love deserves a witness from the Gods

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 2.7K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, pre-wedding day jitters, fluff, subtle not so subtle time skips lol

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — first post of 2025! i didn't think that i was gonna finish this y'all, but we made it! i did kind of speed through the season changes to get to the wedding but it's still a good chapter, i swear!

The next few weeks went by in a blur.

Planning a wedding wasn’t something you were familiar with and while you were grateful to your sisters, Wanda, and Natalya, it was daunting at minimum and exhausting at maximum. Color schemes, dinner items. All of it seemed to go over your head. 

You tried to hold back your protests when Natalya (it still felt improper to say your mother-in-law’s given name but she’d been patient with you) told you that anything of hers was yours and your sisters’. 

“‘It isn’t charity when we’re to be family soon,’” she said, one of her warm smiles quirking up into her lips. You silently thanked her and continued following her through the merchant’s shop. 

“If I don’t see another wedding garment it would be too soon,” you said on a groan. You were sat in your kitchen, Daphne cooking over the fire and Alma snacking on an apple as you commiserated. 

“Have you decided on a date for the wedding?”

“The spring.” You picked up one of Alma’s apple slices, earning you a raised brow. “I didn’t realize how much planning went into wedding ceremonies.”

Daphne turned to look at you, her brows furrowed. “Are you considering not going through with it?”

“Of course not! I’m just…this is a lot of attention that I’m getting that I haven’t been otherwise. Some of the nymphs in the temple have been acting strangely towards me. Offering to carry my books, asking me questions about the King and Queen. I’ve become some sort of major figure without noticing. It’s unnerving.”

“What’s Pietro got to say about all of this?” Alma asked.

“He and Wanda say that I should get used to people wanting to befriend me for my connection to them.” 

That was easy for them to say because they grew up in the public consciousness. No one dared speak their true thoughts of them to their faces for fear of the wrath of the son of one of the Old Gods. They had power that catapulted them above reproach. 

But you didn’t. You and your sisters lived relatively quiet lives and, up until your courtship with Pietro, you’d never thought of a life other than your simple one. Sure, it was rare for a nymph with no noble standing to rise the ranks of a prestigious temple, but you knew that you’d cut your teeth for years and worked hard to catch the eye of Lady Agatha. But you were uneasy beneath the gazes of your peers after the announcement of your courtship.  

“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before befriending the prince and princess of the realm,” Alma teased. You stuck your tongue out at her and she laughed. “All jests aside, little sister, you’ll be fine. The opinions of anyone else don’t matter as long as you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“That’s all that matters,” Alma replied, taking hold of your hand. “Now, what color will your dress be?”

“I was very fond of a few designs but I couldn’t decide between them. The seamstress said that she’d surprise me.” You blew a few errant curls from your forehead. “I can’t wait until it’s over.”

Daphne chuckled. “You’ll be wed before you can blink.”

“And then you’ll be off living in a palace with serfs and ladies in waiting,” Alma added, teasing. “You won’t even miss us!”

You lightly shoved her. “I won’t miss your snoring, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t snore!”

You turned to your eldest sister. “Daphne, please tell our dear sister why you switched rooms with me last summer.���

Alma’s wide brown eyes gaped. “What!”

Daphne gave her an apologetic smile. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

The middle child scoffed. “I don’t snore! I can’t believe you’re taking her side!”

“You snore like what I think a stampede sounds like,” you deadpanned. You quickly dodged Alma’s open palm, cackling. “You do!”

Alma frowned. “Keep going and you’ll not make it to your nuptials, sister.”

“I love you, too, Alma.”

“What’s your favorite song that you’ve ever written?”

Pietro let out a breathy laugh, his fingers lazily drawing circles up and down your bare back. It was the early morning, the moon still high and stars blanketed across the blue-black, violet sky. 

“I wrote you a lullaby that I’m quite fond of.”

“Oh?” You propped yourself up on your forearm, grinning. “Let’s hear it then, bard.”

A smile played at his lips as he gathered you in his arms, his eyes closing. 

“The moon lost its daughter, the princess of the sky

She chose I to raise the dawn for

The stars are her rivals, her siblings in the sky

But still I am longing for her, how she rises like the tides”

The song sunk down into your bones, reverberating in your chest, leaving your body tingling with love. 

“I can’t recall ever being a daughter of Selene,” you drawled teasingly. 

“Perhaps not but you are the one that consumes my days and nights,” he said, slanting his mouth over yours. His tongue slipped past your lips, savoring your taste. You let out a whimper and he chuckled against your mouth. “Do we have to wait for spring?”

“What?”

He brushed a few curls from your forehead. “We can get married tomorrow. Just us, a priest, in a little temple.”

You snorted. “And have your mother and sister wring my neck for them missing our union? No, thank you.” You sat up on your elbows. “Where is this coming from?”

“You seem…overwhelmed.”

Your brows canted. “How do you mean?”

“I overhead my mother and sister talking about the wedding preparations and how they’ve been worried that we’re overwhelming you.” He gave you a small smile. “You know that I’ll do whatever you want, don’t you? If having a large ceremony makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop it short.”

This man. 

You cupped his cheek. “The only overwhelming thing about all of this planning is the fact that it’s all for me.”

Pietro pursed his lips. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I don’t want you to feel like you have to agree to anything because it’s my family. This is more of your day than it is mine. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“Anything?” He nodded, his curls swaying against his face and neck. “Kiss me.”

You’d never get over the exhilaration of Pietro’s kiss. Your lungs burned, lips touching but still not close enough. When he pulled back, his lips were red and kiss-swollen. “You’re sure that you’re okay?” 

“Do you want to marry me, Pietro?”

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted,” he vowed emphatically. 

“Then it’s settled. We’re to marry in the spring.” You smiled up at him. “Not even the most tedious of planning will keep me from wedding you.”

He gave you a coy look. “Wanda told me of some of your outings. Why on earth did you tell the merchants that you couldn’t afford anything?”

“Because I can’t. Your family is funding the entire ceremony.” 

“And that money is just as much yours as it is mine ,” he said.

You put a hand on his chest. “Coming from a modest life, accepting extravagant gifts — well-intended or otherwise — is going to be a challenge for me. I spent most of my time in those shops feeling out of place. Wanda and your mother did their best to include me but I couldn’t help but feel like a pauper among royalty. Over time, hopefully, the feelings will pass. But it’ll be in my own time.”

The corners of Pietro’s mouth quirked up. “Have I told you how wise you are, lily?”

“Not as much lately,” you teased. You giggled when his hands moved to your hips, pressing himself against you. The first stream of sunrise bled across your face. “We have to leave this bed at some point, Pietro.”

“I disagree.” He nipped at your collarbone. “With all of the wedding plans and my father taking me along on his travels, we’ve barely seen each other.”

“Be that as it may, your mother and sister are going to be here in a few hours to come collect me for more wedding planning,” you said, chuckling. 

“Once all of this is over, it will only be too soon,” he muttered.

You snorted and started to rise from the bed. Pietro’s arms wrapped around your middle and pulled you back into him. “Pietro!”

“Just a few more moments.”

A sharp rap on your door stopped your next words. “Pietro, if you’re holding Y/N hostage in there, I swear —”

“She’ll be out in a moment, sister!” he answered gruffly. His blue eyes found yours and he let out a resigned sigh. “Duty calls.”

“Duty calls.”

You hadn’t noticed the seasons change until you were leaving temple one afternoon. The air was crisper, the greenery turning orange, red, and brown. Could it really almost be [Thracian name for October]? Your wedding was six months away; too far away to think about and too quick it’ll appear in a moment.  

Warmth gathered around your shoulders. You turned and saw Pietro, a thick covering in his hands. 

“You’ll catch cold,” he smiled. 

“I thought you were with your father today.”

“I convinced him to let me leave early to see you home.” He draped an arm around your shoulders. “How was your day?”

“More or less the same as always. Everyone’s excited for the ceremony. I’m fairly certain that Lady Sylvie and Carol are keeping tally of the days until.” You shook your head. “I swear I don’t think I’ve ever seen the temple so lively before.”

“They’re celebrating you. Why wouldn’t they rejoice?”

Heat flooded your cheeks. “I suppose.” 

“Is it all right if I join you and your sisters for dinner tonight?”

“Of course.” You raised a brow. “Is there any particular reason or…?”

“I’ve been traveling with my father more, you know that. We’ve been visiting neighboring kingdoms and villages so that I can see what I’m going to be responsible for one day.” The cooler winds brushed his curls against his face and neck. “My parents are Gods, descendants of the Old Ones, so they’re not dying anytime soon.”

“But all of the planning makes that possibility real to you,” you offered, taking one of his hands in yours. 

“Childish, isn’t it?”

“Of course not. If my parents were still alive, I’m sure I’d have the same feelings. No one wants someone they love to leave them.” You smiled up at him. “I think your father sees a lot of himself in you. And because he sees a lot of himself in you, he’s giving you the tools and guidance to be as great a king as he knows you’ll be.”

You both had stopped in the middle of the road, the wind whipping around you and your eyes on each other. Pietro’s lips lifted slightly. 

“When did you become so wise?”

You laughed. “I just happen to be very proficient in you, Pietro Maximoff.” 

As you continued down the road, a thought presented itself suddenly. 

“Piet?”

“Yes, lily?”

“Will you invite some of your soldiers to the wedding?” You felt him stiffen. “I think they would love to see you on such a special day.”

“I don’t know if I can, Y/N,” he rasped. 

“We still have time to decide. I just wanted to know.” You looked to the overcast sky, a thoughtful tone coloring your voice. “Do you think it will snow soon?”

Pietro hummed. “It appears. What do you and your sisters do during the winter? Do you close the apothecary?”

You nodded. “Most of the herbs we use die during the winter and what we don’t dry prior is very hard to find as it gets colder. You can help us this evening after dinner, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to.” 

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You and your sisters spent winter solstice with the Maximoffs. 

You giggled as they gaped and fawned over the palatial scene. Natalya and Erik gathered them into warm hugs and waved off their modesties with an emphatic “you’re soon to be our family. Our home is your home, our life is your life.” 

Daphne turned to you, an impressed look in her brown eyes. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said they were welcoming.”

You smiled impishly. 

Wanda and Alma became thick as thieves and both you and Pietro trade narrowed glances and affronted noises back and forth between your respective siblings. 

“If I’d known you’d share stories to embarrass me with, Alma, I’d have left you at home,” you bit out. 

Your sister waved your words off, a broad smile stretched across her lips. “Why shouldn’t our new sister and brother know my favorite stories about you and I hers of him?”

You pouted and looked to your eldest sister. “Daphne!”

She held her palms up. “You know that I don’t get in between your fights anymore. You’re a woman of ten and nine now.”

Natalya’s green eyes cut to you. “When is your birthday, dear?” 

“The first week of Maios,” you answered, “my sisters like to say that I’m the quintessential forest nymph because of the timing of my birth.”

“We jest that she was truly a daughter of Maia,” Daphne took hold of one of your hands. “Her warmth, her compassion, is the embodiment of everything the Goddess symbolizes.”

“Y/N told me of your parents,” Erik said suddenly. “I found their ending very beautiful.”

“They were hopeless romantics and hopelessly in love with each other,” Alma said. “I can’t speak for Daphne but I was always in awe of our parents. I’ve fantasized about having a love like that my entire life.” A glimmer of pain passed in your sister’s eyes but you didn’t say anything about it. 

“What were their names?”

“Artemas and Chloë,” Daphne said. 

“And Y/N didn’t know them well, right?” Wanda asked gently. “You both raised her.”

“That’s right,” she said solemnly, “They passed when she was just a babe — no older than three years.” She bumped shoulders with you. “We took care of her in the way of making sure she was well fed and warm, teaching her how to help with the apothecary. But she taught us so much more about compassion and drive and love that we’ll both cherish for the rest of our lives.”

“She may be the youngest child but she’s the heart of our family,” Alma added. “You’ll be gaining the brightest star in our sky.”

Tears started pearling in the corner of your eyes. 

“Well, hopefully, your parents give us their blessing from beyond to be your family as well moving forward,” Natalya proclaimed, putting a hand on Alma’s shoulder and giving you and Daphne one of her warm smiles. “It would be a great honor to be a mother to such extraordinary women.”

When Daphne looked to you and Alma, you both smiled. She turned back to Natalya, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Thank you.”

“No,” Erik smiled, “Thank you.”

Wanda raised her glass, her gaze flitting around the table. “To family.”

Everyone else mimicked the action and repeated, “to family,” clinking your glasses together. 

Winter came and went, Aprilios arriving unseasonably warmer than you expected. 

The wedding was in two days and your nerves were shot. Lady Agatha had given you time off from temple to finish any last minutes preparations. When you weren’t with Erik discussing your choices for the dinner menu or going through the final fittings of your dress with Wanda and Natalya, you were spending as much time with Pietro as you could. 

“Can you believe that the day is almost here?” 

You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “It’s surreal.” You giggled as he pulled you onto his lap, his fingers brushing along her cheek and jaw. “Your mother insists that I spend the evening before the ceremony with her and Wanda at your home.”

“Yes, my father is taking me to a cousin’s home not far from the city,” he said dourly. He tightened his hold around your middle. “Will you miss me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “It’ll be for less than twelve hours, Piet.”

“I’ll miss you terribly for those less than twelve hours.” You lightly slapped at his chest. “I’m serious! All I’ll think about is how far away from me you are. What you could be doing while I’m not there.”

“Trying to keep my nerves at bay,” you deadpanned. 

“I’ll be dreaming of you and your warmth by my side.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “Excited to be sharing a life with you.”

“What a charmer, you are, bard.”

“Charming enough to stay with you tomorrow night?”

You gave a bright smile. “Nice try.”

“Y/N!”

Wanda threw herself into your arms, laughing as you stumbled. 

  “I saw you earlier this morning, Wanda,” you said, chuckling. Natalya was in front of you both, a warm smile on her lips. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

 “Natalya, please, Y/N.” She took one of your hands in hers. “Your sisters arrived just before you did so we can get supper started.”

 You nodded. “Thank you, Y — Natalya.”

“Of course, my dear.” 

Wanda half-dragged you up the stairs and led you into the large dining room. “Your sister is a talented seamstress! I’m half tempted to ask her to design a garment for me.”

“You should,” you smiled, “She loves doing it. I used to jest that she should’ve left the apothecary to pave her way in the city.”

“I’d have missed you and Alma terribly,” Daphne retorted, smiling. “Not even for all of the money in the world would I leave you two behind.”

Alma made a faux affronted noise and came to your side, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Codependency will be this family’s downfall, it would seem.”

“I think it’s lovely how close you all are,” Natalya spoke. “It’s no different from how our family is.”

“And we’re very visibly codependent,” Wanda quipped. 

“We’re just thankful that someone loves our dear sister as much as we do,” Daphne smiled, “Pietro and Wanda have been lovely additions to our little life.”

You took hold of Wanda’s hand, a broad smile on your face. 

“Thick as thieves they are,” Alma chuckled, shaking her head. “I remember the first night Wanda visited. She was flittering around like a hummingbird, all questions and bright laughter.”

“Remember Y/N’s first day at temple?” Daphne added, giggling. “I was sure she was going to wear a hole in the floor!”

“‘That girl! How dare she imply that I can’t be a scholar!’” Alma glanced over at Wanda. “You incensed her in a way that I’ve never seen before. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her exclaim such dislike for another before.”

Wanda threw her head back, a deep belly laugh echoing throughout the room. 

“I’m glad you find my anguish amusing,” you deadpanned. 

“Honestly, Wanda,” her mother groaned, a hand on her forehead, “you have the tact of your father.”

“What! I apologized!” She whipped around to face you. “Y/N, tell them that I apologized!”

As you opened your mouth to speak, their cook appeared. The older woman gave a small smile, her hands clasped against her front. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Ada.” Natalya turned to the rest of you. “Come now, ladies, let’s get out of the staff’s way so they can set the table.”

“Thank Gods,” Alma moaned. “I’m starving.”

Everyone else left the room, leaving you and Wanda alone. 

“You’re getting married tomorrow.” 

You nodded. “I am.” You turned to look at her. “Thank you, by the way.”

She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”

“For giving me your blessing. For being my sister these past few years.” You took hold of one of her hands. “I’m glad you’re beside me.”

She smiled, her cheeks dimpling. “Thank you for allowing me to be by your side. I couldn’t have stayed sane without you. And thank you for loving my brother. For bringing him home.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — they're almost married, y'all! which means that we're almost done!

[selemina]

I finally watched Animator VS Animation. I uh... I have feels. Those are some EXPRESSIVE stickmen, damn! If anything, AVA is a masterclass on body language! But it also happens to be fun, spectacular, emotional and beautiful! So much effort goes into every episode, I as a fellow animator I am measuring the amount of work and I am HORRIFIED! So it is time for another episode of "Sel finds stuff on the internet" : Go watch AVA! You won't be disappointed!

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

thinking about "it's unreasonable to assume that a character knows what genre they're in" and how in series 1-3, Merlin (and the audience) thinks that he's in a fantasy adventure comedy. no one realises that he's in a tragedy until it's too late.

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[pharawee]

[goldensunset]

i love darkness and edginess in kh absolutely and i think the deeply philosophical introspective examinations on what it means to be human aka existential dread and all that lends itself to a bit of horror easily and i love seeing it utilized to its fullest potential. ultimately though what i want is something comforting and reassuring at the end of the day- like what nomura said about the series reflecting his belief that ‘the heart is never truly gone’. how you might lose people but they’re always a part of you. i will be happy no matter where the series goes as long as it fundamentally comes back to love and human connection. it’s really beautiful the way the story gets so incredibly dark but it always manages to come back to the light somehow- whether it’s a classic disney happily ever after, or something more akin to other storytellers where something is absolutely lost but it’s still a good ending, y’know? instead of everything being saccharine you get hurt and you grow because of it and new beauty blooms. kh really delivers on that front and i want it to stay that way forever

[solidwater05]

In Last Life, Pearl died in the finale and it gave Scott the strength to keep going, to avenge his friends, to make all those gifted lives count. He fought and fought until he came out on top because it's what Pearl and Cleo would have wanted. He raised his sword with pride and got struck down for winning the game by not playing, honorable and clever

In Wild Life, Scott dies in the finale and Pearl feels alone. It's a new kind of alone, without guidance and without purpose, that stops her in her tracks while the world keeps going around her. She doesn't want to get up and fight, there's nothing left to fight for. She gave it her all and it wasn't enough. She feels so pathetic.

[smoozie]

Getting emotional over Scar saying he would betray anyone if necessary, but not Jimmy. Then Tango and Bdubs insisting he will have to eventually betray him. And Scar refuses.

[willyhoos]

i cant. Stop thinking about hetaoni. its classic literature. i just sit in the dark and think about hetaoni italy for hours at a time.

it's shown in veneziano's scenes in vol 1 that his struggles are:

1) that he doesnt have Any friends (that don't benefit from/use him in some way); he hates being alone

2) that he is a massive coward (probably because he's been kicked around so much) and is VERY easily sent into hysterics

3) that he is a terrible liar and could not be less suited to combat/espionage/military management. this is stated outright (credit hetarchive)

ok. do you understand this character? now put him in a situation where he is forced to

be alone all the time. because . yknow. his friends keep dying in the timeloop. also his friends don't remember that they ever became his friends because, again, they keep dying in the timeloop

2. keep a cool head IN SPITE OF everyone else panicking, face a giant horrific monster time and time again, and deal with things that he is, to speak frankly, used to delegating to other people.

3. LIE. lie to his friends, lie to himself. lie about what he does and doesn't know. lie not just in what he says, but in how he acts. he also has to try and coordinate not his own actions, but the others' actions too, and keep them "on script" (idk if you know this but the nations are a bunch of hotheaded and arrogant people, and they're not really eager to be "directed" by their Actual Enemy, esp one they think so little of as italy, so this is a miserably difficult task)

literally NO ONE could be less qualified for the role of ryuuzu than italy. and a huge portion of the (delicious) tragedy of hetaoni is that the expectation of "maybe it will help italy mature!! y'know, character development through horrific trauma!!" is never realized. he HASN'T evolved into a suave, detached time-loop master. he's tired and frustrated and in grief and so so confused and completely and utterly hopeless... AND HE'S NOT EVEN GOOD AT TIME-LOOPING. HE CONSTANTLY MAKES MISTAKES AND GETS PEOPLE KILLED.

the reason it works is BECAUSE italy is in the wrong genre here. when you think "timeloop protag" you think of a certain jaded, cool character. italy is neither of these things. he's hysterical and the furthest thing from collected. he doesn't have answers. he doesn't have a concrete plan. he barely knows how to tie his shoes.

it's so delicious. veneziano's flaws and weaknesses come into play as running jokes in the original series, but in this kind of situation they leave him directly to blame for so much of the events of hetaoni -- and he knows this -- and it's such a sick twist. i love it !!

[ddocson]

this is my formal apology for all of the "Ouugh" and "Ouch" tags you guys left on my prev rancher drawings<3

[galatially]

❝𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲❞

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐕: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬!𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 x 𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — she was my sun, my moon, the flesh i never shed; families grow and blend together more often than not

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 7.3K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, heavy petting, honorifics (sweet girl, love), more Declarations of Love™, very Guess Who's Coming To Dinner-esque

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — are y'all ready to wear pearls and meet the family? also can we get a little commotion for me updating? i haven't written in god knows how long and i'm happy i finally got this out of the noggin!

“Will they like me?”

Summer time in the temple were hectic at best and, in order to prepare for the solstice ceremony, several of the other scholars volunteered their time to Lady Agatha. Which left you to carry brunt of their work and yours. You were happy to do it, of course, but that left no time to meet with Pietro. So, like the warm breeze, he surprised you with dinner long after everyone else had gone. 

“I haven’t seen you in three days! That’s closer to eternity than I’d like to be, Y/N.”

After a back and forth that lasted almost a full minute, you relented and he’d been watching you work ever since. The remnants of dinner sat in a basket at his feet and he was watching you from his seat beside you. Every so often, he’d skim his fingertips along the length of your arm or absently brush the top of your knee, earning a breathy chide from you. But in the last hour, he’d gone quiet.

You looked up from your tome, Pietro’s blue eyes on you. “Who?”

“Your sisters. What have you told them of me?”

You lifted a shoulder. “I’ve told them enough. Who your family is, your time at war, our time spent together.” The left side of your mouth lifted. “Are you nervous, Your Highness?”

“Terrified.”

It always struck you how easy vulnerability came to Pietro. Everything he’d ever felt plain on his face for the world to see without any reservations, no qualms of being misconstrued. 

You turned towards him and put a hand over his knee. “They like you. They just want to get to know you outside of my praises of you.”

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “You praise me?”

You snorted, turning back to your pages. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You’ve not given me any complaints yet.”

“There’s no time like the present,” you teased. 

Pietro put a hand to his chest, his features faux-wounded. “And you say that I’m impossible.”

“Tell me, demigod, what apprehends you about meeting my family? Surely you’ve courted someone before.” After a few moments of silence, you looked to him. “You have courted someone before, yes?”

“Courted wouldn’t be the word I’d use.”

Your brows raised. “Pietro Maximoff, you rake!”

He chuckled, his palms face up. “I was a different man back then — a boy, really. I’d be remiss if I claimed to be virtuous in that respect.”

You hummed. “I suppose.” 

“Have you ever been courted before?”

“No, but Alma has.” You closed the tome. “His name was Logan and he was a soldier from Athens. I can’t recall him well, but he was a kind man, if not intense.”

“Intense?”

“Logan seemed the kind of man that only spoke when he had something to say. Like his words were better spent on things that mattered rather than wasted on idle things.” You sighed, mindlessly tugging at one of your curls. “I remember coming home and finding Alma crying in the garden. Later that evening, I overhead her and Daphne talking: she’d turned down Logan’s marriage proposal. She didn’t feel it was fair that she leave Daphne and I and that she shouldn’t have pursued Logan to begin with.”

Pietro put a hand over one of yours. “That must’ve been hard.” 

“I remember vowing to myself that I’d do everything in my power to never be a burden on my sisters. If their reasons for staying in Thrace and running the apothecary was to take care of me, then I’d be self-sufficient. I’d work hard and earn my keep.” You smiled at him. “And then your damned sandal hit me on the head and I’ve become selfish, wanting to be with you and you alone.”

His brows canted. “If I’m keeping you from your family, Y/N, I don’t — ”

You giggled. “Pietro, you have nothing to fear. Daphne, Alma, and I have spoken extensively about our courtship and they’re excited to meet the man that’s given me other purpose besides being a scholar.” You brought the back of his hand to your lips. “They will love you just as much as I will. I guarantee it.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they will have to deal with me,” you said firmly. “We’re orphans, so I don’t need their approval. But even if they won’t like you — which I don’t believe — it won’t change my feelings.” You put a hand to his cheek, a smile lifting in the corners of your mouth. “Unfortunately for you, Your Highness, you are stuck with me.”

Pietro slotted his mouth over yours, his moan echoing in your ears. You’d have thought by now you’d get used to kissing the demigod, memorized the feel of his plush mouth moving against yours and where his hands imprinted on your skin. But every time it takes you by surprise. Some days, he’s sweet — the kisses slow and all-consuming, your breathy sighs he swallowed down. Times like today, when you’d go days without seeing each other, he’d take your face in his hands and devour you. He eased you into his lap, pulling back to gaze dreamily into your eyes. 

“Having you is a sentence I would gladly serve, sweet girl.”

You were orphaned.

The realization kept rearing its head as you and your sisters prepared for Pietro’s arrival. Its customary for the father of the bride to meet with the soon-to-be groom and discuss the marriage contract, but both of your parents had been gone long enough for their memories to barely leave a stain on your mind. 

Which meant that this dinner was more of a courtesy than an obligation. Why that twisted your stomach and shook your hands, you hadn’t figured out yet. 

“There’s only so many ways you can arrange those flowers, Y/N,” Alma said, laughing beside you. 

Your eyes focused, a distracted noise leaving your mouth. 

“Hey.” She put a hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to face her. “If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to have Pietro over.”

You shook your head.

“Talk to me, Y/N.” She took your hands in hers. “What is ailing you?” 

“I…” You blew out a breath. “What was Logan like?”

Alma brows raised and she let out a surprised chuckle. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” She leaned up against one of the chairs, a wistful smile coming onto her lips. “Logan was…kinder than he seemed. He treated it like a secret, something shared only between us.” Her brown eyes held yours. “Why do you ask?”

“When you were with him, did you feel as though your breaths were no longer yours? Like…like, when he left, the edges of your world began losing luster until he returned?”

“Like you’d disappear if you weren’t near him?” You nodded. “The day that I told Logan to leave, a pain that I’d never wish upon my worst enemy bloomed in my chest, clawed itself between my ribcage and squeezed my heart so viciously it could have felled me.”

“Did you end the proposal because of me?”

Alma put a hand to your cheek, a sad sigh leaving her nostrils. “I ended things because I was afraid. You and Daphne were all I’d ever known. Logan wanted to travel the world, settle in some far off lands, and have a brood of children. I was afraid because I could see it. Little girls with his proud countenance and gentle smile and little boys with my eyes and our shared dark skin. They would hang from our limbs, begging us for kisses and hugs. And it shook me to my core.

“I’d never thought of myself being a bride, let alone a mother. Convinced myself that roles like those were reserved for women like Daphne — kind, naturally maternal. What if I did not love my children after they were born? What if the did not love me?”

“You and Daphne have been wonderful mothers to me,” you countered. “I wouldn’t be who I am if not for you both.”

“Then promise me something,” she said, smiling now. “Promise me that you will not let fear into your relationship with Pietro. He clearly knows how much we mean to you for him to ask for a formal meeting, despite us being orphaned. That tells me he knows you.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon? That we’re rushing into things?”

Alma’s thumb brushed along the top of your cheek. “Love isn’t linear; there are no timelines or reasons. It just…is. It’s up to you whether you accept or reject it, I’m afraid.”

You heard Daphne calling for you both, only glancing towards the doorway of the kitchen as her tall frame came into view. 

“There you both are! What are you — Y/N? Are you okay?” She hurried to the other side of you, gathering your face in her hands and her brown eyes surveying your features. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling well?” 

“She’s fine, Daphne,” Alma said, chuckling. “We were just talking.”

Daphne pouted. “You both look like you’ve been crying.”

“We have, but we’re fine,” you answered, “thank you both for doing this for me.”

Your eldest sister looked between the two of you, her brown eyes going from suspicious to concerned before she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I swear, I will age fifty years because of you both.”

“We love you, too, sister.” Alma brought her hands together, a bright smile on her face. “Enough dawdling! We have a prince to entertain.”

Ale loosened Pietro, you found.

When he arrived, he’d given your sisters polite nods and practiced answers, but you noticed fixed his stance was, the tightness of his knuckles that were half-hidden against the flesh of your hip. You took hold of his wrist and gave it a squeeze; I am here.

Your sisters noticed as well, Alma hooking an arm around his neck and leading him into your home, a conspiratorial inflection to her words. Daphne chuckled and led you behind them. By dinner, he’d started to return to the charming bard you fell for, regaling your sisters with stories of his childhood and the parts of his travels that bore no bloodshed. 

When Daphne passed him a goblet of ale, he took a hearty swig of it, smacking his lips at the tartness between the sweet. 

“This is divine! You make this yourself?”

Daphne nodded. “Our father taught me. Alma and I will make different varieties and sell them in the marketplace.” Her eyes moved between the two of you. “We could supply some for your wedding, if you’d like?”

Blood pooled in your cheeks.  

A grin split across the expanse of Pietro’s face. “Have we been that transparent this evening?”

Alma snickered. “It would explain why she’s been so excited this evening.” She looked to you. “Have you accepted?”

You nodded, your fingers circling the mouth of your goblet. “I wanted you both to meet Pietro before we moved any further.”

“You’ve told us much about him already, Y/N. We would’ve given our blessing even without the formalities.” Daphne took one of Pietro’s hands in hers. “Can we speak? Alone?”

Pietro blinked. “Me?”

Alma nudged your shoulder, her head tilting lightly to Pietro. 

You nodded and turned to smile at him. “It’s okay, Piet. She wants to talk. You’ll only be in the back garden if you need me to rescue you.”

Another smile that stopped your breath pulled at his lips. “You’ve never called me Piet before.”

“W-well, I know that Wanda does and it just slipped out,” you stuttered, your eyes on the ceiling now. “Do you…not want me to?”

“You can call me whatever you want, sweet girl.” He turned back to your sister. “Lead the way.”

The moon was high tonight.

Daphne hummed as she led Pietro towards the stream near their home. He hadn’t expected your sisters to be so…welcoming towards him, a virtual stranger save for your praises of him. And he knew that Daphne, being the eldest, would have profound impact on your decisions. 

“Don’t be so tense, Your Highness,” he heard the smile in her tone, “we’re almost there.” When she stopped a few feet before the water, she lifted a hand, her index finger fixed ahead. “Our parents are those great trees across the way there. When they died, their arms were around each other as they started to transform. Their branches are intertwined forever.”

“That’s beautiful,” Pietro said, “they’re always together that way.”

Daphne nodded. “I was twelve and Alma was ten when they passed. Y/N was barely three years old and didn’t have many memories of them, but she still couldn’t understand where they’d gone. All she knew was that Alma and I weren’t smiling anymore in the days that followed.” She let out a watery chuckle. “A child no older than a babe would take our faces in her hands to wipe our tears away. She’d kiss out cheeks and tell us that we’d be fine.” She cleared her throat and looked to Pietro. “Has Y/N told you that she wanted to study as a sorceress?”

Pietro shook his head. “I had no idea.”

“She’s very adept at it, almost as well-versed as your sister. When she was younger, she’d sneak off to the marketplace in the city and tell fortunes to make money for us. Once Alma and I found out, she stopped, of course, but we encouraged her to hone her craft.” Daphne smiled. “Our mother was a fine practitioner and Alma and I did our best to teach Y/N what little we were taught to get by. If she’d have gone on with it, she’d be a wonderful priestess.”

“If she’s used to wielding magic, how did she come to want to become a scholar for Lady Agatha?”

“She tends to abandon things if she cannot immediately conquer them,” Daphne said, chuckling. “When she couldn’t perform spells of higher skill, she decided to find texts to practice with. Instead, she fell in love with history. When Lady Agatha sent word that she was looking for scholars, she applied.” She tipped her chin to Pietro. “Have you never noticed her using magic before? She uses it read faster, write for longer periods of time.”

He shook his head. “She hides it well.”

“Perhaps she just needs a safe space to express that part of herself.” Daphne took his hands in hers. “Pietro, you love my sister. I felt it the second you entered our home. You light up inside and out when you’re around her and I have no doubt that you’d love until your last breath. But before I give you our blessing, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to promise me that you will encourage her to spread her wings. Yes, love her, respect her, be allies to each other. But give Y/N the space to explore and chase the dreams she has. Make sure that she travels, meets new people, experiences everything that excites her.” Her brown eyes shimmered with tears in the moonlight. “I want her to get everything she’s ever wanted and to never be afraid to want them. Promise me.”

Pietro understood now what inspired you about Daphne; her warmth was tangible and, within it, her love for you and Alma is the root. All night, she made sure that he felt like part of your family and extended some of her warmth to him. His heart swelled. This is what loving you meant, loving and being loved by your little family. As he stood before the woman that raised you, he put his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes on her brown ones, and smiled.

“I promise.”

You should’ve known that something was amiss when Wanda met you outside of the library, concerned etched into her features. 

You blinked slow, confused. “Yes?”

“Did he ask you?”

Your brows knitted together. “Did who ask me what?”

“Did my brother ask for your hand?” You froze. “He’s my twin, Y/N. By now, you’d think he’d get better at lying, but I know when he’s trying to hide something from me.” 

You swallowed thickly. This wasn’t how you wanted the conversation to go; you’d planned the whole exchange. You’d ask her to accompany you on a walk and you’d tell her the truth, that you and Pietro were to be married and you wanted her blessing. 

“Oh, Gods be praised!”

Your jaw slackened. “What?”

She took hold of your hands, a warm smile on her lips. “It’s about time! I thought he’d drag his feet until I’d have to force him.”

You shook your head. “So, we have your blessing?”

Wanda snorted. “Of course you do! Why wouldn’t you?”

“I know how close you and Pietro are and I know that you’re both still navigating how to be since he’s come back.” You blinked back tears. “And you’re my best friend. I don’t want my loving your brother to create a rift between any of us.”

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to me.” She cupped your face in her hands. “I love my brother. Yes, we’re very close and, yes, we are learning each other all over again since his return. But he loves you. He’s always talking about you, even when I remind him that I’ve known you longer. I have never known my brother to be so enamored with a maiden before and if I had to choose anyone, I’d gladly choose you as his bride.” Tears fell down Wanda’s cheeks in soft streaks. “And once you’re both married, we’d be sisters!”

You laughed, sniffling. “We practically are, Wan. I don’t need to marry Pietro to know that.”

“Exactly,” her thumb swiped along the top your cheeks, catching your tears. “You don’t need my blessing, but I will give it to you. I would be honored to have you join my family and be at my brother’s side.”

“Ladies? Is everything all right?”

You both turned; Lady Agatha stood before you, concern in her blue eyes.

“We’re fine, mistress,” Wanda answered, smiling. “Y/N was just sharing some good news.”

“Oh?”

“She and my brother and getting married!” You turned to her with wide eyes, hissing at her to stop talking.

“Y/N! That’s amazing news!” Lady Agatha clapped her hands together. “We’ll have to host the ceremony here!”

Your heart dropped. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, mistress, truly.”

She waved you off. “Nonsense! You just let me know when the wedding is and we’ll get the temple prepared.” She pulled you into her arms. “I’m so happy for you, Y/N. You deserve this happiness.”

“I — thank you, mistress.” You pulled back, a small smile on your lips. 

“It would be my honor.” She winked at Wanda before walking towards one of the other sorceresses. 

Wanda turned back to you and squealed. “Have you thought about what color you want your dress to be?”

“I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I’m engaged,” you admitted. “Besides, we haven’t talked about a date and he just met my family — ”

“You still have to meet our parents!” She gripped your forearms. “You and your sisters should come to dinner soon! Don’t worry, I’ll tell Pietro and we’ll talk to our parents.”

You giggled. “Don’t overexcite yourself, Wan. We have all the time in the world to plan.”

She pouted, her brows canted and her lower lip jutted out. “You don’t want me to help plan your wedding?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m saying that, for right now, let Pietro and I enjoy being engaged for a few weeks. Then, I will get you, my sisters, and your mother together to help plan. Deal?” You held up your pinky finger. 

Wanda smiled and hooked her finger around yours.

“Deal.”

“Are you sure your sisters are fine with us being along without them present?”

You looked at Pietro from over your shoulder. “Do you intend on ravaging me while they’re at market, Pietro Maximoff?”

He stood up from the table and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin in the crook of your neck.  “Don’t tempt me.”

You let out a breathy chuckle. “Behave.” 

He nipped at the base of your neck, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I’m always behaved.”

You kept your eyes on the vegetables you were cutting before you spoke again. “Wanda wants to help plan the wedding, by the way.”

Pietro hummed against your skin. “Is that okay with you? If you’d rather leave the planning between you and your sisters, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I told her to let us enjoy being engaged before we start any planning,” you set the knife down, “she wants us to have dinner with your parents soon.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to wait until my father’s done hosting the other noble families to suggest a day with him,” he said. “Are you nervous about telling them?”

You lifted your free shoulder. “I’m more nervous about meeting them than I am telling them we’re getting married.” You turned around and put your face against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Will they think I’m too common for you?”

Pietro scoffed. “There is nothing common about you, sweet girl.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Despite what the populace like to believe, my family and I do not judge anyone based upon class. If anything, they’ll not even bring up your status.”

“I’m not ashamed of my status,” you argued, glaring up at him. “Is that what you think? That I’m ashamed?”

“What? No.”

“My sisters and I may not be as affluent as you and your family, but I love our life, Pietro. I just don’t want them to judge our union because I’m not noble or have a title. I don’t need them acting differently when we meet.”

“Hey,” he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb tracing along your bottom lip, “I promise you that they don’t care what your status is and neither do I. You’ve led a beautiful life and your sisters raised you well. I wouldn’t try to change anything about you for the sake of my parents. Okay?”

You nodded, shaking your head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten cross.”

“I’m sorry for not being clearer in my intention.” He pulled back, smiling down at you. “If they make you uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Right then and there.”

“Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering on your skin before he looked down at you again. “Daphne told me that you can use magic.”

“I can.” Your eyes looked over his shoulder. “Are you angry that I didn’t tell you?”

“No. Shocked, at first, but once Daphne explained why you didn’t, I understood. You’ve told me before and I didn’t hear you.” He lifted your chin to fix your gaze to his. “I want you to be able to share every part of yourself with me. I don’t want to you to ever think that I won’t ever listen or that I will reject, okay? And if I ever make you feel the opposite, tell me. We’re partners in this.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his knuckles. “I will.”

Pietro smirked. “So, what can you do?”

“I can scry and use very small levitation spells. But it’s been years since I’ve done either.”

“Have you ever scried your future?”

You shook your head. “I want to be surprised. But I can try to read your palm, if you’d like.” He shoved his hand into yours and you turned it palm side up, your eyes and fingertips surveying the lines in his skin. You hummed. “Your lifeline is interesting. It’s long but there’s an intersection that breaks it in half before continuing.”

His dark brows canted. “What’s that mean?”

“I couldn’t say. I haven’t scried in years.” You moved to the middle of his palm to love line. “Your love line is long and doesn’t intersect or run alongside any other lines.”

Pietro leaned forward. “Is that good?”

“It means you’ll have one long, great love.” Your cheeks heated up. “This love will be the most profound and impactful to you.”

“I can agree with that.” He closed his hand over yours. “I can only hope that my one, great love will accept me.”

“She’s accepted you since that first night she held you in her arms,” you answered, running your free hand up and down his forearm. “She hopes that you don’t change your mind about her once you both get closer.”

Pietro chuckled. “You love me and my scars. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

“Having you is a sentence I would gladly serve,” you said, mirroring his words to you those weeks ago.

“You’re fidgeting.”

You looked up from your hands; Pietro was smiling at you, his chin resting against hand. 

“I feel underdressed,” you said, frowning.

“You look beautiful,” he tapped his foot against yours, “I love what you’ve done with your hair tonight.”

You smiled, tugging at an errant curl that escaped the braid Daphne and Alma had done for you. You suggested plaiting buttercups and daisies from the garden into your hair as a way to keep them with you. Alma tied the hair off with a silk ribbon that beaded resemblance to the color of Pietro’s eyes in the sun. “Thank you.”

His eyes raked over your body. “Did Daphne make your dress as well?”

You smoothed out the garment. Daphne had spent four days sewing and dyeing the periwinkle dress you wore. There was gold ribbon that you cinched your waist with and gold trim on the skirt of the dress that caught the light beautifully. When you’d tried it on this afternoon, you felt like a princess. 

“She did.”

“She’s a fine seamstress,” he said, smiling. 

You giggled. “I’ll let her know you’re a fan of her work.” Your eyes caught the trees blurring from the carriage window. “I’ve never been in a carriage before.”

“It’s quicker than walking,” Pietro said, lifting a shoulder.

“It’s easy to forget that you’re a prince,” your hands wrung together, “not that you act haughty, but I only see you as Pietro, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not much different with my family than I am with you.”

“Would it be silly to ask if they’ll like me?” Your voice sounded so small, foreign to your own ears. Suddenly, you were all too aware of you and Pietro’s differences. You’ve never convened with nobility and, despite how well-versed you were, you knew that you carried an accent native to denizens of the countryside. What was love when tradition loomed over you both?

Pietro tapped his finger against his thigh. “Come here.”

You raised a brow. 

He kissed his teeth, a deep grin curving along his lips. “Come here, sweet girl. I won’t repeat myself.”

The sensuous threat beneath his words made you clench your thighs. Your tongue wetted your bottom lip as you watched your fiancé spread his legs wide. Before you could retort, he lunged forward and gathered you in his arms. 

“Pietro!” you hissed. “We’re on out way to meet your parents!” Your eyes went to the other side of the carriage. “The coachman could hear.”

He gave you a toothy, wolfish grin. “Then I suppose you’ll have to keep quiet, then, won’t you?” His lips latched onto the column of your throat, sucking and laving at the skin. A chuckle rumbled in his chest at the squeak you barely caught with the palm of your hand. 

“Pietro!”

His large hands took hold of your hips. “Could you blame me? My bride-to-be is so beautiful that I cannot help but imbibe in her.”

Heat warmed your face and neck. “Your bride-to-be would like to salvage what little dignity you’ve left her to meet your parents. I can’t risk my current state to your lust.”

“And she will.” One of his hands dipped under your skirt, the knuckle of his middle finger ghosting along your folds. You sucked in a breath. “They will love you, Y/N. My mother has been excited to meet you since Wanda told her of your first meeting,” his teeth played at your collarbone, “my father is curious to meet the maid that has so rapt my attention these past months.” His free hand swept tendrils of curls from the back of your neck, his fingertips lingering on the warm skin. “Wanda already loves you. You’ve nothing to fear, my love, I promise you.”

“Curiosity does not equate to like,” you breathed out. Your hips bucked against his hand, desperate for friction. When he stopped his ministrations, your eyes narrowed in frustration. “Stop teasing me, Pietro. It’s unfair.”

“I would never,” he cooed, moving a hand to cup the back of your neck. Gooseflesh covered your body and, suddenly, the air in the carriage was hot and thick. Pietro continued sucking bruises into your soft skin, using his hand splayed against the base of your skull to expose more of your neck to him. A hiccup bubbled out of your throat, soft mewls that bordered sobs not enough for him to give you what you want. “Does my little nymph want relief?”

You blubbered out a “yes”, your head lolling from side to side. Pleasure tightened your belly and all you lust-fogged brain could focus on was, touch me, touch me, touch me. 

“Gods, you look divine, Y/N,” Pietro murmured against your ear. His hands cupped your breasts, fingers adeptly working your pebbled nipples. You whispered his name, your nails digging into the flesh of his thighs. “How sensitive you are, my love.” His lips dragged along the juncture of your neck and your ear, his canines gliding along your pulse point. You started to let out a moan when he eased three of his thick fingers into your mouth. “Shh, shh. Remember our coachman up front. You wouldn’t want him to know what we’re getting up to, would you?”

You moaned his name around his fingers.

Pietro groaned out your name, rutting his hips against your backside. You could feel his cock through his chiton, your mouth watering even more. He moved you further up his lap, your slick soaking through the fabric of his tunic. 

Two knocks from the coachman made you both pause. From his side of the carriage, you saw his ancestral home in the distance. You felt laughter against your back and turned to give your fiancé a simpering look. 

“Was that your way of distracting me?”

His left cheek dimpled. “Did it work?”

Pietro favored his father more than his mother. 

Seeing him, Wanda, and their parents standing with each other, they shared the same coloring: tan skin, dark, curly hair, and sharp, devastating features. But where Wanda and their mother were carbon copies of each other, Pietro and his father shared the same mannerisms and expressions. 

Wanda called your name, her hand held out to you. “This is our mother, Natalya, and our father, Erik.” A proud smile crossed her plush lips. “Mother, Father, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my very best friend and our Pietro’s bride-to-be.”

You went to curtsy when you were pulled forward, rose and marjoram filling your senses. Natalya’s hug was warm and comforting, easing your qualms almost instantly. Like Wanda, gold bands and thick, clay bangles hung from her wrists and thin, gold rings sat on every finger. Her deep, brown eyes sparkled as she regarded you. 

“My children underestimated your beauty.”

Heat pooled in your cheeks. “Uh — thank you, Your Grace.”

She chuckled lightly. “Please, call me Natalya. I’ve heard so much about you, it feels as though you’ve already been a part of the family.”

You’d have to remember to reprimand the twins at a later date. 

“So glad to finally make your acquaintance,” Erik said, giving you a warm smile. “You’ve caused quite a commotion for my children.” 

“You as well, Your Majesty.” Your eyes widened. “Not that you cause commotion — ”

A thunderous laugh rumbled from his chest. “Don’t be so nervous, Y/N. We’re happy to welcome you this evening.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly, Wanda and Natalya hooked their arms on either side of yours and hurried you up the stairs into their home. 

“You look gorgeous, Y/N,” Wanda started, “but Pietro should’ve been more…methodical about displaying his…excitement.”

A few seconds passed before your eyes widened and you went cold. “No.”

“There’s a very prominent love bruise just here.” Natalya pointed to the space along your collarbone. “It’s wonderful to see my son so smitten with someone.”

“I can assure you that I’m not so cavalier to parade my private affairs on such an important night,” you pressed. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Wanda smiled, “Just wait until you two are married. You’ll probably never leave your bed.”

Natalya shushed her daughter. “Leave them be.” Her fingers quickly undid your braid. “It’s perfectly normal for betrothed to display affection.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose. “Mother, please, spare me. I don’t need the image of my brother bedding my best friend.”

“I’d prefer we not speak about this at all,” you said morosely. “We should get back.”

“Almost done,” Natalya sang, “just need to…there!” She brushed a few curls from your forehead. “Perfect.”

“You can’t even see the bruises anymore!” Wanda teased. 

Natalya brought her hands to your face, smiling. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Natalya,” a warm smile stretched across her lips, “we are to be family soon and should refer to each other as such, yes?” You nodded, an apology falling from your tongue. “And no apologies! We’re happy to welcome you into our home, Y/N.”

“They must be waiting for us,” Wanda said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Are you ready?”

You furrowed your brows. “For?”

She smiled broadly, a wicked glint to her green eyes. 

You thought your little family was boisterous, but the Maximoffs were a different beast entirely.

Wanda was regaling the table with a story of Pietro during their childhood, more relaxed than she was at temple. Your laughs intermingled with their parents’ as she spoke of a lover of Pietro’s past. Every now and again, Erik would mirror her mannerisms: wide, expressive eyes, big gesticulations. On either side of you, Natalya and Pietro were the same side of each others’ coins. They laughed along, more reserved than Erik and Wanda, their hands either clasped together or resting against their crossed forearms as they leaned forward. Their interjections were just as passionate as their family members’ but quieter. 

A memory — or a memory of a memory — played in your mind: Daphne and Alma’s boisterous laughter, your arms outstretched to a woman whose eyes you could not place. Warm hands cupping your face. Though your throat was clogged and your eyes started to water, your smile stayed. You had this once, a family like theirs. Perhaps you could have it again. 

“Y/N?”

You blinked. “Yes?”

“Wanda isn’t deterring you from this union, is she?” Erik’s blue eyes regarded you with concern, a small smiled eased in the corner of his mouth. 

You shook your head, turning a bemused grin to Pietro. “I knew that you were a flirt, but not quite to this extent, bard.”

Your lover groaned. “Can we please move on?”

You took his hand. “It’s all in good fun, Pietro. Despite your previous courting, I will still allow for you to have my hand.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dimpling. “Allow me?”

“I jest, my love,” you fluttered your lashes, “You have all of me.”

“Such a charmer,” he teased. “How could I say no to those beautiful, brown eyes?”

Natalya put a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve found quite the equal, Pietro.”

Pietro brought the back of your hand to his lips. “And I thank the Gods for her each day.”

Erik stood from his seat, everyone’s eyes shifting to his form. “Y/N, would you care to accompany me for a walk?”

“A walk?”

“Pietro’s told me of you and your sisters’ beautiful garden.” His pale blue eyes went from his wife’s back to yours. “Perhaps you could lend me your keen eye in crafting a bouquet for the Queen.”

You were nodding before you spoke. “Of course.”

He beamed at you. “Lovely.”

The Royal Gardens were far more impressive than the one off of the back of your home. Tall pomegranate and fig trees stood before the moon and created a looming shadow as you and the King walked. 

You turned to him. “What are some of the Queen’s favorite flowers? I saw some beautiful hyacinths and irises that would make for a lovely bouquet.”

Erik smiled. “I must confess that I asked you out here under false pretenses.”

You cocked your head to the side. “May I ask?”

“When Pietro came back from the war, we weren’t sure what to expect. Though he put on a brave face, he wasn’t the same.” He let out a deep sigh. “When he said he’d met someone, Natalya and I thought he was rushing into something because he felt that’s what was expected. Like he needed to fall back into the boy he used to be rather than stand as the man he now is.”

You hummed. “I can understand that.”

He turned to you, a dark brow raised. “Oh?”

“He came to me one night.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I thought he’d stood me up, at first. I can handle a lot of things but the thought of him standing me up, leaving me alone like that, made me feel an embarrassment that I’d never experienced. I get it: I’m no one special. I’ve no status, no title. I’m no descendant of any dignitaries. Perhaps I was the distraction from himself he sought after.

“But then he kept coming around. Showed up at temple to walk me home, got me a journal to write in. One would not make such efforts if they did not spend time with another, no?”

“Correct.”

“He’s told me from the moment we met that I would be the woman he wanted to spend his days with.” You let out a small chuckle. “You can imagine how…unnerving that was for me, at first. Though I came to it slowly, I love your son, Your Highness. I just fear that I’m not equipped for all that it entails to love him.”

“You’re just as thoughtful as Wanda said.” Erik ushered you to a table sitting in the middle of the garden . Once sat, he smiled warmly at you. “It’s normal for some trepidation when considering sharing one’s life with another. When I proposed to Natalya, I spent too many months wondering if that was something if I was moving too fast. I wanted Natalya, I knew that, but I never thought about what being husband and wife meant for either of us. I was young and impulsive and in love with an incredible woman, unsure of what marriage looked like outside of my own family growing up.”

The Old Gods; the six original beings that birthed the world as you knew it to be. Erik’s father, known as Zeus, was the God of Gods. For as many miracles and marvels he performed, there were just as many tragedies belied in his wake. From your short time with him, Erik seemed like a wonderful man, someone aspirational. You could only imagine what he and his siblings saw on Olympus. 

“I have no reference for marriage,” you said, looking to the sky, “outside the tree in our garden.”

Erik’s features twisted. “A tree?”

You smiled fondly. “My parents’ bodies went back to nature. They never stopped embracing so the trunk of the tree and some of its limbs are twined.”

“That’s very beautiful.” He paused. “How did they die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“My mother was dying of illness and my father died shortly after of a broken heart.” You wrung your hands together. “I wasn’t more than four and didn’t understand why they’d gone. How does one explain to a child their parents’ deaths?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be, Your Highness. My parents loved each other and, hopefully, are together in the afterlife and the next. My sisters and I remember them with love and reverence and that’s enough.”

“My son says that you were worried about your role as the prince consort.” You nodded slowly. “I can affirm that your studies will not cease because of your union. You will not be bound by duty to the throne.”

Your pulse kicked up. “Your Highness…”

“Erik, please,” he smiled warmly again. “I cannot very well bless this union without considering both of your wishes.”

“Pietro told you of our disagreement?” she asked, her voice small.

“He did.” He put a hand on your knee. “You’re just like my wife and daughter; determined and independent. You shouldn’t have to be defined by whom you love.”

You wiped at your face, soft chuckles spilling from your lips. “Thank you, Erik. I am forever indebted to you.”

He smiled at you again and you were struck with how much he looked like Pietro, a devastating, boyish expression that could compel you to commit any crime he’d asked. 

“We are indebted to you.” He stood from the table and kneeled in front of you, his blue eyes, holding your gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N, the kingdom of Thrace is forever indebted to you for your love and acceptance of my children. For your steadfastness and willingness to share your life with us. We are honored to welcome you into our family.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

You circled the tip of your finger along the lines of his sternum, moonlight painting his skin. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

You looked up at him, your breath catching at how intense his gaze was on you. “When are we to marry?”

“We could marry tomorrow, if you’d like.” You swatted at his chest. “My parents said something about a summer wedding but ultimately it’s your choice.”

“Don’t you mean our choice?”

Pietro gathered you in his arms and ran the back if his hand along the curve of your arm. “This wedding is for you. You could decide this very second that you want us to go to the temple and marry in front of a cauldron. I would follow you, no questions asked.”

Your face warmed and you cuddled more into his chest. “I like the spring.”

“Then the spring it is.” He kissed your forehead. “What else ails you, my love?”

You waited a few beats before you spoke. “Your parents are lovely. I wondered most of the night if my parents were like that when they were still alive.” Your lower lip quivered some. “I’ve refrained from thinking about my parents for so long because I have no memories of them. I’ve always felt that I couldn’t ask Daphne or Alma because I don’t want them to feel bad, but I want to know about them.”

“Would you like me with you when you ask about them?” He looked down at you. “I won’t speak but I’ll be there for support.”

Gods, I love this man.

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “When I’m brave enough to ask them, I would love that.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i told myself that i wasn't going to go above eight parts and then i realized that most of my blockage with chapter five came from trying to shove over 10K words and a wide expanse of details into that one chapter so here we are lol

[blaithnne]

Luke Pearson, slapping Johanna's forehead like a car boot: this bad boy can fit so much childhood truama in her

[its-just-hyper]

In anticipation for the ending of my hero academia, I gotta say: man, is anyone remembering that one time that one beloved book series about a wizarding school ended with the flawed government staying exactly the same, everyone having kids and naming them after killed off characters, and the protagonist becoming a cop?

[vivitalks]

man. derek is such an interesting character in season 1, especially when you can look at him through the lens of having seen the whole show, because he's like an unreliable narrator for scott, even though he's not a narrator for the show.

the thing is, derek in season 1 is the primary vehicle for werewolf lore. as new viewers, we're reliant on his character to explain to us the rules and conceits of the genre, but once you've seen the whole show, that role is no longer necessary. but for scott, in season 1, derek is the sole source of werewolf intel. derek is werewolf jesus. which means that everything scott initially learns about being a werewolf is filtered through the Derek Hale Trauma Matrix, and neither of them know it.

for example: in 1x05, derek tells scott that pain is what keeps you human (which is a mantra that gets repeated and referenced a ton over the course of the rest of the show). scott has been a werewolf for all of five seconds, and has no choice but to take the word of this obviously much more knowledgeable werewolf. in that way, derek operates as a kind of narrator for scott, giving him information and context he couldn't really get any other way. but it's unreliable info. don't get me wrong - derek isn't trying to be an unreliable narrator; he's not aware of how much his life experience has colored his understanding of his own species. it's just that...well...derek is a twenty-something with the kind of trauma that eats other trauma for breakfast. of course he would say that pain is what keeps you human. at this point in the show, pain is all he has.

this is the same guy who, in the next episode, says this:

DEREK: You getting angry? That's your first lesson. You want to learn how to control this, how to shift-- you do it through anger, by tapping into a primal animal rage, and you can't do that with her around. SCOTT: [defensively] I can get angry. DEREK: Not angry enough. This is the only way that I can teach you.

except we know, and scott quickly learns (in that very same episode, in fact), that this isn't true. anger doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't work for scott, who's not an angry person. the things that work for derek won't work for all werewolves - but how would derek know that? he's never had to teach someone to be a werewolf before. he's not actually werewolf jesus.

to scott, derek is the only trustworthy source of information on being a werewolf, because he's the only werewolf scott knows. and from derek's perspective, everything he knows about being a werewolf must be true, because it's true for him. derek is the narrator, and it's only as his backstory unfolds that the viewers, and scott, learn just how much his history and trauma have obscured the reality of things, even for derek himself.

pain is not what makes you human. it's what makes derek human. because the moments in derek's life that stand out to him most are all tinged with tragedy. mercy killing his high school girlfriend. losing his entire family in a house fire. the death of his sister. for derek, to be human is to be in pain, and to be angry about that is the only way to be in control. after all, he doesn't have anyone teaching him otherwise.

[violetheart77]

She’s everything 💖

He’s just Ken 💖