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wheelsup · 3 years

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kissing lessons

summary: one of your classic movie nights with spencer turns into a learning opportunity

A/N: this is really fluffy, but the whole story centers around kissing. use your own judgement! i’d say it’s at worst 16+

category: spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff (with a bit of spice) best friends to lovers (sorta)

warnings: just kissing, a brief implication at the end

word count: 3k

Occasionally, the team will spend an extra night in their hotel before heading home from a case. Be it due to poor weather conditions, or the fact that your case wrapped in the dead of night, the reasons for flying don’t ever matter. Because the majority of the times when you have to stay that extra night, you and Spencer have sleepovers.

The routine is pretty much the same. You’ll stock up on gas station snacks – sour peach rings for Spencer, salted microwave popcorn for you – and reconvene in one of your hotel rooms. Preferably, whichever of you got the better deal that week – a bigger tv, a room further away from the ice machine. And you’d rent the cheapest movie available on-demand, the options spanning from low-budget sci-fi to poorly written rom-coms. That night, the viewing fell under the latter category.

Spencer perched at the foot of your bed with both feet tucked under his legs, criss-cross style, while you laid against the headboard to watch. Every now and then, you tossed out your commentary and he’d ignore it. He always says you’re too critical of movies and you’re of the belief that he’s too forgiving.

“I don’t think they should end up together,” you mumbled, words slurring around your mouthful of popcorn. You pulled a face right as the movie approached the romantic climax, after spending the past ninety minutes actively rooting against the couple. Spencer ignored you, pretending to be engrossed in the movie to spite your disparagement of it. “They both suck.”

You groaned, slumped further against the pillows, and shoved your sock-clad toes under Spencer’s left thigh in a call for attention. He jumped at the intrusion, but ultimately, your efforts were futile.

And then the big kiss commenced, and your booing finally piqued his interest. “Gross! I feel bad for people who kiss like that.”

A small bell went off in his head and he took a curious glance at you over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stopped chewing and the piece of candy in his mouth pushed out his cheek, giving him an adorably innocent look. His brows scrunched in the middle and his nose had a tiny crinkle in it, utterly confused.

You scoffed and matched his expression. “Are you serious?” You jerked your head in the direction of the television and Spencer whipped his head back, squinting. He couldn’t figure out what you were pointing out, what it was that was so obviously wrong to you. “Spencer, he’s swallowing her chin!”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed.

Feeling dumb, he muttered, “I thought that’s how you’re supposed to kiss…” It wasn’t the deepest confession to admit to you that he lacked some knowledge when it came to kissing, but he still refused to look at you as he said it.

“Spencer, please tell me you haven’t been kissing people like that.” You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, sitting up straighter in bed. He shrugged and lowered his head, focusing on his snack as his fingers dug into the packet of gummy rings in his lap.

He popped another piece into his mouth, pretending to be occupied with eating so as to avoid your prying. “I dunno.”

It didn’t occur to you until that moment that Spencer might have learned everything he knows about kissing – among other things – solely through watching movies. How else could he look at that and think it’s normal? And you’re left wondering if he’s ever even practiced it with another living human. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but unfortunately, that only heightened your interest. You had to know.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You kept your voice low, your tone implying that you were ready to exchange this secret with him. You wouldn’t judge him if he admitted he hadn’t.

He scoffed loudly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’re positive he rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, of course.” Then quietly, he added on, “But it was only like… for four seconds.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering how this new piece of information adjusted your existing view of Spencer. For some reason, you couldn’t tell if you actually expected him to be experienced or not.

He didn’t exactly scream that he’d… gotten around, for lack of better words, but you’re still surprised to learn that he’s barely done it at all. You supposed he was objectively cute, that maybe you could see it if he weren’t your best friend. And yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s smart and kind, so he has three great things going for him, and you’re surprised more people haven’t swooped him up yet.

Your lips curled down in thought, brows raised in curiosity. “And was it good?” It was a genuine enough question, because you’ve never really thought about Spencer Reid and kissing in the same sentence before. As it turned out, there was a lot of missing information relating to those two things.

“I don’t know! I didn’t get, like, a feedback form,” he grunted, angling his shoulder even further away from you. If you could’ve seen him, you’d notice his face boiling and turning red with heat. All this inquiring made him think harder about his … talents … than he’s ever had to before, and he’s not a fan.

You were prepared to do some more digging when the slump in his back made you feel a tinge of guilt. It was your fault he looked so defeated. You pressed too hard, disregarding his boundaries just because you wanted to know more. And now, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him, because you wouldn’t leave it alone.

He barely noticed as you swung your feet from under his thigh and rocked onto your knees, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with your palm. It hauled his attention out of his thoughts and back into the room. You wanted to apologize, but instead you settled with “I’m sure you’re fine, Spence.”

He nodded unconvincingly. By the glow of the screen, you could see he was still gnawing on the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes as he played with a loose hangnail on one of his fingers. It made you feel even worse. “Are you actually worried about it?” you asked, laden with concern.

“What if I am bad at it?” He whispered, like saying it too loud would make it true. “And that’s why it’s only happened once?”

A large exhale puffed out of your nose as you weighed your options.

You could go back to your original plan and apologize for setting him down this path of doubt. But that wouldn’t do anything to stop him from worrying, anyway. You could tell him there’s no correlation between the way he kisses and how frequently it’s happened; that you’re sure the reason isn’t because he’s bad. But you don’t know that for sure.

So, fuck it, you thought, grabbing a fistful of his pajama shirt and tugging him closer to you roughly, pressing your lips onto his.

This way, you’d at least have an informed opinion to be able to tell him if he was good or bad.

His lips were softer than you expected – not that you’d thought about them often, they’re just impossibly softer than they look – and invitingly warm. But they were completely stiff.

You could tell he was trying to kiss you back by the way his mouth ferociously moved over yours. He was trying to be a passionate, engaged partner, but he forgot about the aspect of tenderness.

His lips felt like two solid objects just sliding around on your face. They didn’t move in any sort of accordance with yours. There was no push and pull, your lips didn’t mesh perfectly together to form a solitary unit as they moved in unison.

It felt more like his lips were your opponent, putting up an attack and defense play against the actions of your own.

You pulled away, resisting a giggle at his bewildered face. “You’re not so terrible,” you swipe the corner of your mouth, smudged with Spencer’s flavored chapstick, “But it could use some work.”

He was at a loss for words, mouth gaping open as his eyes darted around the room and all over you. Maybe he’d find an explanation for what just happened carved into the walls somewhere or written across your forehead.

What happened was that you kissed him. And he was a little bit bad. Simple as that.

“I-I wasn’t ready!” he stammered, chucking up his hands defensively. He’d process the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend at a later time, right now the bigger concern was the slight cringed look on your face. He sulked and folded his arms.“What was so bad about it?”

“Well,” you scratched the back of your ear, trying to gauge if he’d react well to getting some advice, “my first tip would be to relax your lips.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And don’t think too hard. You should react to what’s happening in the moment, not worrying about what your next move is gonna be.” You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to envision what that would play out like in a real situation. “You wanna try again?” you offered, figuring he’d learn much faster if he was more hands-on about it.

He nodded, and you leaned in close, waiting for him to go for it. His heart quickened under the pressure of performance, eyes screwing shut as he closed the gap. His mouth smashed into yours as he dove in hard. It was toeing on the side of too harsh, but you let that one slide in hopes it was just a byproduct of his nerves.

You had to tap his knee to remind him to relax, and he loosened some of the tension he had in his lips. He slotted his between yours, allowing them to be pliable to your movements and remembering to react, not plan.

He moved his mouth leisurely against yours, trying to match your pressure and pacing. They actually started moving in time with yours at some point. The kiss took on a shape of its own as he started getting out of his head, letting himself enjoy the kiss for what it was in that exact moment.

It was already better than before. Leaps and bounds better. But then he tried to deepen it, building on its intensity but adding more… something into it. You couldn’t even tell what it was he was trying to do.

“Okay, second tip…” you inhaled sharply, pushing him off of you with a palm against his chest. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. “You kinda do this thing like… where you’re blowing air into my mouth?” You scrunched your nose, punctuating your dislike. “That feels weird. Don’t do that. If anything, do the opposite.”

“I’m supposed to suck the air out of your mouth?” His face contorted, voice already slightly exasperated. He barely understood what the air thing was that you claimed he did. He didn’t realize in the process of trying to add pressure to the kiss, he was just forcibly blowing against your mouth.

“Not literally, no.” You laughed a little, rubbing your palm in a comforting pattern on his chest.”But you can use your lips to suck on mine, or my tongue… just nothing involving the exchange of breath. We’re not in CPR training.”

He eased up a little with your joke, adjusting to your advice he gave it another try. After a few moments, he latched onto your bottom lip with his own, sucking it softly into his mouth. “Yeah, like that,” you mumbled against him, voice pitching high in encouragement. He sucked on it with a little more greed, holding it for a second, then eased up, varying the pressure of his movements just like you did before.

You made a mental note to praise him for that at a later time, deciding to instead part your lips to see if he’d venture into further experimentation.

He caught on quickly. He parted them further, prodding his tongue against them as you opened to allow him entry. Just as you started to really enjoy it, he ran his tongue over the inside of your mouth, moving it fast and roughly like he was a washing machine.

“Stop,” you grimaced, tearing away quickly. You had to swipe your hand over your mouth to get rid of the excess saliva that really shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, given how brief the frenching was. “Your tongue is way too aggressive.”

Overwhelmed, he tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated grunt, slapping his hands down to the top of his thighs.

There were too many factors to worry about. He had no idea how you looked at him with a straight face and told him not to think too much when there were a million things he needed to remember all at once; he needed to vary his moves to keep it interesting, but make sure he’s not ruining the flow by changing things up too much, and to be gentle but not timid.

All of this was second nature to you, but it was brand new to Spencer. Could you really blame him for not getting the hang of it right away? You decided to stop your list of critiques short for this round to spare him. He’d get there eventually, but not if he felt discouraged too soon.

“I don’t see why people like it in the first place,” he huffed, his head returning to it’s normal posture. In Spencer’s eyes, there truly wasn’t any appeal to kissing with tongue; it looked sloppy and unnecessary, and as you’d just confirmed, it actually was.

You thought about his statement for a second. There’s a certain allure to it, and you didn’t know how to describe it to him. So instead you cupped his cheeks in both your palms and slid your mouth over his again. As his jaw slacked its tension, you slowly pushed your tongue past his lips and gently pressed it against his own before swirling them together.

You sighed softly into his mouth, running your fingers through his hair and tugging carefully at the ends. He made a small noise against you, something like a whimper, and you swallowed the vibrations of it. As you retreated, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a light, teasing tug. You soothed it again with your lips before releasing it, a proud giggle forming in your chest as Spencer chased after your lips as you broke apart.

“That’s why.” You smirked at the dazed look on his face. His eyelids remained closed longer than necessary, still feeling the ghost of your mouth on his and a tingle where your fingers were in his hair.

“Oh.” His voice came out meek as he slowly came back to reality, brows wrinkling up his forehead as he opened his eyes.

He put both his palms down on the mattress, one laying flat on either side of you, and dove forward to resume the kiss right where you left it. A surprised squeak left you as his mouth collided with yours with an insatiable hunger. You brought one hand back to his hair, and he was a goner.

He unfolded his legs from under himself and shuffled onto his knees, following his hands until he practically crawled into your lap. Each of his legs hooked onto either side of your thighs as he hovered over your lap, leaning his body entirely into yours.

The physics of it didn’t hold up; he’s taller than you are, and his chest was too heavy for you to carry. The balance was off center and it sent you tumbling back onto the mattress, bringing him down with you until his chest laid on yours.

It was the perfect force – the weight of him on top of you. He tasted like peach candy and sour sugar, and you found yourself craving more of it.

You shuffled higher up the mattress, giving him space to stretch out his body as he followed yours. One of his hands found your waist, gripping tightly, while he placed the other on the mattress beside your head, using it to steady himself. Sliding your legs out from under him, you wrapped them on the outside of his hips, using them to pull him closer down to you.

It only broke off in moments when both of you absolutely needed to get air, gasping as you pulled apart for brief reprieve before colliding again. He followed every word of your advice, getting better with each passing second until he exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, passionately tugging the wavy strands to angle him against you and igniting his nerves under your touch. A soft moan leaves him and you’re encouraged to tighten your grip on them. His hips bucked reactively at the sensation, and he quickly pulled back, a slight embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He got too carried away.

You took in his flushed face and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. They’d turned a shade of red brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and it was all you could do not to dive for them again as his tongue sweeped over them, soothing the burning heat you’d left on them.

Before he could apologize for his eagerness, you nudged your nose against his, your smile skimming against his lips. “So what else don’t you know how to do?”

☆

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#spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid smut

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 2 years

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NSFW Headcanons~ The Huntsman

(Not my gif)

(I’m compelled to just start writing posts for all the dumb little men and women I like from the obscure movies I watch. Give ya’ll some horny little recommendations :) )

- The Huntsman is a walking contradiction: a man who oozes sensuality yet can’t hold a conversation without it sounding stilted and poorly rehearsed. He’s strange enough to unnerve the people he approaches yet charming enough to leave a trail of women in his wake.

- I think any conclusion concerning his body count; in sexual terms, is as valid as the next. I think a person could argue that his odd behavior would generally warrant cold feet while another could argue that his tricks are successful enough to lure in a handful of foolish maidens; and I think that both can exist at the same time and be completely right. Virgin or master; neither outcome changes much besides your perception of him.

- Speaking of perception: I think you’d be perfectly aware that you escaping every encounter you have with him is just a matter of luck. I think you’d know how many women have been in your place before and how many of them have been reduced to nothing but hair and clothes and though you’d want to trust him, you’d still be worried you’d befall the same fate, even after being spared time and time again....

- There will be times in the beginning of your relationship where he’ll catch you by the wrist as you prepare to leave and you’ll suddenly feel a surge of anxiety. He’ll write it off as a playful little joke but the genuine threat is still there: the lingering question of “what if he didn’t let go” as you timidly insist you have to get home. It’s a taste of his true self and it’s one you should heed.

- Going down on you is honestly, probably, how he lures you in and convinces you to let your guard down. He’ll get down on his knees in the middle of the woods and do things to you that no man has ever done before: all while telling you to sit back and relax; and asking if you trust him. His skills will seem inhuman but you’re too far gone and too inexperienced to know for sure; and at a certain point you’ll stop caring. You’re a spoiled virgin, I can tell you that much.

- He never automatically expects oral but he enjoys it just as much as the next person and is always pleasantly surprised. He sees your interest in pleasing him as endearing and he likes to encourage you to throw your innocent inhibitions about what is decent and proper aside.

- The foreplay you engage in really just depends on his mood. Sometimes, he feels as though he has all the time in the world to play with and tease you while other times; especially when he’s feeling a bit cross with you, he’ll want to get right down to business; urging you towards the bed and taking off his clothes.

- The Huntsman may let you have the illusion of being in control but you never truly have it. He’s always in charge even when he’s being submissive. Most of the time he’ll be forward and make the first move; being as outwardly dominant as he is on the inside, but other times he’ll allow you to lead the way.

- Although, whenever he is submissive, you’ll feel as though you’re walking on egg shells. And you’d be right: he’s only allowing it because you’re being so sweet to him. He’s letting you have this, letting you fuss over and pamper him and you should never forget that.

- He tends to go slow: making love to you and savoring the moment. He restrains himself for your sake, not wanting to hurt or push you too far; knowing that you’re fragile in comparison. Intimacy and sensuality is his weapon rather than speed or force and it’s always enough for you; regardless of your prior sexual experiences.

- Eye contact is a big thing for him. He wants that intimacy, to have you look at the monster before you and still decide to love him. To watch as he enters you, to watch as he defiles you, to show that you’re caught in his trap and that instead of trying to escape, you’re willingly staying inside it.

- He loves undressing you himself. He’s always very delicate with all your clothing, taking his time and letting the anticipation set in when you want nothing more than for him to rip them apart with his teeth and bare hands.

- He enjoys teasing you; even somewhat babying you: saying things like “my poor little darling” and “look at you ...so worked up”; internally gloating about what he’s done to you. Seeing a girl who knew nothing about temptation before meeting him suddenly overcome with lust and longing; for him and him only, is like a drug.

- He savors the moments when you press against him and kiss his lips so fervently; pouncing on him like you’ve waited to see him all day. He almost always pushes his luck but he just can’t help himself.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh. Say please.”

- If you haven’t noticed already, he does have a bit of an innocence kink. At that point in time, there was enough of it to go around so it was likely that you were inexperienced; especially if you were young and unmarried. He sort of gets off on being able to deceive you easily and corrupt you in any way he pleases.

- He likes seeing you crawling towards him on your hands and knees, still making eye contact with him even though you’re timid from his request. You won’t understand why he likes it, you’ll just know he does and that you’re rewarded for it.

- You in just your stockings is a sight he holds in high regard. Unmarred, delicate flesh: he has to fight the urge not to sink his teeth into your plush little thighs ...it wouldn’t be gentlemanly.

- He usually prefers either a close, tangled limb sort of missionary position or a slow and steady sort of doggy style where he gets to lean back and take all of you in.

- Sex in the woods. You’re pretty much all alone out there and since it’s just about the only place you can meet without arousing suspicion from your rightfully protective parents, it’s pretty common for the two of you to go there for your intimate escapades.

- Another common place is in front of the fire; generally at a cabin he’s taken over after eating the prior residents. He’ll lay down some furs and lower you down upon them; the heat of the fire no match for the heat within you.

- Lots of kisses. It’s how he keeps you occupied and distracted: unless he wants to tease you and let his teeth grow as your mouth presses against his own.

- He’s definitely a chest man. He’ll oftentimes dip his head down and press against yours, his hair tickling your skin as he pumps into you; your whines spurring him on like an animal.

- He loves the loves the scent of himself on you; as well as your own. Just the smell of your pillow or cloak could turn him on and awaken the beast inside of him. It’s such a sweet, soft scent; it makes him hungry: he wants to cover it up with his own so that no other creature could mistake you for anything but his or even just smell it for themselves.

- He dramatically exposed his neck far too much for me to deny him wanting you to kiss and nip at it. I have a feeling that he enjoys being pampered and loved on, and that this would be his preferred form of affection.

- This gentleman, this fine gentleman adores praise. He isn’t ashamed of being a monster but there’s something so rewarding about you calling him good; even if he believes you’re only doing it because he’s deceived you. That’s even more reason for him to feel proud of himself: the fact that he’s acted so convincingly.

- You’ve probably made a comment about his restraint and mild mannered-ness in the bedroom and how you’d expected him to be more ferocious and animalistic and all he did was quirk his lip up and ask “would you prefer me to be”.

- One of his absolute favorite memories is one of the first times you spent the weekend with him in “his” cabin. The two of you lounged around in the nude and sporadically went at it throughout the day and/or night as you lazily laid about. He loved watching you roam around so comfortably; the two of you feeling like you had all the time in the world. It’s the kind of life he aims to have with you once he manages to truly steal you away.

- He’s decently sized: not large but not small either. The good kind of average; if that makes sense.

- I think he has a bit of a breeding kink; though he’d definitely try to keep it a secret until after it was proper for him to express it. He’d prefer finishing inside you, though he wouldn’t do it with the express purpose of getting you pregnant; it would just be a happy little bonus if it did end up happening.

- He’d enjoy snuggling with you afterwards: skin against skin, the feel of your hair and your fingers caressing his torso as you lay your head on his chest. He’d wrap his arms around you and play with your hair, answering little questions of yours as the two of you lay there peacefully.

#the huntsman imagine #the huntsman imagines #the huntsman headcanons #the huntsman headcanon #the company of wolves imagine #the company of wolves imagines #the company of wolves headcanons #the company of wolves headcanon #the company of wolves huntsman #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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speechlessxx · 4 years

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

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

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

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

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

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

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

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

Buy Me A Kofi

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

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

You were taught it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

»————-　⚜　————-«

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

»————-　⚜　————-«

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

»————-　⚜　————-«

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known… but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter’s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

let me know what y’all think

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

About the Adventure: reboot, the likely reason why it exists, the question of target demographic, and whether I would recommend it or not

I think this reboot has been kind of a strange outlier in terms of Digimon anime in general, in terms of...well, just about everything. I also feel like everything surrounding it has kind of been giving us mixed signals as to what the intent and purpose behind the anime is -- well, besides “cashing in on the Adventure brand”, but looking at it more closely, that might be a bit of an oversimplification.

I’m writing this post because, having seen the entire series to the end for myself and thinking very hard about it and what it was trying to do, I decided to put down my thoughts. This is not meant to be a review of what I think was good and bad, but rather, something that I hope will be helpful to those who might be on the fence about whether they want to watch it or not, or those who don’t want to watch/finish it but are curious about what happened, or those who are curious as to why this reboot even exists in the first place, or even maybe just those who did watch it but are interested in others’ thoughts about it. I'm personally convinced that -- especially in an ever-changing franchise like Digimon -- how much you like a given work is dependent on what your personal tastes are to the very end, and thus it’s helpful to understand what kind of expectations you should go in with if you want to watch something.

With all of this said and done, if you want to go in and best enjoy this series, I think it is best to consider this anime as a distinct Digimon series of its own. The relationship to Adventure is only surface-level, and by that I mean it’s very obvious it’s doing things its own thing deliberately without worrying too much about what prior series did. Of course, I think everyone will have varying feelings about using the Adventure branding for something that really isn't Adventure at all, but we are really talking about an in-name-only affair, and something that’s unabashedly doing whatever it wants. So in other words, if you’re going in expecting Adventure, or anything that really resembles Adventure, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. But if you’re able to approach it like yet another distinct Digimon series, and the other aspects of it fit your fancy, you’ll probably be able to enjoy it much better. And, conversely, I think it’s also important to remember that this series seems to have a writing philosophy with a fundamentally different goal from most Digimon series, and since it’s understandable for most long-time Digimon fans to have their tastes built on those prior series, it’s fine and completely understandable that this reboot may not be your cup of tea, for reasons that probably don’t actually have much to do with whether it’s an Adventure reboot or not.

There are no spoilers in the following post. (Although I use some emphatic language for the duration for it, these are mostly just my personal thoughts and how I see the series and the overall situation.)

On what exact relationship to Adventure this series has, and why it’s an “Adventure reboot”

If you ask why they did an Adventure reboot, the easiest answer to come up with is “Adventure milking, because it’s profitable”, but that’s kind of an oversimplification of what the issue is. This is especially when you take into account a key fact that official has been very well aware of since as early as 2006: most kids are too young to have seen Adventure, and therefore have no reason to care about it.

That’s the thing: Adventure milking only works so well on today’s children, and Toei and Bandai know this. This is also the reason that the franchise started going through a bit of a “split” starting in around 2012 (after Xros Wars finished airing), when the video game branch started making more active attempts to appeal to the adults’ fanbase with Re:Digitize and Adventure PSP. (Although they were technically still “kids’ games”, they were very obviously aimed at the adults’ audience as a primary “target”.) The generation that grew up with Adventure and other classic Digimon anime was getting older and older, and targeting that audience would require tailoring products more specifically to them -- ultimately culminating in 2015 and the solidification of “very obviously primarily for adults” media in the form of both games (Cyber Sleuth and Next Order) and anime (tri.). Note that Appmon ended up getting its own 3DS game, but since it was targeted at kids, it seems to have been developed by a completely different pipeline/branch from the aforementioned adults’ games, so even that had a split.

So if we want to talk about full-on nostalgia pandering, that’s already being done in the adults’ branch. In fact, Appmon development specifically said that they felt free to not really care about the adults’ audience because that was tri.’s job. Of course, the hardcore Digimon adults’ fanbase is still keeping an eye on the kids’ shows, and it’s good to not upset them -- and, besides, even if we’re all suffering under the hell of capitalism, people who work in kids’ shows still tend to be very passionate about the content and messages they’re showing the kids, so they still put an effort into making good content that adults can enjoy too. But, nevertheless, adults are still the “periphery demographic”, and a kids’ show is not a success if the kids (who have not seen and do not care about Adventure) are not watching it or buying the toys. Appmon ended up being extremely well-received by the adults’ fanbase, but that all meant nothing since the kids didn’t get into it.

Most kids are not super incredibly discerning about so-called writing quality (it’s not like they don’t at least unconsciously know when something is good, but they’re much less likely to be bothered by little things adults are often bothered by), so there’s a certain degree you have to get their attention if you want things to catch on with them. Critical reception does matter a lot more when we talk about the adults’ audience, but for the kids, the more important part is how much you’ve managed to engage them and how much fun they’re having (especially in regards to the toyline). Moreover, there’s the problem of “momentum”; Digimon’s sister shows of PreCure, Kamen Rider, and Super Sentai have sometimes had really poorly performing shows (critically or financially), but have managed to recover it in successive years to avoid getting cancelled. Digimon never managed to get to that point, with sales nearly dropping to half with Tamers and again with Frontier. So in essence, Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon were all attempts at figuring out what was needed to just get that “kickstart” again -- but things just never lined up for it to work.

So if kids don’t really care about Adventure, why would they do Adventure nostalgia pandering? The answer is one that official has actually openly stated multiple times: they want to have parents watch it together with their children. Both Seki and Kinoshita said this in regards to watching the reaction to Kizuna, and it was also stated outright as a goal for the reboot, but, believe it or not, there’s reports of this having been stated back as early as Savers (followed by an admission that maybe 2006 was a little too early for people who grew up with Adventure to be old enough to have their own kids). So the little nostalgia references in Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon aren't really meant to magically turn the series into Adventure as much as they’re supposed to be flags waved at the parents to get them to pay attention, so that they can introduce their kids to Digimon and watch it together with them, until the kids eventually take an interest on their own and they don’t need to rely on that kind of standby as much. (I say “as much” because of course PreCure, Rider, and Sentai all are still very indulgent in their anniversary references, but they’re not nearly as reliant on it to the point of life-and-death.)

This is also why Kizuna’s existence and release date two months prior to the reboot is a huge factor in this. The reason tri. wouldn’t have done it is that it never actually reached a properly “mainstream” audience. It’s a huge reason I keep emphasizing the fact that tri. and Kizuna are two separate things with completely different production and release formats, because tri. being a limited OVA screening released in six parts over three years means that, although it was a moderate financial success that did better than the franchise’s other niche products, in the end, it didn’t actually reach the “extremely casual” audience very well. We, as the “hardcore Internet fanbase”, all know people who watched all six parts, and the difference between tri. and Kizuna’s release formats doesn’t hit us as hard because of international distribution circumstances, but even on our end, if you talk to your casual friends who barely remember anything about Digimon except what they saw on TV twenty years ago, you will almost never find anyone who got past Part 1, maybe 2 at most. (That’s before we even get into the part where a good chunk of them got turned off at the character design stage for being too different.) Sticking with a full six-part series over three years is a commitment, and if you’re not someone with a certain level of loyalty to the franchise, you aren’t as likely to put aside the time for it!

Kizuna, on the other hand, was a full-on theatrical movie with full marketing campaign that was aimed at that extremely casual mainstream audience, including a lot of people who hadn’t even heard of tri. (due to it being too niche) or hadn’t bothered to commit to watching something so long, and thus managed to “hype up” a lot of adults and get them in a Digimon mood. (Critical reception issues aside, this is also presumably a huge reason Kizuna isn’t all that reliant on tri.’s plot; Adventure and 02 both averaged at around 11% of the country watching it when it first aired, but the number of people who even saw tri. much less know what happened in it is significantly lower, so while you can appeal to a lot of people if you’re just targeting the 11%, you'll lock them out if you’re overly reliant on stuff a lot of them will have never seen in the first place.) We’re talking the kind of super-casual who sees a poster for Kizuna, goes “oh I remember Digimon!”, casually buys a ticket for the movie, likes it because it has characters they remember and the story is feelsy, and then two months later an anime that looks like the Digimon they recognize is on Fuji TV, resulting in them convincing their kid to watch it together with them because they’re in a Digimon mood now, even though the actual contents of the anime are substantially different from the original.

So, looking back at the reboot:

There’s a huge, huge, huge implication that the choice to use Adventure branding was at least partially to get Fuji TV to let them have their old timeslot back. Neither Xros Wars nor Appmon were able to be on that old timeslot, presumably because Fuji TV had serious doubts about their profitability (perhaps after seeing Savers not do very well). This isn’t something that hits as hard for us outside Japan who don’t have to feel the impact of this anyway, but it’s kind of a problem if kids don’t even get the opportunity to watch the show in the first place. While there’s been a general trend of moving to video-on-demand to the point TV ratings don’t really have as much impact as they used to, I mean...it sure beats 6:30 in the morning, goodness. (Note that a big reason PreCure, Rider, and Sentai are able to enjoy the comfortable positions they’re in is that they have a very luxurious 8:30-10 AM Sunday block on TV Asahi dedicated to them.)

Since we’re talking about “the casual mainstream”, this means that this kind of ploy only works with something where a casual person passing by can see names and faces and take an interest. This is why it has to be Adventure, not 02 or Tamers or whatnot; 02 may have had roughly similar TV ratings to Adventure and fairly close sales figures back in 2000, but the actual pop culture notability disparity in this day and age is humongous (think about the difference in pop culture awareness between Butter-Fly and Target). 02, Tamers, and all can do enough to carry “adults’ fandom” products and merch sales at DigiFes, and the adults’ branch of the franchise in general, but appealing to the average adult buying toys for the kids is a huge difference, and a big reason that, even if they’re clearly starting to acknowledge more of the non-Adventure series these days, it’s still hard to believe they’re going to go as far as rebooting anything past Adventure -- or, more accurately, hard to believe they’ll be able to get the same impact using names and faces alone.

This advertising with the Adventure brand goes beyond just the anime -- we’re talking about the toyline that has the involved character faces plastered on them, plus all of the ventures surrounding them that Bandai pretty obviously carefully timed to coincide with this. One particularly big factor is the card game, which is doing really, really well right now, to the point it’s even started gaining an audience among people who weren’t originally Digimon fans. Part of it is because the game’s design is actually very good and newcomer-friendly, but also...nearly every set since the beginning came with reboot-themed Tamer Cards, which means that, yes, those cards with the Adventure names and faces were helping lure people into taking an interest in the game. Right now, the game is doing so well and has gained such a good reputation that it probably doesn’t need that crutch anymore to keep going as long as the game remains well-maintained, but I have no doubt the initial “Adventure” branding was what helped it take off, and its success is most likely a huge pillar sustaining the franchise at the current moment.

Speaking of merch and toys, if you look closely, you might notice that Bandai decided to go much, much more aggressively into the toy market with this venture than they ever did with Savers, Xros Wars, or Appmon (Appmon was probably the most aggressive attempt out of said three). They put out a lot more merch and did a lot more collaborative events to engage the parents and children, and, presumably, the reason they were able to do this was because they were able to push into those outlets with the confidence the Adventure brand would let them be accepted (much like with Fuji TV). Like with the card game, the important part was getting their “foot in the door” so that even if it stopped being Adventure after a fashion, they’d still have all of those merchandising outlets -- after all, one of the first hints we ever got of Ghost Game’s existence was a July product listing for its products replacing the reboot’s in a gachapon set, so we actually have evidence of certain product pipelines being opened by the reboot’s precedent. (The word 後番組 literally means “the TV program that comes after”, so it’s pretty obvious this was intended for Ghost Game; in other words, the reboot’s existence helped ensure there be a “reservation” for this kind of product to be made.)

I think one important thing to keep in mind is that Toei and Bandai have as much of a stake in avoiding rehashing for their kids’ franchises as we do. Even if you look at this from a purely capitalistic perspective, because of how fast the “turnover” is for the kids’ audience, sustaining a franchise for a long time off rehashing the same thing over and over is hard, and even moreso when it involves a twenty-year-old anime that said kids don’t even know or remember. Ask around about popular long-running Japanese kids’ franchises and you’ll notice they practically rely on being able to comfortably change things up every so often, like PreCure/Rider/Sentai shuffling every year, or Yu-Gi-Oh! having a rotation of different series and concepts, or the struggles that franchises that don’t do this have to deal with. And, after all, for all people are cynical about Toei continuing to milk Adventure or any of the other older series at every opportunity, as far as the kids’ branch of the franchise goes, this is only capable of lasting to a certain extent; if they tried keeping this up too long, even the adults and kids would get bored, and there is some point it’ll be easier to try and make products directly targeted at the kids’ audience instead of having to rely on the parents to ease them into it.

So it’s completely understandable that the moment they secured a proper audience with the reboot and finished up their first series with this, they decided to take the risk with Ghost Game right after. And considering all that’s happened, this is still a risk -- they’re changing up a lot (even if not as much as Appmon), and there’s a chance that the audience they’ve gathered is going to shoot down again because they’ve changed so much and they no longer have the Adventure branding as a “crutch” to use -- but they’re taking it anyway instead of going for something at least slightly more conventional.

Which means that, yes, there’s a possibility this will all explode in their face, because the Adventure branding is that huge of a card they’re about to lose. But at the very, very least, Ghost Game is coming in with the “momentum” and advantage that Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon all didn’t have: a brand currently in the stage of recovery, all of the merchandising and collaborative pipelines the reboot and Kizuna opened up, a fairly good timeslot, and a premise somewhat more conventional than Xros Wars and Appmon (I’m saying this as someone who likes both: their marketing definitely did not do them many favors). There are still a lot of risks it’s playing here, and it’s possible it won’t be the end of more Adventure or reboot brand usage to try to keep that momentum up even as we go into Ghost Game, but it’s the first time in a long while we’ve had something to stand on.

Okay, so that’s out of the way. But the end result is that we now have 67 episodes of an Adventure “reboot” that actually doesn’t even resemble Adventure that much at all, which seems to have achieved its goal of flagging down attention so it can finally going back to trying new things. This series exists, we can’t do anything about the fact it exists, the period where its own financial performance actually mattered is coming to an end anyway, and we, as a fanbase of adults hanging out on the Internet keeping up with the franchise as a whole, have to figure out how each of us feels about this. So what of it?

About the contents of the reboot itself

One thing I feel hasn’t been brought up as a potential topic very much (or, at least, not as much as I feel like it probably should be) is that the reboot seems to be actively aimed at a younger target audience than the original Adventure. It hasn’t been stated outright, but we actually have quite a bit of evidence pointing towards this.

Let’s take a moment and discuss what it even means to have a different target audience. When you’re a kid, even one or two years’ difference is a big deal, and while things vary from kid to kid, generally speaking, it helps to have an idea of what your “overall goal” is when targeting a certain age group, since at some point you have to approximate the interests of some thousands of children. Traditionally, Digimon has been aimed at preteens (10-11 year olds); of course, many will testify to having seen the series at a younger age than that, but the "main” intended target demographic was in this arena. (Also, keep in mind that this is an average; a show aimed at 10-11 year olds could be said to be more broadly aimed at 7-13 year olds, whereas one aimed at 7-8 year olds would be more broadly aimed at something like 5-10 year olds.) Let’s talk a bit about what distinguishes children’s shows (especially Japanese kids’ shows) between this “preteen demographic” and things aimed at a much younger audience (which I’ll call “young child demographic”, something like the 7-8 year old arena):

With children who are sufficiently young, it’s much, much more difficult to ensure that a child of that age will be able to consistently watch TV at the same hour every week instead of being subject to more variable schedules, often set by their parents, meaning that it becomes much more difficult to have a series that relies on you having seen almost every episode to know what’s going on. For somewhat older kids, they’re more likely to be able to pick and pursue their own preferences (the usual “got up early every week for this show”). This means that shows targeted at a young child demographic will be more likely to be episodic, or at least not have a complex dramatic narrative that requires following the full story, whereas shows targeted at a preteen audience are more willing to have a dramatic narrative with higher complexity. This does not mean by any shake of the imagination that a narrative is incapable of having any kind of depth or nuance -- the reboot’s timeslot predecessor GeGeGe no Kitaro got glowing reviews all over the board for being an episodic story with tons of depth -- nor that characters can’t slowly develop over the course of the show. But it does raise the bar significantly, especially because it prevents you from making episodes that require you to know what happened in previous ones.

The thing is, the original Adventure and the older Digimon series in general didn’t have to worry about this, and, beyond the fact that their narratives very obviously were not episodic, we actually have concrete evidence of the disparity: Digimon has often been said to be a franchise for “the kids who graduated from (outgrew) a certain other monster series”. Obviously, they’re referring to Pokémon -- which does have the much younger target demographic. That’s why its anime is significantly more episodic and less overall plot-oriented, and Digimon wasn’t entirely meant to be a direct competitor to it; rather, it was hoping to pick up the preteens who’d enjoyed Pokémon at a younger age but were now looking for something more catered to them. This is also why, when Yo-kai Watch came into the game in 2014, that was considered such a huge direct competitor to Pokémon, because it was aiming for that exact same demographic, complete with episodic anime. When Yo-kai Watch moved to its Shadowside branch in 2017, it was specifically because they had concerns about losing audience and wanted to appeal to the kids who had been watching the original series, but since they were preteens now, they adopted a more dramatic and emotionally complex narrative that would appeal to that audience instead. So you can actually see the shift in attempted target demographic in real time.

Adventure through Frontier were aimed at 10-11 year olds, and here’s the interesting part: those series had the protagonists hover around the age of said target audience. We actually have it on record that Frontier had a direct attempt to keep most of the kids as fifth-graders for the sake of appealing to the audience, and so that it would be relatable to them. You can also see this policy of “matching the target audience’s age” in other series at the time; Digimon’s sister series Ojamajo Doremi (also produced by Seki) centered around eight-year-olds. Nor was Seki the only one to do this; stepping outside Toei for a bit, Medabots/Medarot had its protagonist Ikki be ten years old, much like Digimon protagonists, and the narrative was similarly dramatic. The thing is, that’s not how it usually works, and that’s especially not really been how it’s worked for the majority of kids’ series since the mid-2000s. In general, and especially now, it’s usually common to have the protagonists of children’s media be slightly older than the target age group. This has a lot of reasons behind it -- partially because kids are looking to have slightly older characters as a model for what to follow in their immediate future, and partially because “the things you want to teach the kids” are often more realistically reflected if the kids on screen have the right level of independence and capacity for emotional contemplation. Case in point: while everyone agrees the Adventure through Frontier characters are quite relatable, it’s a common criticism that the level of emotional insight sometimes pushes the boundary of what’s actually believable for 10-11 year olds...

...which is presumably why, with the exception of this reboot, every Digimon TV series since, as of this writing, started shifting to middle school students. That doesn’t mean they’re aiming the series at middle school kids now, especially because real-life 13-15 year olds are usually at the stage where they pretend they’ve outgrown kids’ shows (after all, that’s why there’s a whole term for “middle school second year syndrome”), but more that the narrative that they want to tell is best reflected by kids of that age, especially when we’re talking characters meant to represent children from the real world and not near-immortal youkai like Kitaro. In fact, the Appmon staff outright said that Haru was placed in middle school because the story needed that level of independence and emotional sensitivity, which is interesting to consider in light of the fact that Appmon’s emotional drama is basically on par with that of Adventure through Frontier’s. So in other words, the kind of high-level drama endemic to Adventure through Frontier is would actually normally be more on par with what you’d expect for kids of Haru’s age.

But at this point, the franchise is at a point of desperation, and you can see that, as I said earlier, Appmon was blatantly trying to be one of those “have its cake and eat it too” series by having possibly one of the franchise’s most dramatic storylines while also having some of the most unsubtle catchphrases and bright colors it has to offer. Moreover, one thing you might notice if you look closely at Appmon: most of its episodes are self-contained. Only a very small handful of episodes are actively dependent on understanding what happened in prior episodes to understand the conflict going on in the current one -- it’s just very cleverly structured in a way you don’t really notice this as easily. So as you can see, the more desperate the franchise has gotten to get its kids’ audience back, the more it has to be able to grab the younger demographic and not lock them out as much as possible -- which means that it has to do things that the original series didn’t have to worry about at all.

Having seen the reboot myself, I can say that it checks off a lot of what you might expect if you tried to repurpose something based on Adventure (and only vaguely based on it, really) into a more episodic story that doesn’t require you to follow the whole thing, and that it has to break down its story into easy-to-follow bits. In fact, there were times where I actually felt like it gave me the vibes of an educational show that would usually be expected for this demographic, such as repeated use of slogans or fun catchphrases for young kids to join in on. That alone means that even if the “base premise” is similar to the original Adventure, this already necessitates a lot of things that have to be very different, because Adventure really cannot be called episodic no matter how you slice it.

Not only that, even though the target audience consideration has yet to be outright stated, we also have interviews on hand that made it very clear, from the very beginning, what their goals with the reboot were: they wanted the kids to be able to enjoy a story of otherworldly exploration during the pandemic, they wanted cool action sequences, and they wanted to get the adults curious about what might be different from the original. Note that last part: they actively wanted this series to be different from the original, because the differences would engage parents in spotting the differences, and the third episode practically even goes out of its way to lay that message down by taking the kids to a familiar summer camp, only to have it pass without incident and go “ha, you thought, but nope!” Moreover -- this is the key part -- “surprising” people who were coming from the original series was a deliberate goal they had from the very beginning. They’ve stated this outright -- they knew older fans were watching this! They were not remotely shy about stating that they wanted to surprise returning viewers with unexpected things! They even implied that they wanted it to be a fun experience for older watchers to see what was different and what wasn’t -- basically, it’s a new show for their kids who never saw the original Adventure, while the parents are entertained by a very different take on something that seems ostensibly familiar.

On top of that, the head writer directly cited V-Tamer as an influence -- and if you know anything about V-Tamer, it’s really not that much of a character narrative compared to what we usually know of Digimon anime, and is mostly known for its battle tactics and action sequences (but in manga form). In other words, we have a Digimon anime series that, from day one, was deliberately made to have a writing philosophy and goal that was absolutely not intended to be like Adventure -- or any Digimon TV anime up to this point -- in any way. And that’s a huge shock for us as veterans, who have developed our tastes and expectations based on up to seven series of Digimon that were absolutely not like this at all. But for all it's worth, the circumstances surrounding its production and intent don't seem to quite line up with what the most common accusations against it are:

That it’s a rehash of Adventure: It really isn’t. It’s also blatantly apparent it has no intention of being so. The points that are in common: the character names and rough character designs, some very minimal profile details for said characters, Devimon having any particular foil position to Angemon, the use of Crests to represent personal growth, the premise of being in the Digital World and...that’s it! Once those points are aside, it’s really hard to say that the series resembles Adventure any more than Frontier or Xros Wars resembles Adventure (which are also “trapped in another world” narratives) -- actually, there are times the series resembles those two more than the original Adventure, which many have been quick to point out. The majority of things you can make any kind of comparison to basically drop off by the end of the first quarter or so, and trying to force a correlation is basically just that: you’d have to try forcing the comparison. The plot, writing style, and even the lineup of enemies shown just go in a completely different direction after that. So in the end, the base similarities can be said to be a marketing thing; if I want to criticize this series, I don’t think “lack of creativity” would actually be something I would criticize it for. (Of course, you’re still welcome to not be a huge fan of how they’re still guilty of using Adventure’s name value to market something that is not actually Adventure. We’re all gonna have mixed feelings on that one.)

That they don’t understand or remember Adventure’s appeal: Unlikely. All of the main staff has worked on character-based narratives before, which have been very well-praised while we’re at it. The producer, Sakurada Hiroyuki, was an assistant producer on the original series, and I would like to believe he probably remembers at least a thing or two about what they were doing with the original series...but, also, he’s the producer of Xros Wars, which definitely had its own individuality and style, and, moreover, was more of a character narrative that people generally tend to expect from Digimon anime. (Still a bit unconventional, and it has its own questions of personal taste, but a lot of people have also pointed out that this reboot has a lot in common with Xros Wars in terms of its writing tone and its emphasis on developing Digital World resident Digimon moreso than the human characters.) All signs point to the idea they could make a character narrative like Adventure if they really wanted to. It’s just, they don’t want to do that with this reboot, so they didn’t.

That they misinterpreted or misremembered the Adventure characters: There’s been accusations of said characters being written in a way that implies misinterpretation or lack of understanding of the original characters, but the thing is, while I definitely agree they have nowhere near the depth of the original ones, there are points that seem to be deliberate changes. (At some points, they’re actually opposites of the original, and certain things that operate as some very obscure references -- for instance, Sora complaining about having to sit in seiza -- seem to also be deliberate statements of going in a different direction.) The lack of human character depth or backstory doesn’t seem to be out of negligence, but rather that this story doesn’t want to be a character narrative to begin with -- after all, we’re used to seven series of Digimon that are, but there are many, many kids’ anime, or even stories in general, where the story is more about plot or action than it is completely unpacking all of its characters’ heads. In this case, this reboot does seem to have characters that are taking cues from or are “inspired by” the original, but, after all, it’s an alternate universe and has no obligation to adhere to the original characters’ backgrounds, so it stands to reason that it’d take liberties whenever it wanted. (Again, the head writer outright stated that he based the reboot’s Taichi more on V-Tamer Taichi than the original Adventure anime Taichi. He knows there’s a difference!) Even more intriguingly, the series actually avoids certain things that are common misconceptions or pigeonholes that would normally be done by the mainstream -- for instance, the Crest of Light (infamously one of the more abstract ones in the narrative) is fully consistent with Adventure’s definition of it as “the power of life”, and, if I dare say so myself, Koushirou’s characterization (emphasizing his relationship with “knowledge” and his natural shyness) arguably resembles the original far more than most common fan reductions of his character that overemphasize his computer skills over his personal aptitude. In other words, I think the staff does know what happened in the original Adventure -- they just actively don’t want to do what Adventure did, even if it’s ostensibly a reboot.

That it’s soulless or that there’s no passion in its creation: Well, this is subjective, and in the end I’m not a member of the staff to tell you anything for sure, but there are definitely a lot of things in this anime that don’t seem like they’d be the byproduct of uninspired creation or lack of passion. It’s just that those things are all not the kinds of things that we, as Digimon veterans, have come to develop a taste for and appreciate in Digimon anime. That is to say, there is an incredible amount of thought and detail put into representing Digimon null canon (i.e. representing special attacks and mechanics), the action sequences are shockingly well-animated in ways that put most prior Digimon anime to shame, and the series has practically been making an obvious attempt to show off as many Digimon (creatures) that haven’t traditionally gotten good franchise representation as they can. Or sometimes really obscure “meta fanservice” references that only make sense to the really, really, really, really hardcore longtime Digimon fan (for instance, having an episode centered around Takeru and Opossummon, because Takeru’s voice actress Han Megumi voiced Airu in Xros Wars). If you follow any of the animators on Twitter, they seem to be really actively proud of their work on it, and franchise creators Volcano Ota and Watanabe Kenji seem to be enjoying themselves every week...so basically, we definitely have creators passionate about having fun with this, it’s just that all of it is being channeled here, not the character writing.

So in the end, you can basically see that this series is basically the epitome of desperately pulling out all of the stops to make sure this series lands with the actual target demographic of children, dammit, and gets them into appreciating how cool these fighting monsters are and how cool it would be if they stuck with them even into a series that’s not Adventure. The Adventure branding and names to lure in the parents, the straightforward and easy-to-understand action-oriented narrative so that kids will think everything is awesome and that they’ll like it even when the story changes, and the merchandise and collab events booked everywhere so that they can all be reused for the next series too...because, remember, they failed with that during Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon (I mean, goodness, you kind of have to admire their persistence, because a ton of other kids’ franchises failing this many times would have given up by now), so it’s a bit unsurprising that they went all the way to get the kids’ attention at the expense of a lot of things that would attract veterans, especially since the veterans already have a well-developed adults’ pipeline to cater to them. This does also mean that this series is more likely to come off as a 67-episode toy commercial than any previous Digimon series, but it’s not even really the toys as much as they’re trying to sell the entire franchise and the actual monsters in the hopes that they’ll stick with it even when the narrative changes.

Nevertheless, here we are. The series is over. Ghost Game -- which, as of this writing, is looking to be much more of a conventional Digimon narrative, complete with older cast, obviously more dramatic atmosphere, and pretty much everything surrounding its PR -- is on its way, presumably thanks to the success of this endeavor. It’s hard to gauge it; we have it on record that they also intend it to be episodic, but remember that this doesn’t necessarily prevent it from having an overall dramatic plot or nuanced drama (especially since the abovementioned Appmon and Kitaro were perfectly capable of pulling off this balance). Nevertheless, it seems to be a lot more of the conventional kind of Digimon narrative we usually expect, so, as for us, adult long-time fans of the Digimon franchise (many of whom don’t have kids anyway), what exactly should we make of this? Well, as far as “supporting the franchise” goes, you’ll get much more progress supporting Ghost Game than the reboot; I highly doubt view counts and merch sales relative to an already-finished series will do nearly as much for the franchise’s health as much as the currently airing series, and, besides, it’d probably do us all a favor to support the endeavor that’s actually new and fresh. So when it comes to a “past” series like this, it’s all just going to come down to a question of personal preference and taste: is this a series you, personally, want to watch, and would you find it entertaining?

For some of you, it’s possible that it just won’t be your cup of tea at all -- and since, like I said, the majority of us here have based our expectations and preferences on up to seven series of Digimon that were not like this, that’s also perfectly fine, and in that case I don’t actually recommend you watch this. Of course, I’ve never thought that it was ever fair to expect a Digimon fan to have seen all of the series released to date; the more series we get, the more inhumane of a demand that’ll become, and I think this franchise becoming successful enough to have so many series that most people won’t have seen it all is a good thing. (It’s actually kind of alarming that the percentage of people who have seen it all is so high, because it means the franchise has failed to get much of an audience beyond comparatively hardcore people who committed to it all the way.) But I think, especially in this case, with a series for which adult fans like us were probably lowest on the priority list due to the sheer amount of desperation going on here, it’s fine to skip it, and if you’re someone who lives by a need for character depth or emotionally riveting narrative, the fact this series is (very unabashedly and unashamedly) mostly comprised of episodic stories and action sequences means you won’t have missed much and probably won’t feel too left out of any conversations going forward. That’s before we even get into the part where it’s still completely understandable to potentially have mixed feelings or resentment about the overuse of the Adventure brand for something like this, especially if Adventure is a particularly important series to you.

But for some of you out there, it might still be something you can enjoy on its own merits. I’ve seen people who were disappointed by the limited degree of Digimon action sequences in the past or the fact that the series has gotten overly fixated on humans, and had an absolute ball with the reboot because it finally got to represent parts of the franchise they felt hadn’t been shown off as well. “Fun” is a perfectly valid reason to enjoy something. It’s also perfectly possible to be someone who can enjoy character narratives like the prior Digimon series but also enjoy something that’s more for being outlandish and fun and has cool Digital World concepts and visuals -- and, like I said, it does not let up on that latter aspect at all, so there’s actually potential for a huge feast in that regard. I think as long as you don’t expect it to be a character narrative like Adventure -- which will only set you up for disappointment, because it’s not (and made very clear since even the earliest episodes and interviews that it had no intention of being one) -- it’s very possible to enjoy it for what it is, and for what it does uniquely.

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure reboot #digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure psi #shihameta

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

#maribat #daminette #maridami #mgi trope tussle #mgi- server event #enemies to lovers #speedrun #i #like a dumbass challenged myself to use three prompts and i delivered #i hope #i hope yall enjoy #tumblr do me a solid #dont hide my posts #please #im begging #ml x dc #mlb x dc #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

sugar sugar - the planning 3.0

Summary: Someone the engaged couple both didn’t expect, is coming back into their lives

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

Warnings: Light mentions of an argument. Mentions of hospital, cock warming (it’s becoming their thing now) and some rough sex (spanking, anal play, vibrators - the whole deal)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist // Sugar Sugar the wedding Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

March 1st 7 p.m.

Work has been killing Henry lately. He grows more and more tired and to my own surprise, he is even in a bad mood every now and then, a rarity when it comes to Henry. He hates talking about what is bothering him and I hate having to pry.

But it has been enough. I don’t like the fact he continues to lock himself in his office at work and I decide to surprise him. He always likes surprises, especially these ones I arranged myself.

I barge into his office and I see… He is actually taking a nap? That’s new. He only takes naps at home, with his hands slipped underneath my shirt, his head resting on my chest. His eyes flutter open, ready to scold anyone who came in, until he realizes it’s just me. ‘Thought I locked the elevator,’ he says, ‘made it unavailable.’

‘I have a surprise for you,’ I say, as I walk up to him and ignoring the fact that he might’ve made it unavailable for me as well to come up here. He probably didn’t mean it like that.

‘Okay, what is it?’

I hop on an empty corner of his desk. ‘I made reservations for us at the Plaza and afterwards, you and I can do all sorts of things in all sorts of compromising positions, if you know what I mean.’

Henry frowns, the complete opposite reaction I was expecting. ‘I can’t, baby.’

‘Why not?’ I ask him. ‘I checked your schedule and it’s all free. You have time and you should take time. You’ve been working really hard.’

‘I know, but I can’t. I have too much to do here.’

I don’t understand. He has been working non stop this week and he still doesn’t have time? He always makes time for me, for us. ‘It’s just one night, Henry,’ I try again.

‘I already told you that I can’t.’

Oh, he is in a mood? Never did he sound so… Flat and borderline annoyed when he is talking to me.

‘Oh,’ I say, not really sure how to handle this type of disappointment. ‘Sure?’

‘Damn it, Becky. Yes, I’m sure. I have tons of work to do and I cannot afford to take a break now! Some people actually have tons of work to do.’

Okay, he is mad at me now, something I totally didn’t deserve. I think I didn’t deserve it, I’m not even sure right now. Maybe this was too much? Yeah, it was too much. I shouldn’t have done that. ‘Well, excuse me for trying to do something nice for you,’ I say, sliding off his desk. ‘Good luck with work.’

‘Are you mad?’ he asks me.

He has some guts. Yes, I’m mad. ‘No, why on earth would I be?’ I ask in a petty tone, as I walk backwards towards the elevator. ‘Bye Henry, hope you finish your work.’

‘Baby, wait,’ he says, but I don’t listen. With large strides I near the elevator and get in, not even looking at him anymore. As the doors slide shut, I grab my phone and send both Genevieve and Viola a text.

Becky: You girls want to spend the evening at the Plaza?

Genevieve: Is that even a question?

Viola: When?

Becky: Thirty minutes?

Genevieve: I’ll be there in ten.

✤ ✤ ✤

Genevieve, Viola and I are sitting in the Plaza, the three of us looking over the city, as we enjoy the view. Well, they are enjoying the view. I keep on thinking about Henry. He never snaps at me like that, just like he never calls me by my name. It’s always sweetheart, darling or my favorite: baby girl. For him to call me ‘Becky’ means I did something wrong, right? Was I out of line? Should I have checked with him? I mean, surprises are meant to surprise, so I shouldn’t have told him, right?

My brain is working overtime, unable to actually enjoy hanging out with my friends.

‘Earth to Becky,’ Viola says, nudging my side. I look up from my wine glass. ‘Honey, you’re still thinking about you and Henry? It’s just a little set back, nothing too bad.’

‘Oh my,’ Genevieve says, ‘are you that disgusting type of couple that never fight? I fight with Greg all the time.’

‘We know,’ Viola butts in. ‘Come on, Gen, you know that Becky doesn’t do well with fighting. Besides, Henry is the type of man that is above pointless fights with his fiancée. Becky, what can we do for you?’

‘I don’t know. Cancel the wedding?’

Genevieve chokes on her drink. ‘For heaven’s sake, Becky, please tell me that is a joke. I swear, if you are going to cancel, I will kill you.’

I glare at her. ‘It may have been a poorly misplaced joke and a total overreaction from my side. Sorry.’

She takes a breath out of utter belief. ‘Don’t do that. I can take jokes about a lot of things, but not our wedding day.’

‘My wedding day, Gen. I’m the one getting married.’

She snorts. ‘Okay,’ she chuckles, rolling her eyes as if she cannot possibly believe that I just called it my wedding, instead of ours. ‘Anyways, I actually got a call from the bridal shop. The bridesmaids dresses are gonna be done at the end of the month, so make sure you can join us for the final fitting.’ Genevieve lets out a squeal. ‘Ah, I’m so excited. You know what comes after the wedding?’

‘Honeymoon?’ Viola and I ask.

‘Yes, that too, but also kids. I think that we should get at least once get pregnant together, because that is such a cute friendship thing for us to do.’

I don’t know if I can handle being pregnant and dealing with Gen’s hormonal mood swings, but I keep those words to myself.

‘Since our little baby factory is probably gonna have a few, Viola and I will have time enough to get it right.’

‘Do you have to call me a baby factory?’ I ask Genevieve. ‘I say once that a large family is okay for me and all of the sudden I’m a baby factory.’

‘I mean, you’re having at least two and with the way you guys are at it, there is a chance his little soldiers will find their way multiple times. One way or another.’

‘Stop talking,’ I say to Genevieve, as blood rises to my cheeks.

Viola tries to contain her laughter, but fails miserably. ‘Are you finally gonna tell her?’

Now I’m confused. ‘Tell me what?’

‘A few months back I kinda walked in on the two of you.’

Genevieve could’ve literally told me that she was gonna be president of name a country and I wouldn’t be as surprised as I am now. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, you left your keys at my place, so I figured I would bring them to you. However when I walked in, I was met with loud moans and skin slapping.’

Oh, no, I want to die.

‘It was really hilarious,’ she continues, ‘because you were on the back rest of the couch and let’s just say that you have a respectable boob size, you two kiss hella sloppy and Henry’s ass naked is delicious.’

I look at my glass of wine and gulp it all down, hoping that drinking my embarrassment and humiliation away would make the situation less awful.

It’s not working.

‘I kinda wished you never told me this,’ I mumble.

Viola finally bursts out into the loud laughter I was expecting from her a few moments ago. ‘This is gold, I wished I had this reaction on video.’

Genevieve chuckles. ‘So yeah, when I say you two are at it like bunnies, I’m not lying.’

✤ ✤ ✤

When I arrive back at the apartment, I almost forgot about the little situation Henry and I got ourselves in. Genevieve and Viola always know the exact things to tell me that makes me forget about a lot. Seeing Henry sitting on the couch, clearly beating himself up, almost makes me feel sorry for him, however I decide to be a petty bitch.

He really did hurt my feelings.

I walk straight to the kitchen and despite me hearing him follow me, I disregard my instinct and don’t turn towards him.

‘Becky,’ he says, his tone soft and slightly unsure. Him calling out my name in a tone like this, is an indication he is aware of the thin ice he is skating on.

‘Mhm?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for? You were busy and I was intruding.’ I let the tea bag soak for a few moments. ‘You know, Genevieve, Viola and I had a great time together,’ I continue. ‘I arranged amazing seats at the Plaza. It had a view over the Hudson and we saw a lot of fairies.’ I know those are his favorite spots and he always tells me that one day he’ll take me on a fairy. ‘Never been on a fairy before.’ That’s a jab I knew would hurt the most. Damn, I’m awful. With the mug in my hand, I turn around, to see that Henry is looking slightly uncomfortable. ‘How was work? Did you finish it?’

He shakes his head.

Don’t say it, Becky. ‘Oh, why not?’ Damn it, Becky.

‘You serious?’ he asks. ‘We had an argument.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Henry. It wasn’t an argument. You were working and I had some poor planning. A small misunderstanding. Happens to all the couples some day.’

He sighs. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that tone,’ he says. ‘You were right, I could’ve needed a break. Work has been killing these last few weeks and I… I keep convincing myself I can do it all…’ He leans against the kitchen island and folds his arms. ‘Truth is, we lost some investors and I’ve been trying to rectify the situation. It’s just that it’s not working.’

Oh, I didn’t know that. Now I feel sorry for being so bitchy to him. ‘I see,’ I mumble. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ he says.

‘You understand that I can read you like a book, right?’ I ask him. ‘Henry, I’m gonna be your wife, I know when something is bothering you.’

‘I know and to take it out on you, wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.’

I nod, placing the mug on the counter. ‘I’m sorry too.’

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For being petty and inconsiderate of your time. I shouldn’t have just surprised you like that. I know you’re busy.’

‘But never too busy for you. You did everything right. Checked my schedules, arranged it at a time where I barely have anything to do. It was the perfect surprise. Having dinner with you at the Plaza is one of my favorite places to have dinner with you. Staring at those fairies is what we do.’ He carefully approaches, still unsure whether or not we’re on the same page. ‘You have nothing to apologize for. The only one who was at fault was me.’

I grab him by his tie and pull him in a hug, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He nuzzles his face in my neck, whispering soft apologies.

‘It’s all good,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for being petty.’

‘No, no, no, don’t be. I deserved that one. Especially after the tone I used on you.’ He pulls back a little and presses a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘How about I take you to dinner tomorrow night?’

‘Sounds good. But you have to call this time,’ I say.

Henry raises his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You made the reservations yourself?’

I nod. ‘Hence the reason I might got a little bit extra defensive.’

He smiles at me, before giving me a kiss. ‘I’m so proud of you, baby. Practice makes perfect.’

‘I know,’ I say with a soft smile on my lips. ‘We’re good again?’

‘More than good,’ he chuckles. He lifts me on the counter and stands in between my legs. ‘How was it with Genevieve and Viola?’

‘Good,’ I say, ‘just discovered that Genevieve once walked in on us having sex.’

His eyes enlarge. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ I say. ‘She told me I have a respectable boob size, we kiss sloppy and that your naked ass looks really good.’

He lets out a nervous chuckle. ‘Your boobs are perfect,’ he says and I slap him across his chest. ‘You know I can never look at her again?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I laugh. ‘It’s nothing. She’ll just pester us with it for a while and then she finds something else to humiliate me with. Really, it’s no big deal.’

March 20th 2 p.m.

I place the groceries in the fridge, after I got back home. I actually want to plan cooking Henry some dinner so I bought all the ingredients I think I need. He always does so much for me, so it’s only fair that I’m doing it too every once in a while.

Let’s just hope I don’t fail miserably.

My phone starts to ring and I quickly pick up. ‘Hello.’

‘Good afternoon, is this Becky Kim?’ a female voice asks.

I frown. ‘Yes, this is her. Is everything alright?’

‘My name is Alicia, a nurse at NewYork-Presbyterian. I’m calling in regards of Sehun Kim.’

Dad? That Sehun Kim? Too say I’m absolutely flabbergasted is an understatement. ‘Excuse me if I come off extremely rude, but I’m sure I’m not registered as his next of kin. Isn’t there someone else to call?’

‘Well miss Kim, you are his next of kin. Your father had a ruptured appendix. Thankfully he got to the hospital in time, but his health is severely declined. We are keeping him here for a few days, to see if everything is alright.’

I lean against the sink, thinking about my next move. ‘Is there anyone with him right now?’ I ask.

‘No, miss.’

I sigh deeply. What to do, what to do? ‘I’ll be there shortly.’ When I hang up the phone, I arrange the chauffeur to drive me to the hospital and I grab some stuff I need. As I step into the elevator, I text Henry to tell him what’s going on.

Becky: My dad is in the hospital, I’m going there right now

Daddy 🥰: Darling, are you okay? Do you need anything?

Becky: I’m taking the driver. Just be there when I get home?

Daddy 🥰: Of course, baby girl. Just tell me when you need something, okay?

Becky: Will do

✤ ✤ ✤

I have been looking at my father for a few minutes now from behind the glass. He looks a lot older than I remember him. I wonder why I’m next of kin and not my mom or my siblings. I mean, he hasn’t seen me in so long, I literally told my family I never wanted to see them anymore and that included him.

With my arms crossed in front of my chest, I hesitate whether or not I’m gonna open that door and walk into his room.

I mean, I kinda want to.

I always felt like my father and I were pretty much the same, however he never showed me how much he loved me. It always seemed easier to love my siblings than me, but maybe there were certain things that held him back.

I never asked him and now I finally have a chance.

Finally I mustered up the confidence to just do it. I open the door and walk in. He is awake and looks at me, but like usual he isn’t saying anything. It could be hurtful, but it doesn’t feel like that. I walk towards the side of the bed. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask him.

Still he is unable to talk, but I see it. I see his eyes filling with tears and for the first time in forever, I see the hurt he probably had to endure all this time.

‘Dad, please say something to me.’

‘I’m sorry, Becky,’ he then says, his voice breaking in the process. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘For not standing up to you. For not being the dad you deserved, you needed.’ He rubs his eyes with his fingers and adds: ‘What kind of father allows this type of crap?’

I honestly don’t know, so all I can do is simply shrug. ‘I’m guessing mom wasn’t too kind on you either.’

He shakes his head. ‘She wasn’t.’

‘Then why didn’t you divorce her?’ I ask, in a harsher tone then I originally intended to. ‘Took me with you? We could’ve been happy, dad, just the two of us.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘Then why didn’t you do it? Why didn’t you stand up for me?’

‘Because I was scared.’ It must be so painful for him to admit it, but I rather want him being honest with me, then him dancing around the subject. He was scared and I can’t blame him for it. Mom was (and I presume still is) pretty scary and if she was mean to me, I don’t think I can even fathom what happened between her and dad.

‘But why am I next of kin?’ I ask. ‘You have Liam and Celine.’

‘They are not you,’ he says and that hits something deep in my heart. ‘I was too scared to call you and tell you how sorry I am, so I changed you to my next of kin a few months back. I know, it was weak and I’m a coward, but it was the only way I felt like I could do ever talk to you again.’

It happens before I can even stop it. I place my hand on his and at first, dad doesn’t move, but then he holds my hand tightly in his.

‘I’m sorry, Becky. I’m so sorry.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know.’

‘I can’t imagine what you went through. I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve protected you.’

I don’t know what to say, so I simply grab a chair and drag it next to his bed, before taking place on it. ‘Then tell me everything you went through,’ I whisper, ‘maybe we can understand each other.’

✤ ✤ ✤

The afternoon turned into the night and it’s already seven p.m. when I arrive back the penthouse. It was both draining and very insightful. Everything I went through, my dad went through as well, for being a more shy personality, more serious and less out there. While I knew he would draw the short end of the stick when we were all together, he got it real bad when he was alone with my mom. The thing was: it didn’t stop when I moved out, when I told them I never wanted to see them again.

It only got worse.

Somehow me ending up in juvie, was his fault.

I close the door of the apartment and Henry says: ‘There you are. Baby girl, how are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ I say, though that is not quite the truth. ‘It went well.’

Henry stands up and walks over to me. ‘Glad to hear.’ He gives me a kiss, as his hands find mine. ‘Your dad is gonna be okay?’

‘Yeah, he just has to stay to see if all goes well tonight.’ I let out a deep sigh. ‘I missed him.’

He nods, allowing me to find the words to describe how I’m feeling.

‘We talked for a long while,’ I continue. ‘But I’m going back tomorrow, because I feel like we have a lot to catch up on. Wanna join me?’

‘If you want me to, I’ll happily go, you know that.’

I don’t want to cry, I think I did that enough the last few hours, however a few tears escape. ‘Daddy, can you hold me?’

He doesn’t waste a single second, before he hoists me up in his arms, holding me closely to his body. ‘I’m right here, sweetheart.’

I close my eyes, as I cling onto him. I start to sniffle, but it’s enough for Henry to be alerted.

‘Baby girl. What is it? What do you need?’

‘A hug.’

He pulls back a little and cocks an eyebrow. ‘That kind of hug?’

I nod. ‘Please?’

‘Of course.’ He carries me to the sauna, where he undoes me from my clothing and quickly shreds himself from his. We step into the hot sauna and I sit on his lap, before he starts the preparations. His hands massage my entire body, as I place my forehead against his. ‘I love you,’ he whispers against my lips.

‘I love you too.’

‘You did well today.’ He squeezes my breasts in his large hands, flicking my nipples and it’s already doing its magic trick in between my legs. ‘I’m proud of you, because it mustn’t be easy.’ He gives me a kiss, before he brings his lips to my hardened nipple, wrapping them around the sensitive nub.

I kiss him on his hairline. ‘You are?’

‘Oh baby, you have no idea.’

I reach down, grabbing his semi hard cock and rub his tip against my clit. I whimper, causing Henry to look up. He kisses me, soft and slow. ‘When you’re ready,’ he says.

I line him up near my throbbing entrance and I sink onto him, biting away the slight pain as I stretch around him. Henry rubs my clit and the pain quickly subdues. He leans back against the wall, pulling me onto his chest, his fingers drawing soft circles on my back.

I don’t know how long we are in this position, but when I open my eyes again, I feel pretty drowsy, almost like I fell asleep.

Henry is already awake, still holding me close against him, not caring that we’re both drenched in sweat. ‘Hi, baby girl,’ he whispers.

‘Hi.’

‘You were gone for quite a while. We’ve been here for an hour, or so.’

I smile. ‘I feel better, thank you.’

‘That’s good, that’s good.’ He gives me a kiss and says: ‘You look better.’

‘Daddy,’ I whisper, ‘I love you.’

‘Oh, I love you too.’

I rock my hips on his and he hums in content. ‘Fuck me,’ I beg. ‘Please do. I need it.’

‘How do you need it?’ he asks. ‘Rough? Soft? I’ll give it to you, baby girl. Just tell me what you need.’

I bite my lip. ‘I need it rough, daddy. Please, I need it rough.’

✤ ✤ ✤

When I ask for rough, I’ll get it even rougher. Henry used his tie to restrain my hands above my head, so he has his hands free to press the vibrator against my clit while he pounds himself inside of me. He is ruthless, but that is exactly what I need.

My mind is blank, as the only things I feel is being overpowered, loved and taken care of. I don’t know how many times I already came, but my sobs are quite telling.

‘You gonna cum again, baby?’

I nod, before my eyes roll back and my juices squirt passed him. Telling from his grunts, he is close as well.

‘Shit, baby girl, you feel so fucking good around me.’ He throws the vibrator to the side, tightening his grip on my hips, as I ride out my high. I’m a crying mess, tears dripping over my cheeks and that’s about the same time his hips stutter against mine, his warm seed spilled deep inside of me. He unties my hands, before giving me a sloppy kiss. ‘You okay?’ he asks, still buried inside of me.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’

‘You feel better?’

I smile. ‘I do, thank you, daddy. I needed that.’

He gives me a kiss on my lips and wipes away the tears. ‘You want to talk about it or not?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just glad you helped me out here.’ I place my hands on his chest. ‘Could need a shower, though.’

‘I know,’ he chuckles. ‘How about you take a shower, I’ll clean up in here and then join you?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ I whisper. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, baby girl.’

March 21st 11 a.m.

The next day I’m back at the hospital, only this time I took Henry with me. He holds my hand in his and gives me a reassuring kiss on my fingers. ‘You want me in there with you two immediately?’ he asks me.

I don’t need to think about that for very long, because I quickly nod. ‘Of course. I actually quite need you in there.’

We stop in front of his door and I take a deep breath before knocking three times and peaking around the corner. ‘Dad,’ I say, causing him to look up from his book, ‘I’m back and brought someone.’

Henry and I step into the room and my dad nods, taking in Henry. ‘Your fiancé,’ dad says, closing his book. Yesterday I told him a lot about Henry already, especially because my dad read my interview and actually figured out how to check my Instagram. It was his own way to keep track of me and for some odd reason, I’m glad he did. He holds out his hand and Henry is quick to take it. ‘I’m Sehun, nice to meet you.’

‘My name is Henry, sir. It’s great to meet you too.’ He pulls two chairs next to dad’s bed and we both take a seat.

I take his hand into mine and say: ‘Dad, how are you feeling?’

‘Better, better.’ Dad stares at Henry and says: ‘It doesn’t take a genius to see how happy you are with each other.’

I smile, my other hand blindly searching Henry’s.

‘I also don’t need to tell you, but you need to take good care of her.’

Henry nods. ‘Don’t you worry, sir, I take good care of her.’

My dad looks up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes.

‘Dad, please,’ I say, ‘it’s all okay. We spoke about this yesterday: I don’t blame you. Not at all, not in the slightest.’

He has never been the talkative type, I know that. It pains me to see how crushed he is, how much he is beating himself up. I understand that he feels like that, however I am not mad. After yesterday’s talk I understood and realized I never wanted to be mad at him at all.

‘I don’t know if you can make it and if you even want to, but you—and you alone—can come to the wedding if you want. It’s a little short notice, I know, but Henry and I would love it if you were there.’

Dad simply nods. ‘I would love that too,’ he says in a hoarse tone. ‘Just… You have to help me with something first.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Help me arrange a divorce.’

Don’t overreact, Becky. The rush of utter euphoria fills my body. He wants to divorce my mom? After all those years? Is there an opportunity I could still have that relationship with my dad I have always secretly wanted and wished for.

I look over my shoulder to Henry, who seems to read my eyes. ‘I can arrange something with my lawyer,’ Henry says, squeezing my fingers. ‘You know what, I’ll call him right now. Maybe we can arrange something very soon.’

Henry leaves the room, holding his phone in his hand and my dad nods. ‘You have a nice fiancé,’ he says. ‘Takes good care of you.’

I smile. ‘Yeah, he does. He is the love of my life.’

Dad tilts his head. ‘You sure you want me there?’

‘Yes, I’d love to. We have an entire month to get to know each other and that of course won’t change after the wedding. We could look for an apartment for you, make sure you can start a new life.’

‘It’s a father’s job to protect and take care of his kids, not the other way around.’ He sighs deeply and says: ‘I have never taken care of you. Protected you from those vile words spilled from your mom and siblings.’

‘But you will,’ I say. ‘Please, it’s all good. Know and accept that, okay? I want to work on our relationship and that can start with an apartment when you are released from this awful place.’

For the first time he widely smiles. ‘I’m a lucky man for having a daughter like you.’

Henry enters the room again and says: ‘Well, I spoke to my lawyer and he is ready to meet you in a few days. There is a possibility he can expedite the process.’

Dad nods again. ‘Thank you, Henry. Now please sit, so I can get to know you.’

✤ ✤ ✤

When Henry and I are back in the car after hours of getting to know my father, tears finally drip over my tears. ‘Baby girl,’ he says, ‘it’s okay. You did amazing.’

‘I just don’t know why I’m crying, especially because I’m happy. I’m happy with all of this, however it’s just that… I wish there was more I could do.’

‘You are doing all you can,’ he says. ‘And your dad knows that.’

I hide my face in my hands and I feel Henry’s hand in the back of my neck. He presses a kiss on the top of my head.

‘I love you, baby girl and we’ll get through this.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x becky kim #sugar daddy!henry cavill #sugar sugar #becky kim #asian ofc

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ardania22 · 2 years

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I’ve been trying to put into words why the whole culture around the Depp/Heard trial rubs me the wrong way, and I think I’ve finally figured it out. I mean, aside from the obvious turning a serious conflict involving domestic abuse with complex circumstances into a carnival sideshow my GOD do you fuckers have any empathy whatsoever. But that should be a given by now.

No, what really irks me about this mess, specifically about the pro-Depp anti-Heard side, is how resistant they are to any sort of good-faith discussion.

I’ve been on the internet a while. I’m old enough to remember watching the shitshow that was Gamergate rise and fall in real time. I’ve seen how so many internet controversies since then have taken similar forms of bullying, abuse and brigading. And the one thing they all share, no matter the target or reasoning, is the impenetrable hivemind of those on the offense. They are convinced beyond belief that they are in the right to attack and harass whoever the victim of the day is, and any attempt to offer an alternate perspective, or even raise some concerns, is treated as an affront to morality itself. Either you join the mob on the witch hunt, or you’re no better than the witch. Nevermind if the offense is as simple as a poorly-worded tweet or a slightly ignorant hot take, they are utterly certain that the only appropriate response is to destroy the life of whoever they feel is responsible, regardless of whether or not they even did anything wrong (*cough* Lindsay Ellis *cough*).

Obviously, the situation with Depp and Heard is way more serious than just a tweet taken the wrong way. But that’s all the more reason the all-or-nothing viciousness of Heard’s haters is unacceptable. This is a fucking difficult situation that we cannot approach without nuance if we want to truly process it. But nuance is unacceptable to this crowd. They’d rather bulldoze their opinion over yours and call you a terrible person for even suggesting that things may be a bit more complicated than “Heard bad, Depp good.” I’ve seen lots of people raise reasonable concerns about the way this trial is being talked about, and never once have I seen a Heard hater engage them in good faith. No “I see where you’re coming from, but here’s why I think you’re mistaken.” No “You have some good points, but there are some things I don’t think you’re taking into account.” It’s always full-blown antagonism right from the get-go. “What, you’re saying we should have a nuanced perspective on this messy situation? Well, fuck you, you obviously don’t care about domestic abuse victims and you’re clearly a shitty person. Here, let me direct all my friends to dogpile you with harrassment just to prove how much we care about stopping abuse.” Like, I’m sure there have been reasonable discussions happening somewhere, but I’m not seeing them.

I’ve seen a lot of these internet mobs rise and fall in my day. So take it from me when I say: when a collective cause cannot take good-faith criticism and responds to every inconvenient fact with antagonism? When they would rather try and bulldoze your contrary opinion into the ground than engage and try to convince you reasonably? Then you should be as skeptical of their position as fucking possible. I don’t know what the truth is at the heart of this matter, and neither do they, no matter how many hours of C-Span they pretend to watch. They don’t actually care about getting to the truth of the matter, or standing up for domestic abuse victims, or even seeing justice done. They just want to be right, whatever the cost. And there are few instincts more dangerous in today’s society than an inability to accept you may be wrong.

#johnny depp #amber heard #cw: domestic violence #politics

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nonbinarykai · 3 years

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Im going to be taking a hiatus for awhile

And here’s why:

To address the elephant in the room, yes the video does have some part in it but it’s not the main reason. The video made me reflect a lot about this blog and how I address it. While I don’t think the video was entirely made out of bad faith it did make me realize the sort of emphasis this blog might have on the fandom. So I’ll be breaking down the reasons now

1. Validation

I made this blog originally as a way to try to combat my validation chasing, I had a issue in discord where I felt upset and angry every time someone couldn’t respond to my thoughts about Kai, which was unfair to my friends because they obviously have other lives to live. So I made this blog as a way to put all my thoughts into the world without having to find anyone to validate them.

But I feel like as the blog became bigger that plan sort of back fired and soon enough I started posting in order to get validation.

Not only that but I’m afraid that many people i interact with might be using the blog as there own way to try to get validation either from me or from my content.

This behavior around people using my blog as a way to gain validation has been putting a lot of worry on me as I don’t want to enable the same toxic mindset I made this blog to avoid.

2. Impact on this fandom

While I’m excited that the fandom is starting to recognize Kai more, I’m worried that my posts may have given Kai a more negative representation then I would be happy with.

It’s no secret that I complain a lot and that’s because I just post whatever’s on my mind. I’m passionate about the series and sometimes that comes out in a light hearted/satirical yet harsh way.

However I feel like my posts have had a general negative impact on how people not only view Kai but people I tend to talk about like lloyd, jay, Tommy, or even the fandom itself.

People now view Kai as a poorly written character that’s been neglected by the show, and while that’s not entirely false, that’s not exactly the kind of way I want Kai to be viewed. I want him to be viewed for the types of flaws AND positives he has and I want to encourage other people to be able to rewrite his character to be better

I’ve also feel like I’ve been to aggressive towards the people I disagree with, from Tommy to people who just want to talk to me. Most of my posts are meant to be satirical or light hearted, but there’s a place for playful rudeness and it’s clear that I can’t just engage that kind of behavior with people I don’t know

Im also not very comfortable with how much people recognize me now, I don’t want to be seen as any type of celebrity or famous person. And I don’t really want to be seen as a final authority on anything, I just want to talk about Kai

3. General burn out and disinterest

Im a busy person and I have to deal with things like school and work. I also have other projects I’m working on that I’m generally more interested in.

So while I’m not planning to get rid of this blog at all, I’m going to have to cut back on how much I use it and how much I interact with people on it. I can’t force myself to respond to every reblog or posts new ideas on here when I can spend that time doing much better stuff. I still have a main account I want to focus more art into.

While I’m not sure how long this hiatus will be, I’m not planning on deleting or completely removing the account, I’m going to be taking the time away to rethink how I can approach this blog with a more positive and healthy perspective

#ninjago

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valdomarx · 4 years

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Anon requested: Geralt/Jaskier body swap

“It’s not funny, Yen,” Geralt growls. Or, rather, he intends to growl, but it comes out as a petulant whine. He crosses his arms and scowls, but the effect is ruined by the ridiculous puffy baby blue doublet he's wearing and the way his hair flops rakishly over one eye.

Yennefer looks from him to Jaskier, who is trying to hide his now considerable bulk behind a tall plant. He is not succeeding.

“No, you’re right, it isn’t funny,” Yennefer soothes. “It’s hilarious.”

“So glad we could entertain you,” Jaskier snaps, and it’s so strange for Geralt to watch his own body bouncing around the room animated by Jaskier’s irrepressible energy. “But I have a performance tonight and I can’t very well play like this -” he gestures with Geralt’s thick, stubby fingers, which are admittedly poorly suited to playing the lute. “So fix it. Please.”

“You don’t want me to do that,” she says, not looking apologetic. “It’s a powerful binding spell and while I could break it forcibly, it would risk both your lives. You’re better off waiting a few days until it runs its course.”

“So we’re stuck like this?” Geralt can’t control the timbre of his voice and it wobbles and rises dramatically. It's awful.

Yennefer shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll manage. Who knows,” she smirks, “perhaps it’ll be educational for both of you.”

“How many times must we do this, Jaskier? I can’t play the bloody lute!”

“Of course you can. Your muscles remember how, and so do your fingers. Just relax into it. Give it another go.”

Geralt pouts (when did he start pouting?) and picks at the strings. His hands do feel like they’re itching to play, but it’s like they’re moving faster than his mind and every time he tries to exert control over them, he falters.

“Stop thinking so much,” Jaskier growls, and he’s actually a little scary like this. There’s a thunderous expression on his face and Geralt wonders if this is how he comes across to other people. “Let’s start with something easy. I’ll sing a song you know, and you play along as best you can.”

He hums a few scales and turns to Geralt, his usually stoic witcher face twisted into a mischievous grin. “Geralt! You’ve been holding out on me. If I’d know you were hiding a lovely baritone all this time, I’d have insisted you join me for a duet before now.”

Geralt groans and wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a couple of drowners, Geralt. I could probably kill them even in my own body.”

“You really couldn’t.”

“I’ll have you know that I have been paying some attention over the last decade. I’ve learnt things. Drowners move in packs. They’re immune to poison but vulnerable to silver. When you engage a group, move in fast and hard but don’t let any get behind you. See?”

Jaskier draws his sword and drops into a combat stance. Admittedly, he moves with a grace and elegance that suggests someone well-trained. However...

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What you were saying about having paid attention, knowing your lore, being a capable monster hunter...”

“What about it?”

“That’s the wrong sword. Silver for monsters.”

“Oh. Right. Is this not silver? Ahh. No, I see that now. Whoops. Let’s try this again.”

“You are definitely going to be eaten by a drowner.”

Three days later, the strain of their situation is starting to show.

“This body, it’s... I feel like...” Geralt chews at his lower lip, frustration and embarrassment racing through him with a force he’s still unused to. “Fuck, Jaskier, how are you so horny all the time?”

Jaskier laughs, the bastard, rich and warm and deep. “Welcome to my life.”

“I’ve already jerked off three times today and it hasn’t helped.”

That makes Jaskier stop laughing. Witchers don’t blush, but Geralt recognises the way his mouth gapes. “You... with my body... you unchivalrous brute!”

Geralt scoffs. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Why, you...” Jaskier glowers. “And I have been so restrained. I have controlled not only my libidinous urges but also my natural and deep-seated curiosity in defence of your privacy. Well, that’s quite enough of that! I'm off to take a bath and I'm going to enjoy myself thoroughly, thank you very much.”

That makes something race uncomfortably under his skin. He swallows and avoids looking in Jaskier’s direction.

“Put me down!”

“I will do no such thing,” Jaskier cackles, throwing Geralt over his shoulder like a rag doll. It’s extremely undignified. “This is too much fun.”

“Damn it, Jaskier, put me down!” He beats his fists uselessly against Jaskier’s back. “Or I’ll... I’ll wait until you’re asleep and I’ll cut your hair.”

Jaskier drops him to the ground and gasps. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Geralt levels him with his best steely glare. “Try me.”

“You’ve already made such a mess of it.” Jaskier tuts as he cards his fingers through Geralt’s - or rather, his own - hair. A ridiculous pang of jealously twinges inside Geralt. He has, perhaps, idly wondered in the past how it would feel to run his hand through Jaskier’s hair, and it’s not the same when he does it to himself.

“Even like this,” Jaskier says, brushing a finger along Geralt’s cheek, “you still manage to scowl.”

“It’s my natural charm,” he grumbles, and he has a horrible feeling he might be pouting again.

Geralt wakes up the next morning feeling fresh and alert to the sounds of the birds outside the window, the smell of bread baking downstairs, the feel of rain approaching later in the day... And thanks the gods, as he rubs his eyes it’s with his own hand, and he looks down to confirm he’s back in his own scarred body.

Jaskier is sleeping next to him, splayed out across the bed and taking up far more room than someone his size ought to be able to, drooling into the pillow. It’s so unmistakably Jaskier, and somehow Geralt has missed him.

Geralt allows himself an indulgence and gently brushes the hair from Jaskier’s face. It feels soft beneath his fingers, silky and springy. Jaskier snuffles in his sleep, rolling over and scooting closer. Geralt chivalrously puts an am around his shoulders and he cuddles into Geralt’s chest with a comfortable, contented smile.

Much better. Everything back in its right place.

#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #i will never tire of these classic fanfic tropes i love them

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katatty · 3 years

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Recap: Pleasantview Round 5 (Summer)

The romance of Spring certainly went to a few heads in Pleasantview - the suburb is in the midst of quite the baby boom. But now Summer is here, and school is out! Parents are scrambling to sort out childcare, teenagers are reveling in their freedom, and with the sun shining, the mood in the neighbourhood is pretty great.

But are the families as happy as they seem? Or are some on the brink of collapse? What secrets lurk in their hearts?

The round began with newcomers Tiffany Sampson and Kevin Beare getting settled in. They adopted a puppy, got new jobs, and got to know the neighbours.

Then as Tiffany finished her first day of work in the Education career, she learned she was already pregnant!

They had a quick, slightly rushed wedding before the baby arrived.

Baby Harvey was born, but it already looks like she might be expecting again.

The round ended on a happy note, with the couple already nicely established as a family in town with a few friends!

The Dreamer family started out just as well, but things quickly started to deteriorate.

Due to a combination of bad mental health, recurring nightmares and possible haunting, Brandi Broke isn’t in a good place. Her relationship with Darren suffers for it, too.

Meanwhile Cassandra’s marriage with Don is falling apart, and Darren can’t help being sympathetic. Perhaps a little too much so.

Mia Broke, obsessed with the paranormal, gets herself abducted by aliens, much to her mom’s dismay.

She’s also eager to discuss her theories about the spooky sounds in their yard, but Brandi shuts it down.

Mia goes on a date with Benedick Monty, but it’s kind of a mixed bag.

Back home, Mia and Darren eventually talk about the possible hauntings at home. He admits to her seeing Darleen’s ghost, from time to time.

Brandi also opens up to Mia about her father, Skip.

And Mia is vindicated to finally some ghosts herself!

I played the Lotharios next since I was interested in what was going on with Cassandra.

Cassandra and Don’s relationship has had its ups and downs - neither of them has been 100% faithful, but they’re dealing with it. Maybe? Between raising the twins and focusing on their careers there hasn’t been a ton of time for marriage counselling.

Don’s been feeling a bit isolated, recently. Outside of his family and his coworkers, he doesn’t really have a lot of friends. That’s been deliberate, to an extent. The fewer people around him, the fewer temptations to stray outside of the marriage.

For the most part, it’s been working. But a chance meeting with Nina Caliente has him feeling… confused.

The kids are doing fine, the parents not so much.

She’s always in low aspiration, lately, ever since her Dad passed away. It’s been hard getting on her feet since then, and Don going on about needing “me time” doesn’t help. She needs his support right now more than ever! Why doesn’t he get that?

They don’t talk about it, but both of them are feeling very alone, and starting to lose faith in each other...

Meanwhile, the boys age up. Bernado’s a popularity sim and Cassimiro’s knowledge.

Eventually, things in the marriage finally explode and Cassandra tells Don about Darren, trying to get a rise out of him.

Don immediately retaliates by woohooing with Sharon Wirth on a grocery-run.

After a cool-off day, they agree to break things off, and Don moves out.

He moves in, temporarily, with Bella. Who is insistant that he and Cassie try and patch things up!

He’s more interested in exploring new options, though.

Bella is devestated to lose her job as a party guest.

Meanwhile Oliver Goth (Dina and Mortimer’s son) gets his first kiss with Ariel Capp! Later he goes on a date with Tommy Ottomas, too.

At one of Bella’s parties, Cassandra and Don keep things civil, but Cassandra evidently isn’t doing well.

Bella goes on a date with Gilbert Jacquet. It’s not really all that serious between them, and Bella still misses Mortimer dreadfully, but Gilbert is charming and handsome enough to take her mind of her worries.

Things with Bella and Don also seem to be getting a little heavy, and Don concludes he needs to move out before things cross a line. Bella reluctantly agrees, it’s obvious her plan to get him and Cassie back together hasn’t worked

Don moves to Strangetown!

Next up are the Ramaswami family, a nice breath of fresh air after all the drama.

Priya befriends some of the other mothers in town, becoming especially close to Kaylynn.

And baby Ravi gows into maybe the coolest toddler ever?

Sanjay survives a near death experience.

And Priya finds out she’s expecting again!

Divorced once and with the girls having just graduated college, Daniel Pleasant didn’t expect to be engaged again with a kid on the way as he approached retirement age, doing it all over again. He’s far from unhappy about it, though. Mary Sue always had an independent streak, but Kaylynn adores him. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but it feels so good to be needed.

Kaylynn knows some people in the neighbourhood look down on her, think her naive, call her a homewrecker… that’s fine. If they worked as a cleaner for years and years maybe they’d consider packing it in and settling into an easy life, too. What’s wrong with wanting to be taken care of?

Notably (and much to my horror) during the Pleasant round, Brandi and John start up their affair again.

Kaylynn finally gives birth, to a baby boy they call Jeffery Pleasant, after Daniel’s father. Daniel’s really pleased!

Jennifer’s eager to meet her new nephew. She and Kaylynn get off to a rocky start, but eventually start to bond.

She’s closest friends with Brandi Broke, though. The two have become inseperable, with Brandi visiting all the time.

Daniel invites both of the girls over to meet their little brother, but Angela is the only twin who shows. Whether that’s because they have a better relationship, or because Lilith was just busy is anyone’s guess.

Then it turns out Kaylynn’s pregnant again already?

Kaylynn and Daniel tie the knot!

Nina and Don also reconcile at the wedding.

Kaylynn gives birth to another baby boy, Luke!

And Jeff ages upp!

Daniel ages up, too. It’s finally time for him to retire, soon...

Daniel’s definitely a bit of a dirty old man, but Kaylynn doesn’t seem entirely oblivious to that side of him, and figures as long as she keeps his needs met they should be fine. We’ll see if that holds up.

Then it was time to catch up with the Shoreharts, who moved here form Widespot for a fresh start.

A retired chef, Sandy’s enjoying her retirement a lot more than she ever enjoyed being a stay at home mom. Granted, all this free time has her a little restless, but it’s nothing a bit of time outdoors and excercise can’t fix. She hopes.

They were honestly pretty chill! Rhett’s taken to the whole marriage thing suprisingly well, for a romance sim. Turns out, as long as he’s getting lovin’ on a regular basis he doesn’t really care if it’s with one woman or several. It’s never boring with Sandy, and he intends to keep her as happy as he can for the rest of her days. That’ll show her shit-heel of an ex-husband.

Mostly they just spend a lot of time with family.

Sandy’s very generious with the backrubs, but nothing goes too far.

Mimi is definitely at least a little anxious about her parents’ marriage though, because she spends some of the round reading up on Couple’s Councelling.

Then it’s time for her to age up! She grows into a rather cute romance sim.

Then at the party the house of cards starts to crumble, as Sandy gives her ex-husband Hamilton a kiss, right in front of Mimi and Rocky.

Mimi agrees not to tell her Dad, but isn’t happy. She spends a lot of time out of the house.

With Sandy keeping her indescretion quiet, I’m not sure what they have in store in the future!

Regardless, next are the Ramirez family.

Tessa’s spent a lot of time looking afte rthe baby and she’s sick of it! So she spends some time Downtown with friends.

She later takes Bernardo on a date, although he’s not sure if he likes her as more than a friend. Bernardo likes the idea of falling in love with Tessa, who he’s always admired! But he’s a little hesitant at the same time, especially with his parents’ divorce still being so recent.

Checo has a bit of a wandering eye, but mostly he keeps himself in check.

Checo might be a bit of a flirt, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. When Lisa was dancing with Skye he didn’t even bat an eye. Or maybe he just doesn’t see an old man as much of a threat…

Ugh, God, I forgot this happened

Baby Sofia grew up super cute!

Anyway, that’s all from them!

The Oldies weren’t too eventful, mostly just focused on hobbies!

They did finally meet Mary’Sue’s new partner, which went... poorly.

But they did have a nice meeting with their grandaughter later, and a fun night out!

Then it was the Burbs! John’s recent indescretions with Brandi aside, things seemed to be going well.

At least, until he made out with Coral Oldie :/

Oblivious to thins, Jennifer was starting to trust John again.

They had dinner with Jen’s brother Dan and his new wife...

And Jennifer discovered she was pregnant again!

Lucy headed away for college...

And baby James grew up, leaving the Burb round complete and Pleasantview all done & dusted!

#Pleasantview Plus #Hood: Pleasantview #pp: recap

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azucanela · 4 years

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SKIN DEEP DECEPTION

PAIRING: TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER [SOULMATE AU]

SUMMARY: In a world where the number of lies your soulmate tells each day is written in your wrist, Y/N has found that her soulmate has two moods. No lies, or dozens at a time.

WARNINGS: CURSE WORDS (WH*RE). ANGST. MILD VIOLENCE.

WORD COUNT: 4K.

A/N: happy anniversary? marriage? engagement? @bbykutos <3 this is my first time writing an au so pls lmk how i did and uhhh idk i feel like this is bad

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

IN A WORLD FILLED WITH LIES only one person knew when you were really telling the truth. That person being your soulmate. Though it’s not always a lover, that tended to be the most common occurrence when it came to soulmates. The whole point of soulmates had been to have someone perfect for you, though this wasn’t always the case of course.

Growing up, Y/N had always viewed soulmates as a false ideal, a distant fantasy, though the number on her wrist was confirmation enough that soulmates existed— that didn’t mean they were truly meant to be.

She’d learnt that the hard way.

At times, kids would find their soulmates in their first year of school; which normally went either really well or really poorly. Others in high school, college, some mundane moment at a coffee shop or a more dramatic one at one of the biggest moments of their lives. Sometimes it was romantic, other times it was chaotic, or just plain dull. Most of the times finding your soulmate meant catching them in the midst of a lie... several times. Sometimes people found love, an enemy, or... they just found their soulmate.

Y/N wasn’t the only person who’d become rather apathetic towards the whole idea, though there was no denying the small part of her— in the back of her mind, the part she’d tried so hard to bury— that hoped, that wished, that dreamed of a soulmate who cared for her.

And yet, even her own parents were an example of this false ideal.

Not that it mattered, seeing as she was yet to meet her soulmate. There was no reason to dwell on it, that had become abundantly clear to Y/N, and yet here she was, allowing her mind to wander as she stared— maybe even glared— at her wrist in class.

“I need to use the restroom.”

The word’s pull her out of her daze, eyes rising back up to the board where her teacher stands— smile on her face as she replies, “of course! Go on ahead.” Y/N’s eyes trail over to the student in question, the blonde boy seated beside her, Tsukishima Kei. She was familiar with him seeing as they’d gone to the same middle school. He also happened to be the class’ star pupil due to his stellar intellect.

With a frown, Y/N exhales deeply and looks back down only to come face to face with the number on her wrist having increased by one.

1 lie so far today, huh.

Most days Y/N had found that the lies didn’t start piling up until the afternoon, other times there were slim to none, and assuming they were in high school as well— what were they lying about. It truly left her baffled at what in the world they could be saying. Aside from this curiosity, the thought of her soulmate returned to the back of her mind as a hand tapped her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts once more.

A green haired boy stands beside her— she recognizes him, Yamaguchi Tadashi. They’d been friends in middle school and remained so when they’d entered high school, though they weren’t as close as they used to be, Yamaguchi had tried and failed to keep it that way.

The bitter memories resurface, though Y/N simply pushes them to the back of her mind alongside all the over thoughts she doesn’t want to address as she turns to Yamaguchi with a smile, “hey Yamaguchi, what’s up?”

He offers her a nervous smile, eyes flickering across the room before returning to her before he replies, “I was wondering if you wanted to be in my group?”

Tilting her head at him, a small laugh escapes Y/N as she asks, “group?”

For a moment Yamaguchi’s brows furrow, though his eyes drift towards her single rolled up sleeve, the number one displayed on it, “oh! We have a group project for the next few weeks.” Comes his response.

“Project...” Y/N mumbles out, eyes scanning the room as she watches people enter clusters of three, talking and writing things down in their journal— even exchanging numbers. “Right.”

She had a feeling that Tsukishima’s sunny disposition hadn’t done them any favors when it came to getting other members to join their group projects. Coupled with Yamaguchi’s need to end all conflict between his friends.

That must be how they ended up here.

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N quickly shut it as she searched for the right words, bringing an arm to the back of her neck as she scratched it awkwardly. “I just don’t know if that would be the best idea—”

“If what would be the best idea?” Behind Yamaguchi comes Tsukishima, hands shoved into his pockets as he looks between them.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Y/N looks away, brows furrowing as memories begin to surface. Seeing as the last time they’d interacted, Tsukishima had elected to use some... crude words. Well, Y/N had expected awkwardness when they inevitably spoke to each other once more, and the fact that he seemed to unfazed left her wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

Preferably in a violent way.

Yamaguchi seems to answer for her as he replies, “well I was thinking since we need groups of three, Y/N would just join us.” Yamaguchi looks between the pair before saying, “like old times.”

Y/N wants to gag.

Moving to stand, she offers Yamaguchi a tight lipped smile, “I’ll probably join a different group but—”

“There are no other groups.” Tsukishima interrupts, though there’s no emotion in his words, as though he’s simply stating a fact. Because clearly, he doesn’t care.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods slowly, looking between the both of them before saying, “well you both have my number.” The bell rings, and Y/N can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she continues, “text me about the project whenever.” Before immediately grabbing her bag from beside her desk and swinging it over her shoulder.

Tsukishima is watching as she leaves, a sigh escaping him as he adjusts his glasses before turning to Yamaguchi, “you’ll need to make a group chat.”

“Why?” He asks, brows furrowing as he pulls at his phone to do so regardless, fingers typing away at the screen.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Tsukishima shrugs, “she has me blocked.”

Yamaguchi pauses his typing, sighing. Though he doesn’t look up at Tsukishima as he replies, “Of course she does— well I would too.” Yamaguchi exhales deeply, “you should apologize to her.”

It had always been a touchy subject in their friendship, the way that Tsukishima had elected to end— more accurately, ruin — his friendship with Y/N. Though Yamaguchi wasn’t there to hear what he’d said himself, he’d heard it had been pretty bad from others. After all, Tsukishima had received his first, second and third punch to the face that day.

It was deserved.

“Yeah.” Comes his reply, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

In an attempt to combat the uncomfortable silence between them, Yamaguchi asks, “so where’d you go?”

A smirk breaks out on Tsukishima’s face, “not the bathroom that’s for sure.”

THE NEXT TIME TSUKISHIMA KEI TEXTS Y/N, the message actually goes through. For some reason he can’t bring himself to delete the ones that came before, the apologies from a year prior followed by his messages of realization that she had blocked him.

Maybe it was the fact that his pride had taken a blow or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to know if he was forgivable, Tsukishima had never made any attempts to apologize fact to face.

Actually, that’s a lie, he had. But he had chickened out last minute, the panic flooding his veins as he was faced with a situation almost identical to the one that had gotten him into the mess. Seeing her alongside the very person who had punched him in the face that day— well, the first person who had that is— a broad smile on her face.

And who was he to ruin that. Did he even want to know what she’d say? Would she call him ridiculous, a fool for even thinking an apology could mend anything between him?

Would hearing her voice one more time, even if it was just riddled with insults, be enough for closure? He’d done this to himself Tsukishima was well aware but that didn’t make him any less upset at the fact that he’d lost his best friend.

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of those memories as he stares at the message, a simple:

hey, it’s tsukishima.

He was fairly sure that not only had he been blocked he had also had his number deleted, so starting with an introduction seemed right.

we’re meeting at my house tmrw after school. yamaguchi and i have volleyball practice, you can wait for us at the gym or just head over to my house i dont care.

There are so many implications to the message and they all leave Y/N’s head spinning, or maybe she was reading into it. She wasn’t sure at this point, but it was clear that Tsukishima was well aware that she still had the key to his front door.

Y/N elected to show up to volleyball practice rather than face his mother alone.

Stepping into the gym, the sound of shows scrapping against the floor, and volleyballs hitting the ground at an almost rapid pace as people moved around the courts just as quickly.

Y/N scrunches up her nose as she’s hit with the smell of sweat, something to be expected in a gym of course, lips pressing together into a straight line as she steps further into the gym and looks to her left. There stands another girl, albeit slightly intimidating but she looked far more approachable than the other people around the gym

“Excuse me?”

She turns, brows furrowing slightly at the sight of Y/N before offering her a smile and asking, “hey. How can I help you?”

Smiling back— albeit awkwardly— Y/N replies, “I’m waiting for someone,” Y/N quickly realizes that isn’t much information as she adds, “someone in this club. Actually, two people— that’s beside the point. Is there anywhere I can just sit, until the end?”

Once more her brows furrow, “our practices tend to go on pretty long, especially since some of the boys like extra work and we have a few practice games coming up.” Shaking her head slightly, the girl gestures to the bench beside her, “you can sit here with me, I’m Kiyoko by the way.”

“So who are you waiting for?”

“Oh, uh... Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Y/N finds herself coming by the gym more often after that day, although it isn’t because she has to walk back to Tsukishima’s house after with him and Yamaguchi, it’s because she finds herself enjoying Kiyoko’s presence. She’s a quiet girl, but she’s rather witty behind the scenes, and certainly and entertaining and fun person. And so were the other boys in the club.

They’d quickly become intrigued by the presence of another girl and—

“Another female manager? Nice!”

“Another manager? Why?”

“Kiyoko are you leaving us!?”

Okay so maybe Y/N had inadvertently joined the Boy’s Volleyball Club, but she really had nothing better to do with her time, much less with all the time she had between school and when the practice ended, allowing Tsukishima to go home with Yamaguchi and Y/N. But it’s not like it wouldn’t be over soon, right? The groups would only last two weeks and then Y/N would be free of her old— or more accurately, ex-friend.

Wrong, the groups became permanent. For the rest of year the students have to use them, for every single group project. Leaving Y/N to dread the class each time she entered due to the burning anticipation of a possible group project. Though Yamaguchi had made several attempts to approach Y/N since their last project ended just a few weeks prior, going as far as ditching Tsukishima entirely to sit with her at lunch some days.

Y/N entertained him, it’s not like she wanted to be rude or anything— not to Yamaguchi that is, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t been the one to randomly explode and call her a variety of... colorful words upon finding her with a friend last year.

Neither Y/N nor Yamaguchi bring it up of course, how Tsukishima had driven her away with his crude words that she never expected would ever be directed towards her.

But...

“We’ll be having another group project for the next two weeks!”

The conversation was inevitable.

Y/N nearly rams her head into her desk as she sighs, eyes drifting upwards towards the ceiling as though that would solve any of her current problems, before looking back to Tsukishima with a rather sarcastic smile that he returns with one of his own. Yamaguchi on the other hand, is waving rather enthusiastically from his seat in the classroom, beaming.

It’s not like it was a bad group. They got things done, and when grades were returned, they were good. It’s just that Tsukishima was... Tsukishima. And as annoying and rude as he was, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more annoyed with herself because she still couldn’t find it in herself to hate him.

Backpack slung over her shoulder, Y/N exhales deeply as she looks back at Yamaguchi who remains at his porch, “make sure she gets home safe, Tsukki!”

“That’s really not necessary, Yams.” She assures, giving him a pointed look when Tsukishima turns around with a disinterested shrug. But of course. the boy waves her off, simply shoving her forwards with Tsukki, offering her a thumbs up and a smile.

Y/N simply turns around and follows Tsukishima with a scowl, quickly moving ahead of him as she tugs her backpack strap tighter onto her shoulder.

Tsukishima is rolling his eyes as she moves ahead of him, “how am I supposed to stop you from getting kidnapped when you’re a mile ahead of me?” He calls out to her, maintaining his pace. Y/N doesn’t reply, continuing on ahead, “Y/N.” He repeats, “Y/N.” Once more, she ignores him, until she hears his steps pick up behind her, a hand wrapping around her wrist and stopping her movements.

“Yes Kei?” She exclaims in annoyance, turning back to him. Only for her mouth to gape open as she grimaces, “Tsukishima. I mean.”

He exhales deeply, looking away momentarily before saying, “I’m sorry.”

So, Y/N laughs. “Wow. Tsukishima Kei swallowing his pride to apologize? Impressive.” Tsukishima opens his mouth to reply, only for Y/N to speak first and say, “I hate you.” Before tearing her arm out of his grasp and stepping ahead once more.

Y/N isn’t looking at him as he replies, “no you don’t.”

And Tsukishima would’ve believed had he not looked to his wrist, the number rising with each insult Y/N spewed. Though there was no denying that he deserved it, but that didn’t stop the grimace that came on his face before he asked, “you done?”

WHEN TSUKISHIMA FOUND OUT Y/N WAS HIS SOULMATE, it did not end well. He wasn’t really sure if he had a plan that day, but if he did it went out the window once he saw her with one of her friends from another school. Though Tsukishima had never met the boy in question, it didn’t take long for him to realize that Y/N liked him, whether that was platonic or not it didn’t matter. Because watching her laugh along with him in the convenience store only served as a reminder that there were people better than him.

Tsukishima had never considered himself insecure per se, much less an over thinker or anything of the sort. But the simple fact of the matter was, Y/N didn’t want him, she was stuck with him as his soulmate.

And though she was blissfully unaware of this fact, why did that need to change?

Perhaps she could be happier with that boy, with anyone other than him. Tsukishima had known Y/N for years and though he would never admit it, he respected her, he cared for her, long before he’d discovered they were soulmates. And prior to his discovery he’d always found the system idiotic, so why did his mindset have to change?

It was a bitter ideology, and a jealous and foolish reaction that put him in the place he’s in today. Though Tsukishima was fairly sure it only proved his point, that she deserved better, that didn’t make him any more remorseful of their friendship.

He’d nearly told her several times, like the blunt and straightforward person he is, Tsukishima had almost stopped her in the halls of school and simply said— “surprise! We’re soulmates. Sorry about calling you a whore and all, I was just jealous and bitter because I realized there are people out there better for you and somehow you got stuck with me!”

Yeah, that would’ve blown over real well. Tsukishima was fairly sure he would’ve received an addition hit to the face from her and Yamaguchi, again.

Yamaguchi was not happy when he found out about the convenience store incident. At all.

Tsukishima couldn’t recount many times when he was scared of Yamaguchi Tadashi, until his fist was flying towards his face. Of course, he laughed it off, wiping the blood from his nose, but that didn’t make it a fun experience by any means.

Now, Tsukishima was just trying to amend things, slightly. It’s not like Y/N owed him any of her time, and it’s not like she needed to know that they were soulmates.

It would be better off that way for the both of them, or at least, that’s what Tsukishima told himself— much to Yamaguchi’s dismay. The boy had been urging Tsukishima to just tell her the truth, for a while now, to no avail. And when Tsukishima returned to class one day having discovered he would be in a group with her and Yamaguchi, well he couldn’t help but thing Yamaguchi was scheming.

But looking up to Yamaguchi and Y/N, who are seated at the table of some café Y/N had insisted on coming to, Tsukishima can’t help but think it was worth it.

No, she didn’t need to know.

And so, against her better judgement, Y/N had allowed things to return to normal. The same weekly hangouts they once had becoming daily because of volleyball practice each day, forcing Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Y/N together for even longer periods of time. Walks homes becoming progressively longer as they all speak amongst themselves— or more accurately, Y/N and Yamaguchi speak. Then again, Tsukishima had always been more of the quiet kind unless he had something witty to add on.

This revival of friendship meant the return of the late night calls as well, of course. Albeit, most of them filled with a comfortable silence that Y/N finds herself relishing in a she lays in bed, eyes glued to the time shining in the corner of her phone screen.

11:52PM.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N rolls over on her bed, tugging at her sleeve to pull it down and reveal the counter on her wrist. There have been a few lies today, though there hadn’t been any in the past few hours. In recent months the number had been fluctuating more which Y/N found... odd.

Tsukishima seems to notice her shift in mood, though he doesn’t look up from his work as he asks, “what is it?” When Y/N doesn’t respond, he simply repeats himself, asking, “what’s wrong?

Y/N’s brows furrow as she huffs, bringing her arm back down and pushing herself up on her bed using her elbows before replying, “what do you mean?”

“The dramatic sigh.” Comes his reply, eyes still glued to the page in front of him as the sound of his pen moving against the paper fills his room.

Y/N looks to him on the screen incredulously as she scoffs, “it was not a dramatic sigh.”

A pause on his part as he looks down before replying, “I don’t even think you believe that Y/N.” He responds, rolling his eyes before adjusting his glasses at the bridge of his nose.

Sometimes Y/N wondered how he’d always been able to do that, read her like a book. Was she truly that predictable? Grimacing, Y/N brushes away the thought, “nothing is wrong?” Her response sounds more like a question, leaving her cringing at her inability to lie.

Tsukishima raises a brow as he dryly responds, “that was convincing.”

Y/N just sighs again, eyes drifting to her wrist once more— the counter now reset to zero as the day starts anew— as she pauses, wondering if the conversation would be worth it.

“Do you ever think of you soulmate, Tsukishima?”

His pen stops, and if Y/N was looking at the screen rather than her wrist, she would’ve seen the way he straightened in his seat as he replied, “no. I don’t.” He clears his throat, “no point in dwelling on someone I haven’t even met yet.”

Maybe Y/N would’ve replied had the counter not ticked up to 2 as he spoke.

But it was a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence.

“So... you haven’t met your soulmate yet?

Another moment of silence before he replies, “no.” With a sigh.

Y/N brings a hand to clasp over her mouth, “you’re kidding me.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “you’re fucking kidding me.” Y/N finds herself inhaling deeply as she attempts to calm herself. “How long have you known?”

Y/N WAS AVOIDING HIM, not that he didn’t deserve it, again. But that didn’t make it any better. Tsukishima found himself frowning as he stared at his eyes pierced into the back of her head, and for the first time he found himself hoping for a group project.

What a change in events.

Tsukishima was honestly more worried about what Yamaguchi would say once he found out that he and Y/N were fighting again but... that was something to worry about for another time.

“We’ll be having a group project once more today! If you haven’t realized already, this class is oriented around the idea of building you collaborative and social skills.”

Okay, maybe not another time.

Tsukishima can practically hear Y/N’s head fall against her desk, his eyes drifting back to her as the teacher drones on about the requirements of this assignment and how they’ll pick up the rubric once class ends and they can further review it tomorrow.

Probably because the bell rings almost immediately after.

Y/N has already shot up from her seat, tugging her back over her shoulder as she beelines for the exit of the class. And for once, Tsukishima finds himself making an effort to keep up with her as he calls out her name, “Y/N, stop.”

This seems to garner Yamaguchi’s attention, who jogs to keep up with the pair as they all exit the classroom, “guys? What’s going on?”

“Everything is fine, Yamaguchi!” Comes Y/N’s response from ahead of them, waving him off.

Yamaguchi’s brows furrow as he grabs Tsukishima’s wrist only to see that the counter has risen, causing him to look up at Tsukishima when he finally yanks his wrist away. “What did you do?”

Tsukishima looks to him incredulously, “what makes you think I did something?”

Yamaguchi looks to him blankly as he replies, “well Y/N isn’t chasing you through the halls, is she?” He rolls his eyes, jogging to get ahead of the both of them and block their path as he looked to them with furrowed brows, “what is going on guys?”

“Not now, Tadashi, please—”

“Tadashi?”

The group pauses in the empty hallway, most of the other students having left now that the day had ended, and the sound of Tsukishima’s voice is unlike anything Y/N has heard before as she sighs.

“I wish you had told me, Tsukishima.” Is all she mumbles out, before dragging a hand through her hair and pushing past the both of them, turning the corner of the hall and leaving them alone there.

A/N: gasp :0 yamaguchi?

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima x you #kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #kei x you #kei tsukishima x you #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x you #haiky #tsukishima kei x y/n #tsukishima x y/n #kei x y/n #kei tsukishima x y/n

289 notes · View notes

punkpoemprose · 3 years

Text

A Convenient Arrangement Part 10

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 8805 Words A/N: Long chapter-- distance makes the heart grow fonder, fluffy date time, questions answered, and Kristoff definitely finds his wife attractive.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

The week was a long one. They both would agree when or if asked, but if it wasn’t related to festival plans, no one was asking either one of them anything. When they rose in the morning, they scarcely had time to greet each other in the hall or over breakfast before knocks at the door would pull them each their own way.

Kristoff spent most of his days with Kai, learning all that he could about royal manners, the history of the kingdom, peerage, and the other pertinent information and skills required of a prince consort. He’d be the first to admit it, most of it went over his head. Sometimes when Kai spoke to him he thought that he understood the words well enough individually, but when they were strung together as they were, they may as well have been in French.

He really had no real interest in knowing whether it was more appropriate to bow or be bowed to when he met other members of the aristocracy which he was now technically a part of. He was doing his best to absorb what he could for Anna’s sake. He hated the idea that his lack of knowledge would reflect poorly on her because at the end of the day, even barely seeing her for a week, he cared deeply for her. He knew that part of making their marriage work was putting the effort in to understand her world.

When the lessons ended for the day, he would sometimes, but not always, have dinner with her. It felt like a small blessing to just be in her space since the announcement of the festival celebrating their engagement. He thought that it might be prudent to spend more time with her given that they were meant to at least appear a happy and doting couple to the public, but that detail seemed to be moot to whoever had decided to plan their days apart.

He supposed that he would seem in love with her regardless because he did have a fondness for her. He was beginning to understand the meaning of “distance makes the heart grow fonder” with each passing day. Every time they managed to dine together, he could often barely calm the racing of his heart while watching her enter the dining room, watching her sit across from him, close enough to look, but not to touch.

She’d ask him about what he had done each day and would share, in return, the plans she’d been making with her sister and the staff for the festival. He’d watch her carefully as they dined, noting the exhaustion in her posture that kept them from discussing much of anything past that. It was usually his only interaction with her each day, and it was always entirely too short.

Every night since the start of their overscheduled days, he’d slept in his room alone. Anna was usually needed elsewhere after dinner, attending to decisions and meetings that had been pushed late into the night. Sometimes she was being stolen for a fitting for her festival gown, other times decoration choices, and at least once she’d been taken for a chocolate tasting. That at least seemed to be the least objectionable way for her to spend her evenings of the lot. Each night he’d waited for her to return in vain, and each night he’d eventually headed to bed alone.

It had become strangely lonely to climb into his bed at the end of each day, knowing that she would do the same on the opposite side of their shared door. He’d slept alone for his entire life, but after only a few nights with Anna in his arms, he hated the way it felt to lay in the large empty bed without her. Some nights he would stay awake a short while, expecting to hear her knock or laying there wondering if she wanted him to knock. He’d never heard her knock though, he’d just hear the opening of her door, the soft thuds of drawers and doors as she prepared for bed, and then silence.

From across the room, the small chest he stored his things in would taunt him with the memory of something she’d said just a few days before. A crystal sat amongst his belongings, untouched, waiting for him to work up the courage to remove it from its wrappings.

It would make things so much simpler.

Or infinitely more complicated.

He’d fall asleep like that, wondering whether he should knock, whether he should bring her the gem, whether he should just let things be, or whether he should just go spend the night in the stables with Sven and his worries.

At least then I’d have someone to talk to. I don’t even care that he doesn’t speak back.

He slept in his bed each night, and when he woke each morning, he’d feel like he’d barely slept. By the end of the week, he could see the bags under his eyes when he shaved. Only two weeks living in the lap of luxury and it was already exacting a price from him.

At this rate I’ll be grey in a month.

When the knock came again, he sighed, cleaned the remaining soap from his face and shouted for the knocker to enter. He assumed that Kai was arriving with another of his famously packed schedules. While Kristoff rather liked the man, he’d begun to dread his morning arrival. He’d lived his entire life unscheduled, never bothering to pay much attention to the calendar or clock, and he wasn’t particularly thrilled by the concept of time being his master instead of he being the master of it.

The door swung open behind him with only a light sound of protest from the hinges that were still getting used to the room having an occupant. It had been unoccupied for many years, and the door seemed to have enjoyed its time off as even oiling it hadn’t stopped its protest. The soft click of its closure came immediately after, and Kristoff awaited the address from Kai that didn’t come.

There was, instead, a soft clicking of heeled shoes on the wood floor behind him as he wiped the water from his face. He didn’t think much of it or course, not until he heard another familiar voice that made his heart race.

“Kristoff?”

Anna’s voice startled him. Of course, they usually had a quick morning conversation over breakfast, but she hadn’t been in his room, nor he in hers, in a week. He turned to see her, red faced and staring at his chest.

She looked tired as well and there was a sort of tearfulness to her eye that made him nervous. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping well, and he wondered if she had been upset by something. He could admit to being a little more emotional than usual when he was tired, so he could relate, but he couldn’t quite read what was going on with Anna as she stared at him.

He tossed the towel aside. His hair, which he had been about to comb, was still wet and he could feel rivulets of water dripping down his back and over his chest. Despite the warmth of the sun through his window, he felt cool, hairs standing up on his arms as he closed the space between them in long strides.

As he approached, she was still staring at him, her face flushed, and her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something. She said nothing though, and he started to understand her expression a bit better. There was exhaustion there of course, but it was only serving to exacerbate the absolute frazzled countenance and posture she was currently performing.

It made him relax a bit. She didn’t look upset per say and he did know that his wife was not a morning person. He also had the sneaking suspicion that there was a small tinge of embarrassment in her eye and that it could explain the flush on her cheeks.

She blinked after a moment and looked up from his chest to meet his eye. He started to get the sense from as quickly as she looked away and to the floor that he understood.

Embarrassment.

It was a feeling that he had become remarkably familiar with in the last couple weeks. He’d spent years of his life half or completely naked in the woods, not knowing what it was like to worry about how he looked or sounded, but the castle was quickly making him aware of just how embarrassed he should be about, well, everything.

It was a feeling that he wasn’t particularly fond of in any way shape or form, but it was something he was getting used to. There was something at least a little bit reassuring in being comfortable with discomfort, knowing it was part of the process. Kai had been kind enough to show him that in their lessons, telling him that he was in the perfect position to always act as if he’d done nothing wrong even when he slipped up, and that if he didn’t react it didn’t give anyone else the room to do so either.

“I’m…” she started to stretch her hand out, reaching for him like she was going to press her palm into his chest.

He didn’t back away or shift from her reach, but her hand fell anyway.

“Sorry. I’m… I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to be… well that is… I didn’t know you were still getting ready. I’ll, oh gosh. I’ll leave.”

It all clicked into place then, and Kristoff couldn’t help but feel oddly amused. He felt a smile creeping to his face, completely unbidden, for the first time in a long while. He shook his head.

“No, you’re fine. I just finished up. I just need to put a shirt on and comb my hair. Did you need something?”

She seemed to collect herself somewhat as he responded. He watched as she nodded in return, still flushing, but focusing a bit more on making eye contact with him despite it.

“I thought that we could, um, skip the meetings today? I had Kai clear your schedule. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be nice to just get out for the day.”

Her voice went soft when she added, quietly, “I’ve missed you.”

He felt like she’d just handed him the most perfect gift he’d ever received. There was nothing he could imagine ever wanting more than spending time away from the castle with her. There was no greater gift than a break from the frustrating monotony of lessons with the built-in bonus of having her at his side.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He turned from her for a moment, crossing the room back to his dressing table. It was a motion with a twofold intention, allowing her to flush again without the scrutiny of his eye, and allowing him to dress and get ready as soon as possible. He could all but feel her relax behind him once his shirt was on, and it almost made him chuckle.

He remembered her sleeping against his bare chest, her face smushed against him as she slept in the most ridiculous and endearing way possible. It was a happy and sad memory, still fresh in his thoughts from how recent it had been. He’d enjoyed feeling her against him, but still remembered what it had felt like to have her shaking, crying into his shirt just before they slept. He pondered why seeing him without a shirt in the light of day was somehow more blush-worthy but decided that he’d rather not dig too deep into it. He’d be happy if they saw a day where she wasn’t embarrassed around him at all. She had no reason to be.

“You look nice,” she said after a short time.

He’d felt her eyes on him as he’d finished readying himself for the day. He walked over to her, tying his sash around his waist as he went.

He hadn’t been convinced by Kai to change his style of dress, and he had been grateful that the man hadn’t really tried to convince him to do so at all. As a result of this, he was told that he had more clothes coming to him than he’d ever owned before, and that they would be in finer fabrics than he’d ever ben about to afford. He was grateful though that they would mostly mimic the styles he’d always worn, and that they would fit. He couldn’t ask for a better outcome to his tailoring situation than that.

He would have locked himself in the palace’s dungeon before he would have worn all the frills and layers of other men of station. He understood the need for a good suit but would never quite be on board with lace. He evidently had a set of formalwear arriving soon, and while he wasn’t particularly excited about it, he had been promised that his daily wear would not be nearly so embellished and that what he had coming was downright innocuous compared to the season’s fashions. Kai had called it “timeless” and he hoped that what he meant by that was “simple”.

Anna seemed cautious when she walked to his side after offering the compliment. Kristoff held his breath when she reached out a hand and gently smoothed a wrinkle in the front of his shirt with her palm.

Having her hands on him always felt good. There was no denying the fact that he enjoyed her attentions, and he couldn’t help but grin when her touch lingered a little longer than strictly necessary. He’d been longing to see her for days, to hold her hand, to even stand near her side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly after he allowed himself to breathe again.

He turned his attention to what she wore. It was perhaps the simplest dress he’d ever seen her wear, save of course for her nightgowns. It was dark green with some small embroidered details around the neck. It looked a bit like little flowers and birds, though he didn’t dare dip his head down towards her neck to investigate further. He didn’t think he could keep himself from pressing a kiss to her neck if he did. Even without further inspection, the fabric seemed light, like if he touched her waist while she wore it, she might be able to feel the roughness of his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful.”

She grinned at the compliment and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that she was happy to hear such a thing from him of all people.

“Thank you.”

He watched as she laced her fingers together behind her back and fidgeted a bit. Her nervousness came through when she spoke again.

“Since we’re going out I didn’t want to wear anything that would draw too much attention. I’m glad you still like it.”

He almost laughed, but held the reaction in. He wondered how she could ever be nervous about her appearance, as if she weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As if he wouldn’t have thought that she was gorgeous even if they weren’t married. As if every man with eyes in a mile wouldn’t notice her even if she wore rags.

“I’ve told you before Anna, you’ll still turn heads. It has nothing to do with what you wear.”

He meant it, and he was rewarded by a shy smile and the unlacing of her fingers from each other, only to slip between his. The way his heart raced from her simply holding his hand made his face red.

Does she know how easily I’d fall apart for her?

He had to chase the thought away. He had to focus on the moment they were in before he said something he shouldn’t, something they weren’t ready for yet.

“So,” he asked, “What are we doing today?”

She shrugged a bit, then started to pull him toward the door to the hallway with her. He didn’t resist, letting himself be tugged along at her mercy.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Every time she smiled, with every moment he spent holding her hand, he fell in love a bit deeper.

***

Anna’s morning had, thus far, not gone according to plan. Of course, there had barely been a plan to begin with, but blushing like a schoolgirl over seeing her husband shirtless and having her sister find out about her intentions to leave the castle weren’t exactly indicative of what it was that she’d had in mind.

As a consequence of the latter unplanned component of her day, she now found herself and her fortunately-and-unfortunately-fully-dressed husband being followed by a royal guard in full uniform. She felt like she was thirteen, being chaperoned on a date instead of being an adult woman out on a walk with her husband.

It’s not like I’m planning to snog him in the middle of the market.

Then a more judicious thought.

Of course, I didn’t plan a lot of things that have been happening lately.

She shook it off and instead focused on her recollection of her conversation with her sister.

“There’s still some unrest amongst the people Anna, what would you do if someone decided to take their anxiety out on you?”

She’d wanted to respond in several ways, most of which were incredibly sarcastic, but the forerunners had been each unique in their ability to elicit a response from her sister.

I would survive. You’ve taken your anxieties out on me twice.

From Elsa: Sadness.

I would fight them.

From Elsa: Long suffering exhaustion.

I would let my incredibly big and strong husband take care of it for me while I ogle him from the sidelines because while I love to fight my own battles, I also think it would be nice to watch him fight someone for me so I could watch those biceps flex.

Embarrassment on both of their parts.

Anna had, in the last week of barely seeing him but at meals and in passing, taken a particular interest in her husband’s physique. The morning’s events were not even close to the first time she’d looked at him and thought about what it would be like to be in his arms again, to have his large hands spanning her waist, lifting her off her feet and up closer to him.

So close that we could kiss.

She’d been longing for his touch since the first night she’d slept along. All week, once she managed to slip into a fitful sleep, she’d dreamt of him kissing her. She could still remember how real it had felt in her sleep, not that she knew what it would really feel like. They’d kissed at their wedding, her first and only “real” kiss, but the sort of deep, attentive kiss she’d received from him in her dream was something she’d never experienced.

I want to. I desperately want to.

They were in the residential district of the city. The cobbles of the path were fairly worn, but even below her feet. There were places here and there that she was already mentally noting needed improvement. A few lamps had cracked glass that likely made them unreliable on breezy evenings, some places in the road were low and held water that didn’t drain off easily. She would tell Elsa and ensure that a more formal investigation of the city and national infrastructure was eventually made. Personally, she thought that such a thing might be the better way to improve public opinion of the monarchy than a grand display of power and wealth, but she couldn’t pretend that her wedding hadn’t improved things.

Every now and then as they walked, she’d catch someone looking at her twice. Most people were away from home, working or learning at school, but a few people were home or in the area. Older people and young mothers mostly looked at her with recognition, and she did her best to give them a shy smile without giving the indication that she was available to stop and chat. It was a delicate dance. She liked to speak with her people, of course, but she truly just wanted to spend some time with her husband. One tagalong is already bad enough.

She’d wanted to go to the market. She’d thought it might be enjoyable to see the wares she’d only watched traded from above, but her unwanted guard had insisted that “her royal highness and her consort refrain from entering any highly trafficked and indefensible zones” which had, essentially made a trip to the market impossible unless she wanted a full guard detail.

That would certainly inspire confidence in the monarchy. Hello peasants, we don’t trust you to not murder our Princess, don’t mind the platoon of men you may or may not know who are, at any moment, prepared to stab you!

She’d all but felt Kristoff rolling his eyes in response to the guard’s words. It was like she sensed the expression he was making at her side before she’d even caught him actually making it.

“It’s just a little further… I think,” she said a bit nervously, squeezing Kristoff’s arm as they walked down the street together.

There were a few specialty shops that weren’t housed in the market district, and while she hadn’t visited any of them in many years, she thought that she’d recalled the location of the shop she was after. Thought, of course was the appropriate term given that nothing looked exactly as it had the last time she’d been in the area. The years had a funny way of changing things, and she hadn’t been to the shop without her mother which was indicative of the time that had passed since she’d seen it last.

Kristoff didn’t seem to mind the somewhat aimless walking they were doing. Anna suspected that if she told him the locations she desired to reach, he’d have an answer for her, but she liked keeping it a secret. It gave some small crumb of fun back to the adventure which had been intended to be more daring before their escort had been assigned.

“I bet you know these streets better than I do,” she said after a few more moments of walking, giving voice to her thoughts.

Mostly she was just endeavoring to break the silence between them. He’d seemed rather thrilled to leave the castle, but he’d been quiet since they left. She had a feeling that their unwelcome follower was making him as uncomfortable as it was making her annoyed.

“Not so much in these side streets,” he replied.

He pulled her ever so slightly right as they walked, helping her to avoid a puddle she hadn’t noticed until he was steering her around it. It was sweet, she thought, that he was saving her shoes from getting damp. She also didn’t mind how easily he’d pulled her even closer to his side with the gesture, putting her even more in his space.

“I do know the market fairly well though. When I sell ice I tend to stay over that way.”

Anna nodded and gave him an appreciative squeeze for the assistance with the puddle. He was absolutely the helpful sort, but somehow she doubted that he advertised himself that way. She got the distinct sense in his interactions with the guards, the staff, and anyone else she’d seen him forced to interact with, that he’d rather be seen as gruff and unapproachable. He wasn’t overly so with her, but she sometimes felt that he acted like a grump when in reality he just felt awkward or uncomfortable.

She tended to talk a lot when she felt the same way. It was something she knew about herself, that she dealt with anxiety with exuberance and self-deprecation. She was trying to get a better handle on it, and now with Kristoff at her side she found that it was easier to lean on him for support when she was feeling out of control. She hoped that he’d find he could do the same with her.

When she noticed the shop she was looking for nestled between two houses to their left she excitedly tugged Kristoff in return. She hadn’t been there in a great many years, but the old building still looked the way she remembered it as a child.

Oaken’s Thrifted Goods, Antiques and Consignments.

She’d traveled there every now and again with her mother who, despite being the Queen of their nation, was practical and more interested in the old than the new. They’d always looked for things there that reminded her mother of her youth, little things that were made by hand that reminded Anna that while few knew it, her mother had been common as well.

She sometimes wished that she had asked more questions of her mother, that she had learned the story of how she’d met her father and how they’d come to be wed. All Anna did know was that Iduna wasn’t born in Arendelle and that she was not royal by blood. There were some records somewhere in the archives about her being given a duchy somewhere in the direction of the hinterlands, and with the suddenness that she’d shown up in her father’s public life, she supposed that everyone must have assumed that she was born noble and had simply spent her whole life in the hills.

Maybe, she thought, Kristoff wouldn’t feel so out of place if he knew that he was not the first consort to Arendelle royalty to have been born common. She wondered if he would take comfort in the fact that the nation’s Queen hadn’t had an ounce of royal blood and that it had been purposeful. Marrying for love was not common for aristocracy, but her parents had done it.

“Oaken’s?”

Kristoff seemed confused, staring at the sign for a moment as if in disbelief.

“Yes?”

Anna stopped short of the door, feeling as confused as he was, her confusion having everything to do with his confusion and nothing to do with the shop before them. She didn’t think that the shop had ever moved. It might have changed hands in the years since she’d been there last, the owner had been an older man so she supposed it was possible that the shop was now run by someone who was not an Oaken. She wondered if that was the point of confusion for him, maybe he thought that the business had been renamed or something.

“There’s an Oaken who owns a trading post up in the mountains. It couldn’t be the same guy, right?”

Anna shrugged; she really couldn’t say for sure. She was glad to understand why he was confused, and she couldn’t help but try to recall whether or not the last name was terribly common.

“Because uh…” he looked back toward the guard, and then back at Anna seeming a little sheepish.

He ducked down and whispered in her ear, “The Oaken I know, he and I occasionally get into arguments over pricing. We’ve mostly worked it out, but I thought you should know in case we walk in and I get the stink eye.”

Anna tried to hold back her laugh, but to no avail.

He gave her an exasperated look when she walked them through the door, turning back to tell the guard he wasn’t needed indoors.

“Yet.”

***

Kristoff was grateful to know that the Oaken inside the shop was not the Oaken he’d recently had some “pricing debates” with. They rarely really argued, but he’d felt on one or two occasions that his arguments with Oaken brought the usually even-tempered man to the point of anger. They’d always sorted it out of course, but he was still waiting for the day that the man would throw him out on his rear over a debate.

No, this Oaken was much older, possibly the father of the man he knew, or some other elderly relative given the similarity of their faces and builds. He seemed similarly even tempered thus far, but perhaps a bit less enthusiastic. He’d been pleasant with Anna of course, recognizing her as the crown Princess and evidently a former customer, but he’d also told them in no unspecific terms that he was too old to help them and that if they had any questions, they should come to him because he was not going to them.

“Isn’t it so neat in here?”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile as he saw Anna taking in the many items packed into the small building. They were arranged neatly, everything from old steamer trunks and hand-crafted furniture to piles of old keys and shelves of dusty books.

Anna grinned at all of it, openly gazing about the space like it was full of gold instead of second and third hand items. He thought that it was charming in a way, that the practical used items of the people who lived in her kingdom were of interest to her.

“My mother and I used to spend hours here when I was a little girl. She taught me how to sew using old tablecloths we bought here… not that I’m particularly good at it, but I can put a button back on if I need to.”

He couldn’t help but find her excitement at least a little bit contagious as he gazed upon the shelves and tables of items with her. There was something about the well-worn tools and broken in chairs in the space that spoke to him in a way that the fancy spotless trappings of the castle just couldn’t. He’d always been practical, and the items here were nothing if not sensible.

“It’s strange for me to try to imagine a Queen here,” he said, hoping that she took no offense to his saying so.

He was happy when he noticed Anna smiling fondly.

“My mom wasn’t really the royal type… not that she didn’t act like a Queen, because she did. She just never saw the point in waste, and she liked simple things. I have a shawl of hers that she had since she was a girl, a pretty handmade thing that she mended herself. That’s how I usually remember her; warm and pragmatic.”

“I’d probably describe my mom the same way,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet yours.”

Anna looked sad for a moment, but Kristoff could tell that it wasn’t his fault. The space brought it out of her as much as it brought her joy. He knew it was her first time here without her, and he was glad that they were talking about it. He was glad that she’d brought him somewhere so important to her.

“I’m sorry too,” she said before taking a deep breath and adding, “she would have liked you.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave her what he hoped came off as an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand.

When she squeezed back and leaned into this side, for the first time in a week, he felt like he could truly relax.

“I thought we’d look for some things for your room?”

There was a bit of trepidation in her voice that he registered as nerves coming through. He wondered how long they would be nervous when they spoke to each other, how often they’d be walking on glass with one another. He already trusted her, and he desperately wanted to show himself to be worthy of her trust in return. Testing the already tenuous bonds of their fledgling relationship was understandably nerve wracking.

“I don’t really need much… I brought most of my things with me.”

He didn’t want to shut her down. He didn’t want to say no when she clearly wanted to do something with him. He just was unused to the idea of buying things for himself. He usually only bought what he couldn’t make or find himself

She’s trying.

“I… I know, it’s just… I know the room isn’t probably the way you want it to be. I remember your cabin being a lot cozier and I thought that maybe we could find some things here to make it a little more like that. Elsa suggested we get a decorator for you to consult with, but I kind of thought you’d hate that so…”

She let out a sort of nervous laugh and he felt his heart racing in his chest.

She’s been thinking about this. She’s been thinking about you.

“I… I’m not used to buying things… or having things bought for me. It just feels strange I suppose.”

Anna’s fingers slipped from his then, and the loss of contact was immediately distressing until she felt them tentatively shifting up his arm and wrapping around his bicep. She stepped in front of him and gave him a soft smile before pulling him in the direction of the nearby bookshelves that separated the front and back of the shop, forming an archway between them.

Once they had slipped past the shelves, she pulled him into a smaller alcove in the shop filled from floor to ceiling in small, labeled drawers. According to their labels they held everything from furniture hardware to saltshakers and children’s toys. She leaned into him once they were in the space, hiding them away in the already empty shop save for its owner.

“Please,” she said softly.

She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. He thought that she looked a bit determined despite the hesitancy she’d shown a few minutes before.

“I know this is all new and strange to you, but I really just… I want to do something for you. Please? I wasn’t even able to get you a wedding gift, and frankly if you’re worried about money… I guess no one told you about my dowry?”

He blinked for a moment, trying to focus on what she was saying when all he could think about was that she was hugging him. A week away from her touch, and only being somewhat familiar with the feeling of having her wrapped around him was taking its toll on his mind. He was already frazzled, just by the way it felt to have her against him again.

He wrapped his arms around her in return and noticed the way she melted into him a little more as he did so. He did his best to catalogue all the ways in which she was making him feel, and he flushed a bit when he realized that the embrace, combined with the doe eyed gaze she was giving him, was causing a very specific sort of reaction in him that he’d thus far been managing in her presence.

His wife was beautiful, he was getting a very good view of her freckled decolletage, and he was very much a man. He could feel his face going red again.

“I’m sorry,” he said a bit nervously realizing he hadn’t really heard what she’d said, “What?”

“I want to get you some things as a wedding gift, but if you’d prefer… I guess no one told you about the dowry, but there’s…” she cleared her throat, seeming embarrassed to be discussing money with him, “there’s a lot there. I think you have an account with the treasury, maybe Kai was going to tell you later, but anyway… you can afford to purchase things on your own if you want… I just, I really wanted to do something for you today. I wanted to do something with you.”

He almost asked about the dowry, the heart attack that revelation gave him being enough to distract him from the line his thoughts had been running in, but he could tell the discussion was making Anna uncomfortable. He didn’t exactly feel like telling her in this fraught moment that he wanted no bride price from her, and that certainly didn’t need the sort of exorbitant amount of money she was implying.

“If you would enjoy it,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat when the words came out a bit muddled, “I’m sure we could find something. You’re right, the room isn’t exactly cozy.”

I can’t tell her that I prefer her room over mine.

She smiled then and leaned her head into his chest. He felt the tension leaving both of their bodies when he pulled her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He pressed a kiss into her hair and reveled in the soft sound she made in return. He longed for the day he’d kiss her properly.

***

Anna had almost felt bad relegating their guard to purchase handling duty.

Almost.

Of course, it hadn’t been his fault that he’d been sent to mettle in her day plans, but she was still a little miffed that he’d prevented her from taking Kristoff into the market to pick out some new things for his room. She knew that it was because Elsa had been the one to insist upon his guarding, but Anna wished that sometimes people were more amenable to bending her sister’s rules. She certainly was herself.

It didn’t matter now though, not when she felt Kristoff’s hand at her back, supporting her on the ladder they’d requested be brought up to his room so that Anna could hang the sage green curtains they’d managed to find at the shop.

He’d laughed at her glee over finding them, and she’d felt genuinely happy to be laughed at. She liked that her enthusiasm brought him joy, and truly she hadn’t felt like she was being laughed at by him. The better term would be that he was laughing with her, and she thought that if it was something that they could do together every day, their marriage would be exactly what she’d always wanted.

All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to love me.

She saw it in his eye when he helped her off the ladder. The joy of sharing the domesticity of the day with her, the spark of something that she might dare call like if not love. She held the joy it brought her in her heart, locked it up tight so that nothing that might occur in the next week leading up to the festival might steal it from her.

“You’re right,” he said warmly, “They do make it feel less…”

“Formal,” she finished.

The curtains were simple, a plain sage green with some small vines at the very top and bottom embroidered in white thread. Had she been any good at it, or had she had the patience for it, she liked to think that it would have been the sort of thing she would have made for him.

He nodded, and she felt his hands linger at her waist even when she was standing back on solid ground.

They’d shared lunch when they’d returned, eating it at the table in his room that was now decorated with a small candle holder she’d found that reminded them both of Sven’s antlers.

“When they bring the high back chairs up from storage, I think that’ll help too. We can have them put by the fireplace.”

She’d insisted that since he hadn’t allowed her to purchase any furniture for him, even used, that he select some furniture from the castle storage to improve the comfort of the space. He had selected a few items from a list she’d sent for while they were dining and she was rather pleased by his choices.

Making his room more comfortable for him was something that she was taking great enjoyment from.

That I’m also making it more comfortable for me is just a bonus.

She couldn’t really lie to herself. It was, in part, by design that she had insisted on two chairs instead of one, and that she’d encouraged him to pick a lovely quilt from the shop that made her think of the one they’d been wrapped in at his cabin. She couldn’t deny that she was thinking ahead to a time where perhaps she’d spend more time in his space, though she could hardly dare to think about a time beyond that, a time where his things would blend together with hers and where they would spend every night together. A time where the door between their rooms wouldn’t be needed.

Her heart raced every time the thought crossed her mind.

He lifted up the last remaining item they had to find a home for, a small wooden trinket box that he’d taken an interest in early on in their search. It had been amongst a pile of tools but had not been large enough to hold any of them. It was simple, smaller than her jewelry boxes, but roomy enough to fit a few small objects. The top had a line of trees burned into it but was the only decoration on the piece.

“I think I know what belongs in here,” he said after a few moments of looking it over.

I think I do too.

Her heart raced when he crossed the room to his chest and kneeled to the floor to open it. She’d been hoping, quietly, almost secretively to even herself, that he would want to show her the crystals again.

What did it mean? Why did he nearly kiss me after I told him about the glow?

***

The crystals were wrapped loosely in scraps of fabric, protecting their rough natural edges from chipping and breaking. He could feel the soft hum of magic inside each of them, even through the cloth. His parents had taught him how to feel it, encouraging him to focus on it and to guide the magic into his hands. He would never be able to control it as they did. Magic didn’t run in his blood like it did theirs, but as Anna approached behind him, he made the choice to show her, at least as much as he could, the importance of the gems.

He patted the floor beside him and was grateful when she didn’t hesitate to sit at his side in front of the box. He watched as she quickly settled herself to his side, her knees bumping into his gently as she sat.

“I think they deserve a special home,” he said, gesturing to the box he’d already set on his other side.

One deserves a very special home. It belongs with you.

The thought didn’t exactly catch him off guard as much as it slipped through the cracks of the wall he’d been holding it behind. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had a great deal of hope about what Anna had said before about the crystal, because to admit that would be to invite disappointment when the outcome was decidedly not what he was hoping for.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I love her. If it’s not by fate it’s at least by choice.

He took some small comfort in it as he unwrapped the gems and lifted out the yellow one first.

“This one,” he said, focusing on the way it felt warm in his palm, encouraging it to give off a light glow, “is a fire crystal. They come in a few shades of red and orange and yellow. The trolls can actually start fires with them, but I can get it to warm up a little if I really focus on it.”

After a moment of quiet between them he heard her gasp as the crystal began to glow a pale yellow. He couldn’t help but grin when he handed it to her and let her watch the glow fade. He noticed the way she hovered a hand above the stone feeling the slight warmth radiate off of it from above as she felt it in her palm. She seemed thoroughly impressed and he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud to have been able to show it to her.

He handed her the small box and watched as she carefully set the stone inside. Once she was finished, he pulled out the next crystal, the blue one. He’d never had quite as much luck getting an effect with it, but he could make it glow.

“This one is a water crystal. The trolls can get them to make rain, but I’ve only ever been able to get a little condensation on the outside and I’m not convinced it wasn’t just sweat from my hand.”

When she laughed he felt light.

It’s easy to feel hopeful when everything she does makes my heart race.

The gem let off a light glow, but little more. She seemed impressed nevertheless and when he handed it to her, she focused on it in her palm for a short while before setting it too into the box with great care.

He had to remind himself to breathe watching her look from the box to him. When her eye met his, a strange knowingness there, he felt fear leave him. They were so close that he could easily kiss her, just by leaning in. He let the cloth fall away from the last crystal and forced himself to inhale deeply, breaking their eye contact to turn his attention to the pale pink gem.

She’s my wife. I love her.

“This one,” he began, lifting it from the fabric with his other hand to show her better, “This one is special. Every man in my family receives one when they reach adulthood, and they guard it closely. Its magic is special because it’s tied to the heart. I never really listened to everything my father told me about it because I never thought I’d have a reason to show it to anyone, but…”

She was looking at him intently, her eyes meeting his and then glancing to his lips. He felt his heart racing.

“Why doesn’t it glow when you hold it?” she asked, breaking the long silence where he’d let his speech drop off.

He gave her a soft, almost rueful smile. She felt like there was a joke there that she didn’t understand.

“Because it’s mine,” he started, then after a moment’s thought, continued, “It’s confusing and hard to explain if you weren’t raised knowing about it, but essentially the trolls think that everyone has a fated partner, a second half. You know they believe in fate, we discussed it when you met them, but this is the ultimate show of that belief. The only person that is supposed to make your gem glow is your soulmate.”

She flushed and he longed to give her a better reason to do so than a crystal. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and tell her that it didn’t matter whether or not it glowed when she touched it. He wanted to kiss her and show her how little it mattered to him, but it would be a lie.

It does matter. I love her. I want her to see that I will only ever love her.

He knew she’d be crushed if it didn’t.

He watched as she extended her hand to him slowly. There was a shine to her eye that he understood as nerves. She’d told him before that the gem had glowed when she’d touched it, but he had thought about all the things it could have been, and was sure that she was worried about it as well.

A trick of the light, a fluke, a misremembrance from a day where she’d been given shock after shock.

“You don’t have to.”

She gave him a soft smile in return.

“I think we both know that I do.”

There was a finality in the way she cautiously uncurled her fingers, insisting that he deposit the gem in her hand. He wondered if she truly believed what she had seen before, or if the nerves he had seen in her were from the concern that it wouldn’t react to her touch.

He dropped it into her palm and felt the racing of his heart reach a crescendo.

Pink.

***

Anna felt her heart racing as he handed her the gem. She could see in his eyes that this meant even more than he was saying.

Soulmates. The glowing means we’re soulmates.

She’d spent her whole life wanting to be wanted, wanting to be someone’s everything. She tried to shake off her concerns that she’d been seeing things before when she’d made the gem glow in his cabin, but it was hard to believe that she had always been meant for someone, that she and Kristoff had been fated to be together.

She saw the shakiness of his normally steady hand as he held the gem over her palm, and she had to remind herself to breathe in the moments before he released it into her hand.

She gasped when the cold gem hit her skin and immediately sent a bright pink glow across her palm.

Fate.

Soulmates.

She’d already known. Something inside her had known since their wedding night, even before the trolls, that with Kristoff was where she was meant to be. The confirmation had her joyous.

He wrapped his hand over hers when he recognized the light, squeezing the gem between their palms and doing nothing to dampen the glow. If anything, Anna thought that it might be glowing even more under the combined touch of their skin. She didn’t have long to notice whether it was true or not though, because her view was quickly blocked by Kristoff entering her space.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her to him enthusiastically. She let an appreciative, borderline needy, sound slip from her mouth and was rewarded by the press of his lips to hers.

It was a remarkably different kiss to the one they’d shared at their wedding. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t chaste, and it wasn’t required.

She took the hand that was not entwined with his and let it slip up to his hair naturally. She’d wanted to slide her fingers through his hair for well over a week, and now it felt instinctive to do so. Her hand squeezed a bit tighter against his as she deepened the kiss, feeling the way he drew her in even closer as she did so.

She didn’t try to tame the soft sounds of pleasure that slipped from her mouth and into his, she didn’t fight it when he kissed her breathless. She simply forged ahead, feeling safe and loved in her husband’s arms, kissing him with love and appreciation.

My husband. My soulmate. How could I ever have doubted it for even a moment?

***

He hated to be the one to break the kiss, especially after being the one to initiate it. Unfortunately, what he could remember of his family’s tradition dictated that he stop kissing her at some point. He had work to do now, and there was only one place he could do it.

He let his free hand slide up from where he’d been holding her, to her cheek, cradling it. Her eyes were still half lidded and showed pleasure in their darkness as she looked from his lips to his eyes. She was glowing as much as the gem was, and he couldn’t help but to take a moment to just stare at how beautiful his wife was.

She leaned her head into his palm lovingly, almost nuzzling him. He thought that someday if she allowed him to, they’d sit just like this again and he’d count each and every freckle on her nose and cheeks. It was a scene that played out nicely in his thoughts, giving him the strength through promises of the future, to pull away.

“I’m sorry Anna, but I have to leave for tonight. I have to go do something… I have to tell…”

“You have to tell your family,” she said matter of factly, understanding in the face of his uncertain apologetics.

“It’s okay,” she added after a moment, “I’ll still be here when you come home.”

What she didn’t say, but what he heard in her tone was the “I love you”.

He leaned in again and when she kissed him, he felt the words in the act. He tried his best to give it to her in return.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Anna, my wife, my soulmate, I love you.

Someday soon he’d say it out loud.

#kristanna #frozen fanfiction #A Convenient Arrangement #Arranged Marriage AU

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