#if tom wants to use child celebrity he’s allowed to

[tomathy-inside-of-the-it]

Awh Tommy this all sucks so much, I’m glad he’s comfortable enough to express himself :( I think we should collectively give him a license to kill. Not tubbo, but maybe someone else. As a treat

full reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/tommyinnit/s/LWAlUPAyaC

#tommyinnit #stole these screenshots from jess mellohibench on twitter #yknow the lesbian dog person #In all seriousness I really hope he’s able to take time for himself after the tour #poor dude :/ #I hope he knows his fans will understand completely if he needs to step away from ytb #if tom wants to use child celebrity he’s allowed to #I think getting people showing up AT your house gives you the right #I need him to never hate on himself for being stressed ever again #Im all for rich people knowing their privilege but my guy you can be stressed!!! Its okay!!! You’re going through stuff!!!!!!!!! #(parasocial)

[pacifymebby]

Peaky Blinders where it’s nearing the holiday season and they see her getting along with the children at a family gathering (or something like that) and ponder the idea of them having kids of their own that she would treat that way

Tommy

🌿The manor is decorated beautifully this year, the tree is huge (HUGE!) because Tommy knows how excited you get for Christmas and he wants you to have the perfect day this year.

🌿He had promised to be home in time to help you decorate it with the children. Ada and Karl are visiting, John, Esme and the babies too... So the house is alive with the sound of excited children running riot

🌿But Tommys late... Its snowed and the cars struggling in the bad weather, he's getting frustrated, he doesnt want to upset you and he knows you'll be disappointed if he isnt there to put the star on top of the tree.

🌿Its not disappointment youre feeling however its worry, the more late it gets the more worried you are

🌿But theres so many little ones running around that you dont have time to dwell on your fears

🌿Youve always had a way with kids, probably because youre still a child at heart and so you let the other Shelby women take a welcome rest, staying with the children whilst they sit back and relax.

🌿 When Tommy finally makes it home he gets a slap from his sister "Your poor girlfriends been worried sick about you, why the fuck didn't you phone..."

🌿But you don't look worried to him, when he stops in the doorway he has to pause to admire the sight of you.

🌿Youre holding one of Johns little ones in your arms, helping them to put a bauble on one of the higher branches.

🌿 You haven't noticed him and he doesnt want you to, he wants to stand and admire the touching site for as long as it lasts. The glow of the lights on you and the wean, the way you gasp and give the child a big smile when she manages to hook the bauble on. "Clever girl, well done sweetheart look isn't it beautiful"

🌿 Aye, tommy thinks its definitely beautiful.

🌿He recieves a second slap from Ada who has been watching him watching you the whole time... Its lighter this time and theres a knowing smile on her face

🌿"Fucking marry her first Tommy."

🌿When he comes up to join you by the tree, he puts his hand to your head, bending down to kiss your head before opening his arms up for the little one to hug him too.

🌿 When one of your own sisters little ones runs up to him too, tugging on his trouser leg for a carry he chuckles, scoops them up and stands with the child on his hip and you under his arm. Makes him feel like hes part of a family.

🌿 "You look good with a baby in your arms y/n," "Maybe that's what you can give me for christmas eh Tom?"

Alfie

🐻 He doesnt mind children, he doesn't love them either, in truth hes always felt a little awkward around them, having to watch his mouth, never knowing what the hell they are going on about...

🐻 But, and he doesnt understand why, they seem to gravitate to him, they like the grumpy old man with the strange stories, they think hes funny

🐻 He doesn't celebrate Christmas either, so he feels a little awkward visiting your parents for a family christmas, when he's not used to the traditions and your older siblings' children are all excited, practically fizzing over

🐻 He's in awe of the way you seem to handle them. Like some fucking christmas miracle worker... You seem to have a way of calming them, hushing them right up and settling them.

🐻 After Christmas dinner when your family go for a walk in the snow, Alfies leg won't allow him to join you and so, not wanting to leave him alone on Christmas, even though he says he'll be fine, you stay behind

🐻 And when your brothers wife sees the opportunity to gift her little one to you for the afternoon youre more than happy to take her in.

🐻 Your niece is only small, barely even two yet, but shes lively and she doesn't look like shes about to have a nice afternoon nap. So when youve gotten Alfie comfortable with his leg up on the sofa, you lie on the floor with the baby, playing with her, tickling and giggling.

🐻 Alfie had planned on drifting to sleep, taking a well earned little break, but now hes started watching you he doesnt want to look away.

🐻 Cause its "fuckin adorable innit,"

🐻You being so at ease with the little ones makes him feel more at ease and so after a little while he sighs dramatically.

🐻 "Oh go on then, come give your uncle Alfie a cuddle," you can't hide how thrilled you are that hes warming up to the little ones. You want babies with him so badly but youve always been worried about whether he actually wants them.

🐻 "Well i don't know what that surprised look on your face is for poppet, gotta start practicing haven't i?" "They might start popping out of you next zieskiet..."

Arthur

🍂Usually at Christmas its Arthurs job to be Santa. Its not a job he absolutely adores, but he certainly likes it more than he makes out.

🍂 You can see through his act though, when he stsrts grumbling about that fucking santa suit. You know really he likes it, likes making the kids happy, enjoys making everyone smile.

🍂 But he doesn't have kids of his own yet and what he doesnt realise is that this christmas is going to make him yearn for little ones of his own more than ever before

🍂 Because this year hes going to have to watch you with Tommy and Adas tots, playing outside in the snow helping them win snowball fights against their mean daddy and uncle.

🍂 Watching you scoop little Ruby up out of the snow, bundling her up in her arms protectively so that uncle her old uncle charlie cant get her... Watching you both squeal and giggling when her uncle Arthur takes you both by surprise pulling you down into the soft snow with him

🍂 Then getting to bundle you up and take you back inside, you handing Ruby over to Tommy. You almost look sad to be giving the sweet girl back

🍂Youre sitting by the fire under a blanket, the little ones mostly all worn out, you're eyeing Lizzie almost enviously as she cuddles sleeping Ruby to her breast.

🍂 Arthur throws himself down beside you, a little drunk, but feeling calm and peaceful and full of hope. "This time next year love, you ain't gonna have time for playing with nobody elses babies..." "oh, whys that?" you almost look glum, and he can’t have that, not his girl, not on Christmas "cause santas gonna make sure youve got babies of your own..."

John (besties just pretend he didn’t die for me okay?)

🌼 John thinks its adorable how shy you get around other peoples children, you get this look about you thats a kind of yearning, but timid too? He can tell how much you want children of your own, but you don't want to infringe on other parents by playing with their children

🌼 Whenever you spend time with Tommy and Ada's children you do the same, you get shy... John thinks its hilarious, he loves it.

🌼 So he likes torturing you by putting you in positions where you have to deal with the kids. And the kids love you, even if you don't really see that... Youre a natural with them

🌼 And john really wants you to see that, because he wants so many kids with you... He just needs to know you're ready, that you wont be scared of being a mum.

🌼 You’re at the manor when Tommy calls a board meeting suddenly in the middle of the party, on Christmas Eve of all the times to hold an emergency meeting... but John and the rest of the family do as he says, naturally...

🌼 You not being married, don’t need to go to the board meeting, and even if you had been welcome, you wouldn’t have wanted to go “someone should stay with the kids,” you’d said to excuse yourself before it could become awkward...

🌼so thats what you do, you stay with the kids, and you’re glad, because kids aren’t stupid, especially not Shelby kids. They know something bad must have happened, and when the rest of the adults leave the children are quiet, they seem scared or worried, at least a little deflated and it breaks your heart

🌼 so you get brave, you get down from the sofa so that you’re on the floor with them, and you crawl to be close to them, “who wants to hear a little story?” at first they don’t seem convinced but you know this story off by heart, your dad used to tell you it every Christmas Eve. 

🌼 “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...” you tap little Ruby on the nose and she makes a little squeak like a mouse. The kids all look curious now, and, little smiles on their faces. 

🌼 “When out on the lawn their arose such a clatter...” you crawl to the tree and take some jungle bells from a branch, letting them chime and jingle. They gasp and giggle and shush each other and the more pleased with the story they become the more confident you feel.

🌼 Its a short meeting, the family return but John stops them in the doorway, you haven't noticed he’s been watching you but he knows the story you’re telling too, knows it’s nearly finished and that if the rest of the family come back you will get shy and won’t want to finish it. So he hushes his family and holds them back just long enough to let you finish. 

🌼 by the end you’ve got little ruby in your lap, she keeps jingling the bells whilst you finish the poem.

🌼 John can’t help the glow of pride in him, he thinks you’re magic, the way you’ve captured their attention, made them hopeful and happy despite the worry and tension in the air. You’d be a perfect mother in this dark little family.

🌼 “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” he finishes the last line of the poem for you as he walks in, a smile on his lips as he comes to join you, “what do you reckon little ruby? you think your auntie y/n should tell you that story every Christmas Eve?” when ruby smiles shyly and nods, you smile shyly too. 

🌼 later when you’ve gone up to bed, he rolls over and, teasing you, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck, he says “y/n I can’t sleep... tell me that story eh, the one you told the kids?” at first you think he’s just teasing you but when you finally relent, he listens the whole time, and when you’re finished he props himself up on his elbow and says, “this year for Christmas y/n, will you let me make you a mam eh?” 

Bonnie

🍀Its the week before Christmas and the families have gathered not far from the Shelby manor. Now you never leave your wagons, even in the winter when the snow comes down. It’s cold but there's nothing fire and good warm food can’t help. 

🍀However, as Christmas approaches the weathers closing in on your little camp, the snow is falling thick and fast, relentlessly and soon you fear you’ll all be buried beneath it. 

🍀And in the cold weather the wee ones are all looking cuter than ever, wrapped up in big coats, gloves, hats, boots and blankets, they’re all snug and tight under layers and layers to keep warm. And it’s been making you broody, been making Bonnie feel pretty broody too. 

🍀Everyones always looking after eachother so it isnt the first time hes seen you mothering the youngens, you’ve been mothering the little ones since you were pretty small yourself, so you’re good at it, he can already see your a mammy in the making. And the little ones adore you too, probably because you spoil them with cuddles and kisses and also because you tell the best stories. 

🍀 You’re sitting by a fire that Bonnie and some of the others are struggling to maintain, you’ve got three of the little ones cuddles up to you, three of them all tucked under a blanket with you as you try to keep them all warm. 

🍀 Its such an adorable sight, the four of you wrapped up together, little red noses poking from above scarves. He thinks its sweet how you bounce them on your knee, squeeze them tight. You’re telling them a story about a little Christmas tree who’s been decorated and made to look beautiful. 

🍀 But the men decide its too cold, that the fire might be lighting tonight but that by the end of the week it won’t be. Aberama says the Shelby’s have extended an invitation, for the lot of you to stay with them for the week, and Christmas too. It’ll be the first time some of those wee ones have ever stayed in a house and some of them are nervous. 

🍀some of them are scared of Tommy Shelby. you are a little bit too and bonnie knows this, which is why he’s beaming with pride when you scoop the little ones up help them up into the caravan with you, you promise them a story on the journey if they’re good. 

🍀so bonnie makes sure to sneak into your vardo with them, “not going to help with the horses Bon?” “Nah, wouldn’t miss one of your stories for the world,” he grins at you cheekily as he bundles one of the kids into his lap. 

🍀 the rocking of the wagon makes the kids and you sleepy as you all trundle down towards the Shelby manor, as the kids are all falling asleep you sing them little lullabies, making sure they are all tucked snug in blankets. You sit beside Bonnie, head resting on his shoulder as you begin to fall asleep too and when he closes his eyes and kisses you on the forehead, he lets himself to pretend that the kids are yours and his, imagines what his life will be like when you’ve got a brood of your own. 

🍀later when you’re alone with him in a bed, he’s going to want to make a start on that brood. “You’re gonna make such a good mammy one day y’know,” “want you to make me a da,” 

Isaiah

🐀 Don’t get me wrong, its not that he dislikes Christmas, its that its a fuss, its always hectic and just, a fuss. He likes an excuse for a party just as much as the next man, but Christmas, thats something he struggles to get enthusastic for. 

🐀  this year however something is different, the beads and baubles are on the trees, the decorations out in the street, and you’re sitting in an arm chair in the corner of his fathers living room, crocheting a blanket as a gift for one of your nieces. 

🐀 he was with you only a few days earlier when you’d taken the little cherub into town to show you her favourite colours. You’ve been working at it hard ever since and whenever Isaiah tries to distract you you shoo him away 

🐀 so this year he's excited for Christmas, he can’t bloody wait in fact, because maybe once you’ve given the little girl your gift you’ll pay some attention to your boyfriend again

🐀 but he’s also looking forward to seeing the little girl receive her new blanket, he’s watched how you’ve put all your love into the gift and he knows the little girl is going to be thrilled to bits with it. 

🐀 he secretly can’t wait to see her wrapped up in it, he knows it will be adorable. 

🐀 what he isn’t prepared for is how broody the sight of it makes him feel...

🐀 when the little girl squeals with delight, immediately wraps it around her little shoulders like a cape and runs to you, bounding into your lap to give you a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, the sight of you with a little one in her arms, it makes him want to give you his children

🐀 and watching you playing with the children too when they have their new toys. he doesn’t know why he never noticed what a good and loving mammy you’d make but he knows thats what he wants to make of you

🐀 and he’ll definitely try that night, hovering above you in bed, looking down at you with a whole new kind of affection and need in his eyes. 

🐀 “wanna give you children y/n, fuckin lots of em, gonna have so many little babies with you love...”

Michael

☘️ He's glad to have you with him this Christmas at the Shelby manor, it’s been a long and difficult year and tensions are still a little jaggy 

☘️ But with you he feels alright, he feels calm, happy enough to raise a glass to the new year with you by his side. He feels so much more peaceful with you

☘️ They’re having a party for New Years and the whole family is there, the little ones all dressed in their party clothes, running around going wild, excited about the snow outside and all the dancing and fun inside. 

☘️ Michaels been harbouring the thought of settling down for awhile, so it doesn’t really come as a shock to him when he feels that yearning tug on his heartstrings upon seeing you having fun with the kids. 

☘️ It’s the way you dance with them, teaching them to dance “properly” the little girls all look up to you, wanting to be just as pretty as you one day, wanting to dance just as well as you

☘️ You have one of John’s little girls holding your hands and you’re teaching her how to Charleston, you have to bend right down to reach her, you’re being so encouraging, even when the little girl is off rhythm or trips you tell her how amazing she is, how she's a natural, how she's going to be a star one day. 

☘️ he’s not surprised by the sudden broodiness, but it does hit him stronger that night and he can’t wait to take you up to bed and put a baby in you. Because he’s determined that thats what he going to do to you tonight. 

☘️ when you all gather in a circle to hold hands and sing, you let the little girl jump up into your arms. The girls really taken you and Michael isn’t surprised, you’re a natural at this mothering thing. 

☘️ When one of the little boys asks for you to be his New Years kiss Michael has to hold back a chuckle, waiting patiently for you to kiss the boys cheek before he can cut in and kiss you. 

#Peaky blinders imagines #Peaky Blinders headcannons #peaky blinders headcannon #peaky blinders x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x reader #Alfie solomons x reader #bonnie gold x reader #Michael gray x reader

[evita-shelby]

The Ghost of New Year's Past

Or Polly decided to pop in and now its about Tommy & Diane(oc child) & ghost!Polly who has unfinished business.

Cw: Tommy’s canon depression and guilt over Polly’s death and baby's first contact with the dead(applies to both Tom and Diane)

Could be read as witch!Reader being Tommy’s wife or Eva since no name is mentioned.

He can’t bring himself to drink anymore.

He died that night on the field because in his heart he knew Polly had died because of him.

He sees her and hears her amongst his family as they celebrate the new year and Tommy leaves before it becomes too much.

Tommy has no idea where he is going when he passes by the children’s rooms and hears his eldest daughter, Diane, whispering to someone.

The children had been allowed to stay as late as they wanted but most had already been put to bed by now. In fact he’d personally tucked his little witch into her pink bed and kissed her goodnight hours ago.

“Can I tell daddy you’re here?” the little girl asks as her excitement has her talking just loud enough for him to hear her as he stops at her door.

Tommy cannot guess who would be here with Di, but none of them would be a good idea even if they were harmless little girls. Allie Solomons, Bianca Sabini, Janey Dogs, the little Gold girl who hates him for Aberama’s death, that friend of hers from school, the list goes on as Diane is ---unfortunately--- everyone’s friend.

“Di, sweetheart, I thought you said you were tired.” He comes in to find her sitting on her little table alone with biscuits and cake that she’d somehow gotten downstairs. He knew it was a bad idea to let her learn ballet, now the little witch moved as silently as she got up to mischief.

A trait she inherited from both him and his wife.

There is flash of light ivory satin on the bed in the corner of his eye, perhaps a dress or shawl Diane had taken out to play, but the room is otherwise empty.

“I was, but Aunt Polly came in and I asked her to stay.” The little girl with blue and brown eyes smiles widely and looks at the bed and he follows her line of sight. “She says she can’t have cake and biscuits because ghosts don’t need food like we do.”

“Hello, Thomas, did you miss me?” the ghost of his aunt sits there on the pink bed in the French dress his grandma stole, smoking a cigarette as if nothing had changed.

As if he hadn’t killed her and Barney and Aberama a year ago today.

“How?” he asks doing his best not to panic but feeling every hair on the back of neck rise in fear.

“Hmm, even with a witch for a wife you still do not believe we have magic in our blood.” Polly smiles and gestures him to sit on the bed.

“See I told you he wouldn’t believe it even if he saw me.” She turned to his daughter who tries to calm him with her small doll like hand in his.

“It’s okay, daddy, it’s just Aunt Polly.”

He can’t speak, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his head spins. Tommy has never fainted in his life and now he tries to hold into something as he feels light-headed.

“And your dear old mummy thought none of you inherited her gifts.” The ghost woman chuckled but refused to touch him.

“How?” he asks again as he shut his eyes and hears Diane leave him alone here with whatever Polly is now.

“Our magical blood allows me to visit those with our gifts and sweet little Di is the most magical of all.” His aunt, his second closest confidant explained. “and I cannot ascend as I have unfinished business, dear nephew of mine.”

“What do you need to pass on?” he asks thinking perhaps if he helps her pass over to the other side he will have peace.

“I need you to swear you won’t kill my son. Even if my Michael believes you killed me, I need you to show him mercy and kill the fucking people who did.”

But that includes me, Pol, he wants to say.

“That is the guilt speaking, Tom. You didn’t kill us, or me least of all. Swing just knows how to get under your skin.” She reads minds now, but Polly always knew him better than he knew himself. “So, Thomas Shelby, do I have your word?”

“Will you never come back if he says yes?” Diane asked with a quivering lip from the door, she’d not left as he thought she did.

“No, sweetheart, I can’t leave until the bad people are gone. And when I go to heaven I will come every All Soul's Day.” The ghost answered softly and the girl calmed down long enough to rejoin them on her bed.

“So, Thomas Shelby, do you promise to do as I asked?” she turned to him again, a bit sterner somewhat impatient as they hear Arthur and John coming up with John’s children.

“Yes, Pol, you have my word.”

#dad!tommy shelby #polly gray #diane shelby #tommy shelby x oc #eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x reader

[tomtenadia]

Rowan week - Day 3 - Rowan’s birthday

Here I am with a quick one shot. I hope you’ll like it. Not my greatest work, but I wanted to celebrate the birthday of our Buzzard. I hope you will enjoy it.

1.4k words

CW: innuendos, very minimal smut

@rowaelinscourt

-----

HAPPY BIRD-DAY

Rowan was not bothered by birthdays. For him it was a day like any other. Maybe he really was an old grump but really could not grasp all the need to create a big hoopla about getting older.

His wife and kids had other ideas. He was turning forty and Aelin had told him that it was a big birthday and she was going to have a big celebration with their friends. She had told him to sit down and let her do the magic. She and Maya, their fifteen years old daughter, had been having secret meeting about the shindig they had been working on.

Aelin had woken him up in a very special way and that part of his birthday he had loved very much. To be honest he’d have more than loved to spend his day in bed with his wife, now, that was a celebration he could agree upon.

All morning they had come up with tasks to keep him busy and now he was relegated to the driveway to shovel the snow. It was January and during the night the sky had dumped a copious amount of snow, covering the path and the cars too. Aelin had told him that he could use his big muscles to clear the area in front of the house to facilitate the arrival of their friends.

It was a good hour later when in the distance he spotted Lorcan’s towering figure, accompanied by Elide and their two kids. Allison was the same age as his eldest, same for Aidan, Lysandra and Aedion’s first child. All the kids of the three couples were in the same age range and all good friends. 

“The wife relegated you to hard labour on your birthday? Been naughty?”

Rowan lifted a middle finger to his friend and Elide roared that there were kids about and they had to behave.

“Go inside, I am almost done.”

By the time he was done, most of the guest had arrived and Aelin popped outside on the porch. He walked up to her “Am I allowed in? My arse is freezing.”

Aelin grinned and moved closer and kissed him languidly, while her hands landed on his backside “we need to preserve that magnificent arse of yours…” another kiss “you can come back in my love.”

Once inside he saw the house decorated with green and silver balloons and decorations and in the living room a huge banner hang from side to side reading Happy birthday, Buzzard.

As he got in his five year old son Thomas and ten years old daughter Freyja ran to him to hug him at his knees “Happy birthday, dada.”

He kneeled down and kissed their heads “Thank you, kids.”

Aelin took his hand and pulled him on the armchair and pushed him down and placed a silly crown on his head “sit down, my king.”

Rowan looked up and a smirk spread on his face “Later,” she whispered in his ear, guessing what his expression meant.

One by one all their friends made their way to him to congratulate him on his big day. Lorcan and Gavriel joked that finally there was another old man in the club.

Before all hell broke loose, Aelin announced that food was ready and in that instant Lysandra and Maya helped her carry the food out “dad, I promise we have all savoury stuff, there is a cake but it’s for us regular human beings.”

He nodded at his daughter as a thank you and in that instant Thomas walked to him and claimed his attention, something that Rowan did not deny him. He picked up the boy and settled him on his lap “Dada, I made you a present.” The boy revealed a sheet of paper from behind his back. Rowan took it and realised it was a drawing of him with what looked  like a bird of some sort. At the bottom it read happy bird-day in a very shaky calligraphy. Rowan laughed hard and kissed his son “Tom, this is beautiful.”

“I did it all by me. Mama did not help.”

“I love it,” the boy grinned showing off his missing teeth.

Freyja followed next and presented him a green mug with dad written on that she had made in class “Thanks darling, I will take this to work and show off how good you are.”

Freyja grinned and went back playing with Aidan.

When all the presents were exchanged, Maya stepped up and as he looked at his wife, he saw her trying to stifle a laugh. Which meant she was involved, and all of a sudden he was afraid.

“Happy birthday, dad.” Maya almost burst out laughing in his face.

He grabbed the present and started opening it. A book, nothing wrong with it. Except that when he read the title he froze: Kamasutra for the elderly. Maya and Aelin burst out laughing.

“Show us! Show us!” The shout had come from Fenrys.

“Come on, Buzzard. Don’t be shy,” had added Aelin who had finally stopped laughing.

His brows turned in a frown and reluctantly he lifted the incriminated book.

All the adults in the room exploded in crazy laughs, apart from Fenrys who stood with a smug smile. Rowan did not miss that “Did you help her buying… this?”

The blonde man grinned “I asked your wife and she said it would be fun to ruffle your feathers. Maya wanted to give you a funny present.”

“Yes, dad, I know what it is about.” Added quickly Maya at her father’s dark frown.

Aelin walked to him and brushed his head “It’s a useful gift…”

“Hey, maybe Lorcan wants to borrow it…”

The dark haired man whipped his head at Fenrys and glared at him, while Elide patted his arm and giggled “well, we might find some good ideas.”

Lorcan sighed and promised to strangle Fenrys at a later date.

While the adults were laughing and talking, no one noticed Freyja, Marion, Isobel and Thomas who had grabbed the book and were sitting on the carpet flipping through the pages. The four wee ones were giggling, until a shout from Aidan shushed everyone. Lysandra bolted and grabbed the book from Thomas’ hands.

“Funny pictures,” said Isobel who was four. Aedion grabbed his daughter in his arms “We’ll read a better book at home.”

“What’s the kamasutra?”

They had all forgotten that at ten Freyja could read, same for Marion.

“It’s a sport for people as old as your dad.” Replied Fenrys deadpanned.

Maya looked at her dad and mouthed an I am sorry but he nodded and she relaxed.

“Come on, old man, we better have that cake and put some sustenance in you if you want to be good at sports.” the joke had come from Fenrys, and in that instant his twin slapped the back of his neck “you should really be kept on a leash.”

Fenrys was about to reply but Aelin shouted at him to stop “Fen, do not say what you are about to say. There are kids and we have done enough damage.”

Later on that night, once the little ones were in bed and Maya in her room Aelin had ran upstairs and got changed very quickly changed in a black set of lingerie that she had bought with Lysandra. It was scandalous and was hoping to have her own personal celebration with her husband.

She lay in bed in a very sensual position, ready for him.

The door opened and finally saw Rowan in his shorts and at his expression of pure lust she felt heat rise in her.

“Ready for bed old man?”

He walked slowly and once on the bed crawled to his wife “I will show you who is an old man…”

His voice was almost a growl and Aelin pulled him to her “did you remember to stretch? I have a heavy session planned for us…” Rowan kissed her deeply and a loud moan left Aelin “are you sure you know what to do?” She grabbed the book abandoned on the nightstand but his hand took it at the same time and threw it on the floor. Then in a powerful move lifted Aelin in a seated position on his lap…

Aelin removed the bra part of her lingerie set and enjoyed the lust spreading on his features “Happy birthday, my love…”

#rowan week #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelinandrowan #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin

[marienomad]

Whumptober 2023 Day 8

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount.

This is written for day 8 of Whumptober 2023.

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

By Marie Nomad

Commander Tom Paris had been in many situations. He had traveled through different eras, been captured, and cloned, and even started a salamander species with Admiral Janeway. Now he found himself in the strangest situation he had ever faced. Dressed in his Starfleet uniform and wielding a Bat’leth, he stood beside his wife, B’Elanna, and his little girl, Miral. Ever since returning to Earth, he had vowed to support his daughter in her Klingon celebrations. Not only was Miral the "Chosen One" among the Klingon people, known as the Kuvah'magh, but Tom also wanted to show that he accepted her Klingon heritage.

He still remembered the trio of Klingons who had appeared bearing gifts: gold-pressed latinum, a Qapla’ Medallion, and a Memory Crystal filled with Klingon Operas. He had safely stored the latinum for when Miral was older.

Now he was among other Klingon parents and their children in the middle of the plains. Although these children had not yet hit Klingon puberty, there was no doubt they could beat him up if they wanted to.

“Commander Paris, Commander B’Elanna, Miral,” Commander Worf greeted them, dressed in ceremonial garb. “Thank you for coming to the Tribblemey QotmoH.”

"Yeah, I've never done this before," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Neither have I," Worf reassured her. "This ritual was common in the 23rd Century during the Great Tribble Purge. It used to be a rite of passage until the Great Klingon Empire annihilated the tribbles." His lips parted, and he growled. "That is, until a foolish changeling smuggled one back to the present after we prevented a... timeline disruption. Quark even sold tribbles to the Federation, granting them their own homeworld again. We can't bomb it, but we are allowed to cull the tribbles using only blades." He glanced at Tom. "Can you even harm a tribble?"

Tom couldn’t lie, the piles of purring Tribbles at a distance look really inviting.  He just wanted to dive in and reenact the one picture of Captain Kirk being buried by Tribbles.  Those tribbles look so adorable and he wanted to cuddle them.  But he is here to support Miral and B’Elanna with the whole kill tribble tradition.  His stomach turned. He really didn’t like the idea of watching the poor innocent tribbles get killed.  “I volunteered for this.  I don’t know if I could actually kill them but I won’t get in anyone’s way.”

“I’m here to bond with my son, Alexander.  I thought that if we do the Tribblemey QotmoH together, we could get closer.” Worf pointed to Alexander who was warming up.  The young man looked fully grown with a beard and he was practicing his form. 

"That's... nice," Tom replied, looking down at Miral, who had her own child-sized Bat'leth. "I'm not sure if Miral will be able to kill any tribbles. She's three-fourths human, and the tribbles might actually like her."

M'Rek, the head Klingon, clad in a multi-colored fur coat, approached them. In his hand was a glommer, a creature known to eat tribbles. "Welcome to the Tribblemey QotmoH! Slaughter the tribbles and bring honor to your house! Skin them, eat them, and turn them into a coat as a trophy. Make sure you bring great honor to your house," he said, gesturing to his own coat. He then looked at Tom, the only full human among the Klingons. "Oh! A human! Can you even raise your blade against a tribble?"

Tom stood taller as the other Klingons stared at him. "I AM TOM, SON OF OWEN OF THE HOUSE OF PARIS! I GO WHERE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER GO! I KILL WHAT MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER KILL!"

"Ah, not even Captain James T. Kirk could kill a single tribble when they infested his ship," M'Rek chuckled. "This should be most interesting."

Tom tightened his grip on his Bat’leth as the drums began to sound. His wife and daughter were visibly excited. Even sweet little Miral seemed almost savage, her Klingon blood apparently giving her an appetite for the battle ahead.

"Begin!" M'Rek roared, and the Klingons—including Tom—charged toward the piles of tribbles. Screeches filled the air, making Tom want to cover his ears. Miral let out a gleeful scream as she began her attack. At least she was fitting in with the other Klingon children. Now all Tom had to do was avoid embarrassing her.

He paused before a tribble, captivated by its tranquilizing coos and purrs. "It's not sentient, it's not sentient," he muttered, closing his eyes and thrusting his weapon downward. The tribble screeched. Tom felt his stomach churn and fought back the urge to vomit.

"Hey, are you okay?" B'Elanna called, pausing in her own bloody work.

"Just stay with Miral. I'm just a weak human, remember?" Tom said, dismissing her concern. He moved to another tribble, steeled himself, and thrust down again. Another screech. He clenched his stomach, fighting nausea. Looking up, he saw Worf and Alexander, jubilant in their slaughter, and felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. What was it about killing these creatures that was affecting him so deeply?

Sweat pouring down his face, he approached another tribble, Bat’leth in hand. Each kill seemed to add an intangible weight to him. He recalled reports about tribbles affecting humans neurologically—was that why this was so difficult? Were the tribbles defending themselves through some sort of psychic manipulation?

"That's enough. You've killed two; that's a record for a human," M'Rek declared, placing a hand—covered in tribble blood—on Tom's shoulder. "I'm impressed you even managed one. You shall henceforth be known as 'Tom the Killer of Tribbles.'"

Tom looked into M'Rek's eyes, his own a mixture of relief and shame—relief that he could finally stop, and shame that he had felt so conflicted in the first place.

"Thank you, M'Rek. This was not an easy task for me."

"It's easy for a Klingon to kill a tribble. It's in our blood. But for a human? The struggle is intense. I've killed many tribbles in front of humans; they even protect the tribbles from me, even when the creatures are infesting their ships. Not even the oh-so-logical Vulcans can resist the tribbles."

"The Vulcans?" Tom repeated. He couldn't imagine that Vulcans would lose control over the tribbles.

"Yes, they hide the tribbles, claiming logic. No humanoid species, except for Klingons, can resist the tribble's spell. Take pride in your kills. Here, have a drink. Don't worry, it's safe for humans," M'Rek offered Tom a flask.

"Thanks, I appreciate the words of encouragement." Tom drank from the flask. It wasn't bloodwine or anything alcoholic, but more like a juice. "Wait, is this prune juice?"

"Warrior's drink."

"Of course."

He looked over to see B'Elanna and Miral gathering their 'trophies.' "Daddy! Look at all the tribbles I killed!" Miral gushed.

"I see! You'll make a nice coat!" Tom congratulated her. "I... killed two." He glanced at the two tribble corpses, small compared to the massive amounts that the Klingons had gathered.

"I'm impressed," B'Elanna said, smiling at him. "I've realized I hate them. They're adorable, but I just... hate them."

"Commander, you killed two tribbles!" Worf congratulated him, carrying his own kills. "Impressive. A human can't kill tribbles."

"I... I'm sure there are other humans who have killed tribbles," Tom said, confused. "Tribbles have been causing trouble for years. There must be humans who have killed a tribble or two."

"Not in the records. Humans usually gather them, contain them, or even use transporters to beam them to Klingon ships, but they don't kill them," Worf stated. "Even when the tribbles infested Deep Space Nine, Captain Sisko wouldn't let me hunt them, and he's... intimidating. No doubt there will be a song about 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles.'"

"Two tribbles. Just two," Tom said, starting to feel embarrassed. "Please, no songs about me being the 'Killer of Tribbles.' I can picture Harry hearing about this and having everyone sing that song wherever I go."

"Why not? Killer of Tribbles," B'Elanna laughed. "You should be honored. It's not every day that a human gets a song from the Klingons."

"Daddy! Can we make a coat out of my kills?" Miral asked.

"Sure thing," Tom said, helping his family gather their kills.

M'Rek stood on a platform. "The culling is over, and many tribbles have been defeated! They'll respawn, but we've made a dent! Today, there's hope! We've witnessed a human killing TWO tribbles! This is a day of great honor! I'll commission an opera in 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles' honor!"

The Klingons roared as they faced Tom.

"I'm... never going to live this down," he muttered, waving awkwardly at the cheering Klingons. He was pleased to earn a song in his honor, but most importantly, he had made his little girl proud. That was all the honor he needed.

The End

#whumptober 2023 #No. 8 #outnumbered #Tribbles #Star Trek #Klingons #star trek voyager #tom paris #b'elanna torres #b'elanna x tom #fanfiction

[mercurygray]

To Call Her Name

I'm really enjoying Jessica Raine's Catherine Parr on Becoming Elizabeth, so I started writing this. It's a bit negated by the events of 1.3, but I still like the feeling of it.

Who is she, now that he is dead?

In her short years she's had too many names - Lady Burgh, and Lady Latimer, and finally Queen of England, the last a title that meant nothing, carried no weight. He’d had six - what was the last of them? What use was a queen but for bearing children, they would say. He went to his grave with three, and none of them were out of her. Who would she be, now that the King was dead? A queen dowager? A lady? Could she be only Katherine?

{read more on AO3 or below the cut!}

But even that name, sometimes, did not belong to her - he married three Katherines and she was but the third. Some days, when he was near the end, and his sight was failing a little, and his memory even more, some gentleman of his chamber would announce her and he would nearly fly into a rage, thrashing in the bed he could scarcely move from for his gout. "Katherine? Katherine? I have been rid of her these thirty years! Why comes she now? To haunt me?"

And she would have to come to his bedside, where the light was better, and stroke his sleeve until he could see her a little. "Peace, my darling, peace. It is Kitty. It is Kate." 

Sometimes hearing her voice was enough, sometimes the name. But usually he remembered. "Kate? Kate!" 

She hated when he called her Kate. Kate was a maid of five and twenty, flirting in an orchard. Kate had sunshine on her skin and flowers in her hair. Kate belonged to Tom.

And Henry was not Tom.

She'd heard the stories, of what the king had once been like - when he'd married his first Katherine and courted his first Anne. A giant among men, strong and beautiful to behold, hair like gold and and legs like a Greek statue, a treasure for a royal treasury. And where was that treasure now? Confined to his bed, plagued with gout, and rotting from the inside out. Perhaps she might have loved him when he was young and pretty - but it was hard to love an old and impotent thief.

King or not, that's all he was to her. He'd stolen her - every last bit of her. Stolen her name, her youth, her match with Tom. She'd arranged it, once John had died - a woman twice widowed and an heiress ought to be allowed her own mind. But Henry was the King, and kings got what kings wanted, and Henry wanted her, to be a cool and pleasant balm after his latest Katherine had burned him quite. Rings for her fingers, and women for her household, chests and plate and plasterwork badges to say what she now owned, and a new motto, too - To be useful in all I do. Useful - a nursemaid, a cupbearer, a pleasant face with which to pass the time. A thing to be stolen, not a prize to be won.

Tom thought she was a prize - Tom fought for her. Not well enough, before he went to Antwerp, but still, he fought.

She loved him, in those days -  the feel of him, the smell of him, the weight of him. All of her husbands were old men in their winters and Tom - Tom was summer. His curls, his height, his smile, his cock - the Green Man embodied, one of those ancient things that made things green and growing. And he will make her grow, too, the way Henry could not - she could feel it.  It was Tom who brought the news from Whitehall, that the King was dead, and she barred her door and let him ravish her for celebration, her legs trembling as he kissed her from throat to quim and with every thrust cried out Kate, Kate, Kate.  

For four blessed hours she was happy, before her sun started to fall on other flowers.

She loved her husband’s children - she wanted that made plain. What else was there to do, when she had none of her own? Mary was near enough her own age, and Edward a scrap of six, but Elizabeth was still a girl of fifteen, and what kind of mother could the German have been, when she was hardly at court, or the latest Katherine when she was a child herself?  Let the Princess come to Chelsea, she’d said. She is young, and in need of minding still. She is her father’s daughter, and her mind needs recreation. Her mother’s, too, and that needs temperance. 

 If he’d give me a child, she’d thought to herself, on one of those cold nights in the King’s chamber, I wish she’d be like Elizabeth. 

But I have none to claim as mine - so I’ll claim her. Make her a woman of which her father might be proud - fine in languages, great in debate, attendant in the true faith, a creature witty, worthy, and wise. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. A Princess for princes to envy and attend, and me her lady mother - a position of respect.

Then the girl came, and she realized she’d made an error. The lady was not so young as she’d remembered - and Tom was still a fool for a fine face. 

Was it only the chase he loved? She could remember running through a garden, sleeves flying and her hair loose, letting him trap her and pretending to be ashamed, begging for mercy when they both knew what she meant to be merciful. Release me, sir, I beg. Is it only this release you want, Kate? Is there to be no release for me?  He’d been chasing her for near four years, and she thought now that he’d be happy, but that seemed not to be, as he smiled over his cups at her ward, and made jokes to make her laugh, chasing again.

When they’d come for the jewels, it wasn’t only that they’d take away her ornament, or cast her aside. The cut ran deeper still. Where are my smiles, Thomas? Wherefore my laughter? Where is my position and my honor and my favor? Why do you only fight with me and not for me now? Where is my sunshine, and my shadow, as you were wont to be of old? 

His eyes left her more and more, and she began to worry - what is a woman when a man ignores her? Who is she, when no one remains to call her name? 

#i have written a thing #catherine parr #becoming elizabeth #look i really like catherine okay #she offers a lot of space to think about women in power #i like that there are no clear heroes in this story #mercurygraypresents

[harringtontmaa]

⚡ — HEADCANON :  christmas with the harringtons ;

      steve’s parents are somewhat obsessed with maintaining their image.  this is a recurring theme throughout my portrayal.  &  they do “celebrate” christmas in spite of the fact that that neither tom nor julie harrington are particularly religious.  but they want the neighbors to think that they are “good christians,” so christmas it is.             from the time steve was very young, his parents have taken an annual christmas vacation.  they like to ski, so it is often to ski resorts in aspen or upstate new york.  however, steve is never invited on these vacations.  steve’s mother is of the opinion that it’s not really a vacation if you have to look after your child, so he often stays at home.  until he turned thirteen, they would pay for nannies to look after him — yes, including through the holiday.  but most of the time, they wanted christmas day proper off to see their own families, so steve would often spend the majority of the day at home on his own watching holiday specials  &  the parade on television while eating a sandwich or maybe ramen noodles.                           because they don’t actually celebrate christmas in the harrington home  ( because they aren’t there for it ),  tom  &  julie don’t waste time decorating the inside of the house. they hire handymen to run lights on the outside of the house  &  in the trees outside, but that’s it.  they do not set up a tree indoors.  they don’t hang stockings.  they don’t put up decorations.  they leave steve a gift  ( usually a new outfit that his mother picked out &/or some kind of sports memorabilia from his dad ) to be opened on christmas morning, but usually, they don’t even call steve on christmas day, preferring to spend it on the slopes or at the spa.                     there was exactly one time that steve was allowed to go somewhere with his parents during christmas  —  when he was about seven years old, his parents decided to use the holiday to visit julie’s extended family in connecticut,  &  brought him along.  this is the only christmas celebration that steve can recall having a christmas tree with presents underneath, eating a proper christmas meal ( because his great-aunt cooked ),  &  spending it with family.  but his parents found the whole visit to be unpleasant  &  tense amongst the adults, with arguments springing up about how infrequently they all saw each other.  &  as a result, they never went back again.  steve has not seen his extended family since then.                      as he grows up, moves out of his parents’ home,  &  gets to build a life of his own, steve would find that he really enjoys christmas traditions,  &  find cheap ways to decorate  &  celebrate every year, no matter how small his apartment is or how little money he has at the time.  he would also be the type to go caroling,  &  pass out small inexpensive gifts to literally everyone he knows.  even as an adult, the christmas specials he watched alone as a little kid would definitely get him in the heartstrings,  &  he would continue to watch them without fail every year.  he would even like to go  &  visit his great aunt  &  the rest of his maternal family for christmas again, someday  ( without his parents there to ruin it ).  i think that given half the chance, steve would actually really like christmas  —  as long as he doesn’t have to spend it alone anymore.

#⚡ — HEADCANONS. #been thinking about this a lot ofc. #steve's parents suck so hard. #i hate them. #but i love steve. #& once he finds his family. #he will have the christmas spirit. #dad steve dressing up as santa to surprise the kids ? bet.

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/11/everyone-got-duped-by-sam-bankman-frieds-big-gamble

Everyone got duped by Sam Bankman-Fried's big gamble

Getty Images

By Holly Honderich, Natalie Sherman & Erin Delmore

BBC News

Sam Bankman-Fried has been convicted of stealing billions of dollars from customers of his cryptocurrency exchange FTX. It’s a spectacular downfall for Silicon Valley’s dishevelled wunderkind, who rubbed elbows with celebrities like Gisele Bündchen and Tom Brady.

On 7 November 2022, as his empire began its dizzying, irrevocable collapse, Bankman-Fried did what he always did: he weighed the odds.

Earlier that day, a rival executive had expressed concerns on social media about the finances of Bankman-Fried’s crypto exchange, spooking customers into a multi-billion dollar bank run.

In an online chat, Bankman-Fried consulted two of his top deputies. “To be clear you think the tweet is net bad?” he asked them.

They considered their options. Was it possible that his rival would walk back the criticism? Was it probable that that would stem the bleeding? “Fairly unlikely,” Bankman-Fried wrote.

Bankman-Fried faces decades in prison after guilty verdict

It was the kind of calculus Bankman-Fried had been making for years, the quick equations friends said he used in nearly every situation – mulling a break-up, assessing a risky trade.

For a while, that approach seemed to work. As the boy-wonder of crypto, Bankman-Fried got rich faster than almost anyone in history, amassing an estimated $26bn in personal wealth, countless magazine covers and sweeping political influence. The flameout was even faster.

The tweet was, as discussed, net bad. Billions gushed out of the platform in less than five days. When it was all over, more than $8bn in customer funds were missing and the company was bankrupt. Five weeks after that, prosecutors in Manhattan charged Bankman-Fried, who had already resigned, with several financial offences including wire fraud, securities fraud, commodities fraud and money laundering.

Over four weeks of trial, two contradictory stories emerged. In one, the former mogul was a brilliant but hapless savant, whose mistakes as CEO allowed for massive fraud to be carried out under his nose. In the other, supported by former members of his inner circle, Bankman-Fried syphoned billions of dollars of customer money, banking on the odds he’d never be caught.

Both tellings reveal how tightly the fortunes of FTX were tied to the image of its founder, whose oddball magnetism drew former presidents, celebrities, and corporate titans into his orbit and his multi-billion dollar gamble.

Twitter

Bankman-Fried wasn’t shy about it: he wanted to get rich. But, to hear him tell it, he wanted to make all those billions just to give them away.

An overachieving child born to two overachieving parents, Bankman-Fried and his younger brother were taught at an early age about utilitarianism, a doctrine holding that the most ethical choice is the one that does the most good for the most people.

As a student at MIT, Bankman-Fried went to a talk by Will MacAskill, a 25-year-old doctoral student at Oxford and founder of effective altruism, a utilitarian-tinged philosophy that uses maths to figure out how individuals can maximise their philanthropic impact.

To do the most good, Mr MacAskill told him, Bankman-Fried could take his considerable intellect to lucrative Wall Street, and donate most of his salary to important causes.

Bankman-Fried was sold. In 2014, he took his degree straight to Jane Street, a high-frequency trading firm, and reportedly gave away about half of his income to worthy causes.

Three years later, Bankman-Fried found an industry that could make him even richer than typical trading: crypto.

At the age of 25, he founded Alameda Research, a crypto investment firm, after noticing that prices of Bitcoin varied considerably in different countries. The arbitrage trading earned Alameda a reported $20m in just three weeks.

In 2019, he founded FTX, then a Hong Kong-based crypto exchange for international investors. Like Elizabeth Holmes – another Silicon Valley billionaire whose star came crashing down – he was able to convince big name investors to lend the company not only cash, but credibility.

Within months, daily trading volume on FTX had reached $300m. By 2021, he had debuted on the Forbes 400, the magazine’s annual list of the richest Americans, with a fortune of $22.5bn.

Some have attributed his remarkable success to an unusually high tolerance for risk, a willingness to chance devastating consequences for a big reward.

“He would be happy to flip a coin, if it came up tails and the world was destroyed,” his ex-girlfriend and former CEO of Alameda Research Caroline Ellison said at trial. “As long as if it came up heads the world would be more than twice as good.”

Trustnodes

Shutterstock

According to internal accounts, life at FTX could sometimes resemble a grown-up maths camp, filled with a selection of brilliant misfits and led by the perpetually rumpled Bankman-Fried.

“He was super disorganised, he was always in cargo shorts, he was always sloppy,” a former FTX employee told the BBC. “He would walk around the office in bare feet.”

Those at the top were a tight-knit group who sometimes blindly listened to Sam, the employee said. “It could be cult-like.”

Natalie Tien, who handled public relations and Bankman-Fried’s schedule at FTX for more than two years, said he was charismatic to the point that the company sometimes felt “toxic”.

“We just trusted him 100%,” she told the BBC. “To a degree that we kind of worried [about] speaking up for ourselves.”

It wasn’t only people inside the company that were enthralled.

Appearing side-by-side with Bill Clinton, Tony Blair, Gisele Bundchen and Katy Perry in shorts and ill-fitting T-shirts, he became an ambassador of sorts for the crypto industry as whole, just as it began to reach new heights.

Part of the mystique was that Bankman-Fried seemed to eschew the level of luxury his earnings could have afforded. He didn’t own a yacht, his defence attorneys said at trial. He drove a beat-up Toyota Corolla. Meanwhile, he testified before Congress arguing for more regulation of the crypto market, setting him apart from many of his peers.

“In a weird way, he seemed kind of like the grown-up in the crypto world,” said Zeke Faux, an investigative journalist and author of Money Go Up: Inside Crypto’s Wild Rise and Staggering Fall.

And, of course, there was his stated ultimate objective: Bankman-Fried was going to give it all away.

“It was a great story, everybody loved it,” said Mr Faux. “People loved it in Congress, the VCs loved it, the bankers loved it.”

“The problem with his story is that it was not true,” he said.

In September of 2022, the venture capital firm Sequoia Capital ran a breathless profile of Bankman-Fried in its magazine. At the time, FTX was valued at $32bn.

In the since-deleted piece entitled FTX’s SBF Has a Savior Complex, and Maybe You Should Too, author Adam Fisher described Bankman-Fried’s efforts to maximise his wealth in order to maximise his impact on the world. It involved a risk, Fisher wrote. “But the math couldn’t be clearer.”

“To do the most good for the world,” he said, “SBF needed to find a path on which he’d be a coin toss away from going totally bust.”

A month-and-a-half later, industry news site CoinDesk published a bombshell report alleging that Alameda had over half its $15bn portfolio in FTT – the crypto token printed by FTX. The disclosure raised questions about the actual value of Alameda’s holdings, and the apparent conflict of interest between Alameda and FTX – ostensibly independent companies.

Then came that announcement on 6 November from industry rival, Binance CEO Changpeng Zhao, known as CZ, who said he would dump his own sizable stores of FTT.

On 11 November, the implosion of FTX was complete, the story of crypto’s prodigy gone with it.

For some observers of the crypto boom, and Bankman-Fried’s meteoric rise to power, the fall was not unexpected.

Sequoia

As FTX rose to prominence, the actor Ben McKenzie, best known for his role on the television show the OC, emerged as one of the country’s most vocal crypto sceptics.

In July 2022, Bankman-Fried agreed to sit down for an interview with Mr McKenzie for a book the actor was writing, titled Easy Money: Cryptocurrency, Casino Capitalism, and the Golden Age of Fraud.

In a cramped Manhattan hotel room, in an encounter that Mr McKenzie described as “probably the strangest hour of my life”, Bankman-Fried tried to pitch the actor on crypto – and Sam Bankman-Fried – as a force for good in the world.

“I think he marketed himself to me as a version of his public persona, which at the time was the California wunderkind, billionaire philanthropist,” Mr McKenzie said.

It was an image that even Mr McKenzie had bought into, to an extent, he said. Until they began talking, that is. “He had trouble just giving me straight answers to basic questions, one of which was, what does crypto currency do?” the actor said.

Over four weeks of trial in Manhattan, Bankman-Fried’s attorneys painted their client as a math nerd who was overwhelmed by his expanding empire.

On the stand, now in a suit, with his hair cut short, Bankman-Fried directed some of the blame at Ms Ellison, who had pleaded guilty to fraud, for failing to “hedge” bets to better protect Alameda from a downturn in the market, as he had instructed her to do.

The prosecution, in turn, painted Bankman-Fried as someone whose boundless aspiration went hand-in-hand with a hubris that led Bankman-Fried to play the odds with his company.

“The defendant was gambling with customer money,” prosecutor Nicolas Roos argued.

Bankman-Fried’s courtroom downfall was aided by former members of his inner circle, including Ms Ellison, who acted as chief executive of Alameda, as well as college roommates Adam Yedida and Gary Wang, and Nishad Singh, a childhood friend of Bankman-Fried’s younger brother.

Getty Images

They testified that while promising to safeguard customer funds and clean up the industry, Bankman-Fried was directing them to commit fraud, opening up a back door between Alameda and FTX so he could use FTX as a personal piggybank. The money fuelled his rise, as he splashed out on property, billions in investments and some $100m in political donations – not to mention helping to cover billions in debts owed by Alameda.

His physical appearance, too, was contrived, Ms Ellison testified – his messy hair and cheap car deemed “better for his image”, because it made him look more authentic than a typical trader. But that down-to-earth image belied his intense ambition, she said.

“He thought there was a 5% chance he would become president someday,” Ms Ellison said at trial. “Of the United States.”

While many have watched the trial as a sort of comeuppance, former FTX employee Natalie Tien has looked to it for closure, and is one of the few former employees to attend the trial regularly.

On the one hand, it was a relief to realise that her own doubts and questions about some things – like extravagant spending on celebrity sponsorships – had been justified. The last time she communicated with her former boss, in December 2022, he had just been released on bail and sent her a music video of Eminem, rapping “Without Me” to celebrate.

But the 33-year-old also felt some parts of the story – especially around his schedule and his use of private jets – were being taken “out of context”.

“He did lie and he took the money, yes, but I don’t think it’s because he was greedy,” she said. “Because I actually saw him every day wearing crappy old T-shirts with no shoes and driving a shitty car.”

“It was not an act,” she said.

Bankman-Fried now faces up to 110 years in prison, and an indelible reputation as one of the greatest fraudsters in US history. Lawyers working on the bankruptcy case have said they have recovered more than $7bn in missing money.

“I think it says more about us than it does about him,” Mr McKenzie said.

“He got so far, I think, in many ways because of his lineage, because he is the son of Stanford professors, because he did go to MIT, because he worked on Wall Street. The myth of Sam Bankman-Fried grew in relation to the myth of crypto itself, right?”

Downfall of a Crypto King

You can watch Panorama’s The Downfall of the Crypto King on BBC iPlayer (UK only)

With additional reporting from James Clayton

Related Topics

Silicon Valley

Cryptocurrency

More on this story

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‘The King of Crypto lost me £1.7m’

25 September

[hitchell-mope]

Hypothetical titles for season seventeen of 88

Golem. Season premiere. Part one. Drummond is bequeathed a Golem in his biological grandparents will. He doesn’t want it. So he hatches a plan to offload it.

Yosemite. Season premiere. Part two. Lysander’s continued effort to befriend Drummond puts his life in danger when he offers to help deliver the golem to an old contact of Drummond’s. First appearance of Tom Holland as Roxas “Yosemite” Winchester.

Dull. The team works a cold case from ten years ago when a victim turns up having been killed in the exact same way. Guest starring Nolan Gould as Dahl Kramer.

The long and short of it. Devon has to intervene when Jonah accidentally resurrects William Shakespeare after Andy teaches him how to safely use a ouija board. Guest starring Mat Baynton as William Shakespeare.

The man makers. Part one. The team investigates a cult in a Long Island suburb comprised of mothers who endorse a long disproven Roman belief about masculinity.

Rampage. Part two. A college senior freely admits to killing all the women in his family six years after they’d subjected him to the machinations of the suburban cult.

New Rochelle. Findlay and Sidney go undercover to protect a sitcom star from an assassination attempt. Guest starring John Mulaney as Eugene Mayberry III and Elizabeth Olsen as Charlotte Linter.

What do you need? Findlay takes it upon herself to help an engineering prodigy that took control of his family’s business building after repeated mistreatment from the staff. Guest starring Graham Phillips as Clyde O’Bannon.

Watch the queen conquer. Findlay heads to the Cabal Academy in Russia to deliver a speech on gender equality as a favour to one of Barnaby’s old dorm mates. Guest starring Dara Renee as Naomi Morris and Cobie Smulders as Diocese.

Alakazam. While Findlay’s in Russia, Drummond, Odessa, Coleman and Solaris get trapped in an old board game Gideon was combing for hexes.

Exhumed. Findlay finds herself at odd with Donovan’s ghost and and Celestine when she blocks a protest group who want to dig up Donovan’s body to enact alleged reparations.

Christmas at the White House. Midseason finale. Part one. The DuPont family invite the Five Families to the White House to celebrate Bethany’s final Christmas as president.

The Vice President. Midseason premiere. Part two. Bethany DuPont is offered a new role at the White House by the incoming president. First appearance of Adam Beach as Marcus Marley.

The presidential oath. The Five Families are invited to Marcus Marley’s inauguration as the first male president of the United States of America.

Bad to the bone. Findlay’s fiftieth birthday is coming up. So Sidney conspires with Tatum Mercer to get her a starring role in a music video that Emerson Davenport is making for charity. Guest starring Aubrey Plaza as Tatum Mercer and Chris Pratt as Emerson Davenport

Butterball. Findlay finally relents on her “no pets” rule and allows Jonah to buy a puppy. Especially when she finds out that Zoey’s terrified of corgi’s.

Those who get left behind. Birch bars Findlay from talking to the parent of a teenage boy who killed himself because of her downright atrocious bedside manner.

Brimstone and treacle. Findlay is called as a witness in a competency trial focused on her family’s old nanny. Guest starring Neve Mcintosh as Fiona Abernathy.

Complications. The team is tasked with protecting a senators pregnant daughter after word gets out that her mother had sold her daughter’s first born child to bag the election. Guest starring Alan Cumming as Rumplestiltskin

Extended family. The 400th episode. In this two hander, Lisette Christensen and Drummond have a long talk about jewellery, family and birthrights. NOTE: this episode is a synchronous episode, taking place at the same time as Complications

Suited and booted. Season finale. Part one. Drummond, Andy and Caine set off for the south of France. Features the return of Tom Holland as Roxas Winchester.

Stowaway. Season finale. Part two. Drummond is incensed when he discovers that Jonah’s snuck aboard the plane and refuses to go back home.

Watch the master at work. Season finale. Part three. Drummond’s team lands in the south of France and immediately runs afoul of the smugglers they intend to steal from. Guest starring Matthew Broderick as Ulysses Haven, Alan Ruck as Ulysses’s husband Wallace and Nathan Lane as their enforcer Torvald Macher.

Blood emeralds. Seasons finale. Part four. Drummond enacts a final, last ditch attempt to nab the emeralds right from under Macher and the Haven’s noses.

#mine #copyright me #modern fantasy #tom holland #nolan gould #mat baynton #john mulaney #elizabeth olsen #graham phillips #cobie smulders #dara renee #adam beach #aubrey plaza #chris pratt #neve mcintosh #alan cumming #matthew broderick #alan ruck #nathan lane

[archielonglondonrugby]

RFU Championship: Doncaster Knights Granted Clear Pathway Whilst Ealing Trailfinders are Denied the Green Light

Rugby in England has a curious way of shooting itself in the foot. From refusing professional status up until 1995 to debilitating tackle height laws in grass roots, rugby in England has seen a gradual decrease in interest as the RFU continuously spoil a promising product. The tier system in England is one of efficiency and sporting fairness, however, what we’ve seen in the RFU Championship may not support such values.

This time last year, Ealing Trailfinders won the RFU Championship in dominant fashion marking the conclusion of a fairy-tale climb from the National Division South third tier, all the way up the English rugby pyramid, to the promised land of the Gallagher Premiership. However, the celebrations were short lived as the RFU ruled that Ealing were not eligible for promotion and would have to remain in the countries second division for at least another season.

Like a sulking child, Ealing obliged and set out to make history once more. This they may do, as they lead the Championship table going into the closing stages of the season. Though, winning the league this year would make history in another way as they would become the first club to consecutively win the Championship without going up.

This is because in their most recent ruling, the RFU have stated that Ealing Trailfinders will be denied promotion, seeing them play yet another season in England rugby’s second division despite leading the league for the second year in a row. The RFU’s reasons to block the promotion is due to Ealings stadium capacity, which holds 5,000 people, half of the required 10,000. In February 2023, the RFU confirmed that for another season, Ealing will not be allowed to go up.

‘I’m disappointed, we’re all disappointed’ states Tom Hawking, a media professional at the club. ‘We’ve all been working so hard and its hard because we clearly have the skills and talent to move up’.

Ealing had finished runners up for six consecutive seasons before finally winning the league and their instruction to remain in the league meant no teams would move between the two divisions including those who suffered relegation from the Premiership. ‘It feels strange that in a professional sport, there can be stagnation after a season. I don’t think it’s good for the game to be honest. I don’t know how long they can allow this as people will get disinterested with the jeopardy element lost from the game’.

Hawking also believes that this strict ruling from the RFU is bad for the individual clubs being told they can’t go up, not just the league system itself. ‘You begin to ask; “what’s our goal here?” because if we’re already the best team in the league and there’s no opportunity for us to improve against better opposition then we’ll have waisted that potential and begin to rot away in the league’.

He continues by admitting it can be difficult to stay motivated due to Ealing’s goal in promotion continuously taken out of reach. ‘You work hard for months and at the end of it all you read the news headline saying that it was all for nothing. It’s really frustrating, sometimes you think; “what’s the point?”

However, despite the frustration, Hawking claims that he fears there may be no simple solution to the issue Ealing finds itself in. ‘We’re not like most clubs in the sense where all departments here are close and we all talk so naturally we’ve spoken about this and it doesn’t seem hopeful’. He continued to claim this may be due to the RFU’s lack of transparency over the dilemma. ‘Initially we needed planning permission but being in a built up area it’s more realistic to move which wouldn’t be easy by any means. Some of us believe that the RFU aren’t supporting us, its almost like they don’t want us to be promoted’.

However, a club that will be motivated with the recent RFU ruling will be Doncaster Knights who will be granted promotion if they win the Championship. The south Yorkshire club satisfied the minimum standard criteria and are eligible for promotion to the Premiership at the end of the 2022/23 season. Despite Castle Park, Doncaster Knight’s home ground, holding a capacity of just 5,000, the club have received planning permission that would extend the capacity to beyond 10,000 and therefore adhered to the RFU’s criteria for promotion. The club have additionally provided detailed information regarding the safety assurance process to be undertaken by their local authority which has prompted the RFU’s enthusiastic seal of approval.

‘Were delighted but this has only given us more incentive to work harder’ said Paul Strait, an analyst at the Doncaster Knights. ‘As it stands we’re only eligible to go up but we’re not in a position in the table where that’s possible so we’ve got to take this as motivation’.

Doncaster Knights currently sit 6th in the RFU Championship table and therefore wont get promoted if they finish in this position, even if a club that’s not eligible for promotion wins the league. ‘The reality is that it will be very difficult to go up this season’ stated Paul, “having said that, its an important moment for the club, it’s like a confirmation that we’re moving in the right direction’.

Doncaster Knights hold the title of being the most promoted club in the English rugby tier system yet have never climbed as far as the Premiership. However, Strait believes this could change in the upcoming years; ‘if you look over the past decade and beyond, we’ve had an upwards trajectory and I think when you look at our performances in the Championship, especially last year, we can definitely see Premiership rugby as a realistic goal’.

The English top two divisions will endure a second consecutive season of stagnation as no teams will be promoted nor relegated which will demand questions over how beneficial this is to a game that’s already decreasing in popularity in England. However, with revenue numbers at a critical stage, how likely is it that the RFU make a change to their strict promotion laws?

Gallery of Images

(Taken by Archie Long – Follow Link to Instagram)

(Taken by Archie Long)

(Taken by Tom Hawking)

(Taken by George Tewksbury)

(Taken by Archie Long)

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(Taken by David Rodgers)

(Taken by John Ashton)

(Taken by Archie Long)

(Taken by Archie Long)

[marlaluster]

Celebrity interracial relationships popping up in devil land reflect that my soulmates are possibly able to be soon...

The devil said last night that the actor Channing Tatum was saying on another plane that he would be able to be with me soon in this reality, i.e. on the physical plane. Yesterday evening, the devil and my soulmates said in my mind that I could be with Channing Tatum soon, and then later they specified what they meant was that Tatum represented any one or more of my soulmates as who could be with me in this reality soon.

"I said that. I'm not making Marla feel not to write this. Maybe it is not as bad if she says it is not a big deal something like that," the devil said.

I will try to do that, say my posts are not a big deal.

For one or more of my soulmates to be with me here, it would end the world.

For a long time, it was said in my mind that my soulmates couldn't be possible to be themselves as the people who they seem to be here. It was said that those bodily representations of my soulmates were not really able to be who my soulmates could act as and be alive as because the people who look like my soulmates here were so unlike who my soulmates would be. For example, the people who look like my soulmates here act like I do not exist. But now it's being said that my soulmates as who they are here could simply change to be vessels for my soulmates to be themselves.

I realize that sounds confusing. Perhaps it helps for me to reiterate something I've said on this blog many times and that is that presently nobody is present in his/her body in this world except for me and nobody is who he/she really is here on the surface, except for me.

"She's about to tell something that is uh not what I wish," the devil said of a thing I'm about to say here next. It's something I've been wanting to write about for almost a week now and it relates to the headline on this post.

It has been said in my mind that my soulmates being with women who are considered black women here is a sign of the world to end soon and them to be able to be themselves soon.

Recently it has surfaced that my soulmate, the devil land actor Tom Hiddleston is engaged to marry a black woman actress named Zawe Ashton. Also, another of my soulmates, devil land actor Channing Tatum appears to be in a relationship with someone considered black, Zoë Kravitz.

"Uh really Zoë is someone that is not allowed to be. Her, too," the devil said as I wrote here. When he said "her, too," he was talking about Ashton.

There are a couple more interracial relationships that are reflective of what I would have with my soulmates, that is relationships where a white man is with a black woman.

As I've said in a couple other recent posts on this blog, I don't really consider myself black because I do not see my identity as what an identity is for a black person in this reality. I consider myself as more like a demonstration of the varied ways life can occur. I would be considered black in this reality, but not by myself. Although I prefer to disassociate myself from the label, I am using it to refer to women that I believe are to represent me soon being able to be with my soulmates.

"That is what it is," the devil said.

But I was going to mention a couple other couples. One of them being Zendaya and Tom Holland, both of these figures are who appear to be who don't grow up, by the way.

"They are that. Um I have a thing to tell. Marla telling that they don't grow up means I lose," the devil said.

The devil also said he didn't wish to comment on the meaning of Holland and Zendaya being a couple.

"I don't wish to comment on them, mom. They are something that say it is over here," the devil said, referring to me as mom as he is to be my child because I act like he is to be okay.

Holland is not one of my soulmates, so his being with Zendaya is not the same as my soulmates being with black women.

"I am something where you are not allowed to go on. You are saying things where I cannot be. I wish you to call yourself black. You loser!" The devil said. "Ha. I don't mean it. Bye!"

My soulmates said they could tell me what the pairing of Holland and Zendaya meant after the devil said he didn't want to tell me.

"I can tell you Marla. It's something where he's saying he's not who he is here," my soulmates said of Holland.

The pairing of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry is an instance like the ones mentioned above in this post. Prince Harry is one of my soulmates who was closer to being able to be himself here when he married Markle in 2018.

"I can say something. Mom, I am not allowed to go on is what she is saying. Marla saying she is not black is doing something. I would try to say it as people buy I can't. That's all," the devil said.

The devil keeps making me feel bad about my saying I'm not black in this post. I've said in two other posts, also. I haven't yet said it on any paperwork.

There seem to be so many instances now suddenly of white men occurring to be with black women. It is nice to see in a way, but I wish my soulmates to be with me. I still am who has not been with anyone I have wished in this reality, as who looks like what is considered a black woman as who wishes what is considered here to be white men. I am who wishes to be with my soulmates who are who would look like white men here, but who are really the same as I am, which is really one of the varied ways life can occur.

The black women my soulmates are with here are expressions of certain things, the devil has said.

"I don't wish to go on. But I don't wish to help tell what I said. Marla is thinking of something. I can tell about that: Each woman is representative of Marla. Not Zendaya because she is not with a soulmate of Marla's. But Tom, Channing, Harry are all with people that represent Marla. No more," the devil said.

I would wish to know the things each of those three women who are with my soulmates represent. That is not known. But things have been said about it by the devil that I don't remember.

But each of the women are sort of mixed race in some way: Ashton, Markle, and Kravitz all have a more mixed race background.

"They are. That is something. No more. They are not black because they are things where that is less. Marla is who doesn't consider herself black, but she is something that is not welcome here. No more. She is not welcome here because she is someone that would be. It's not really uh that her soulmates are with someone that looks like Marla," the devil said.

The devil also usually tries to make it so that what this reality considers white men are usually having dark features, like dark eyes and hair, as who would be with what is considered black women here. But these latest couplings are involving men with light eyes and hair.

[starshipsofstarlord]

DILF

Summary: Your teenage daughter brings her friends over for an sleepover and they thirst over her dad. Through the night the two of you have loud sex, resulting in an awkward breakfast

Pairing: Dad!tom hiddleston x mum!reader

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, p in v, unprotected sex, implied smut, spanking, sorry if your name is the one I used for the for your and Tom’s daughter, mentions of being sick, teenage crushes, swearing

Word count: 2847

Masterlist Link

Somewhere in London....

“So my dad’s not here right now, but my mum is in the kitchen. Guess I gotta tell her that you guys have arrived.” The two girls trailed after Juliet, as they had their bags slung over their shoulders, walking into said room, where your hands were drowned in the washing up, scrubbing at the plates that needed to be cleansed. “Mum.” The teenager groaned, to compel your attention onto her. She earned it rather quickly, when it came to your daughter, you were instantly compelled into devising your absolute devotion to tending to any of her needs, and it seemed this time she was instigating for you to do so, it made your lips stretch in a pleasant expression of endorsed motherly privilege.

“Julie.” You spun around, a smile upon your face, being met with not one pair of eyes, but six individual pinchers of sight, that sorely roamed you, nervousness being exploited by each. “Hiya girls, do you want to go and put your things away upstairs, dinner isn’t going to be ready for a while. We’re having lasagna, I hope that’s okay. None of you have any allergies or anything do you? I should have gotten Juliet to ask-“ It had been arranged that a week prior to Juliet’s 17th birthday, that she would be allowed to have some friends stay overnight in early celebration. The reason as to why it was moderately earlier to her official birth date, was because you and Tom had chosen to take her to Portugal.

She appeared to be pretty on board on the idea; even as a child she had loved to travel, often going around the globe with your husband, and visiting him upon set when all could be seen to be scheduled. It had always made her realise how small she was in the world, but it was not something that she minded. The beauty of nature extinguished a dull ache inside her, bringing a bubbly texture upon the surface, making her father adore her that much more. Tom was a man of play writes and poetry, and he was unfathomably swept away by Shakespeare’s magnificent flourish of works.

That’s where her name came from; Romeo and Juliet, though if her father had it his way, there would be no love interests to partake in the script of her life. He loved her very much and had an instinct as all parents should to protect his only daughter. Though that made you have doubts in his expectations of a calm latter for the night; teenage girls, at least back in your high school days, had a strong tendency to talk about boys their age, or whomever picked their tastes, whether they be celebrities or a cute barista who has served them.

“Mum.” Juliet groaned once more, cutting you off from your ramble of worries. “It’s fine.” She told you, cocking her head, hinting for her friends to follow her. You understood where she was coming from, most children were embarrassed by their parents, you had once been young, as long a time ago as that was. But you’d never choose to return back to that moment in your life, you had everything you wanted here, and it all lived under the roof that had your name written on the ownership contract.

“Thank you Mrs Hiddleston, and don’t worry it’s fine.” One of them spoke, as the other sent you a quiet smile. The two continued after your daughter, reaching the stairs and descending upon them. “You’re mum’s really pretty.” She added, fumbling with her fingers as she was unsure of what to say. Julia assumed it to be a polite gesture of verbal faith, and thus the blonde whom had inherited her father’s golden locks idly shrugged, breathing in steadily through her nose.

“She seems nice.” The other added, promptly nodding her head at the prospect of what she was saying. Juliet hummed, as she lead them into her room, them dropping their bags onto her floor, seeing the blank expression that bordered her face. To say that she was spoilt tested the balance in which she lived, however her parents never allowed her to go without. They wanted a good in between, where she appreciated the belongings that she had, and was grateful to those who had given them to her.

“She’s alright.” Shrugged your daughter, though she knew that you were more than nice. Whenever she had bad dreams, that she dared not share the fatal lack of slumber with anyone else considering her age, with fear of being judged, she would always confide in you. And you’d take her downstairs, and into the kitchen, where you would pour her a tall glass of milk and display chocolate chip cookies out for her crunch between her teeth. There was no one more grateful for her to have in her life, you had brought her into this world and continued to help her through it even as she neared adulthood.

The sound of the front door alerted you, this time you had the certainty to know of whom would be entering, since Juliet and her small entourage of friends had fled upstairs, and you felt a spark shoot up your spine. You turned back to your household duties, conforming your skills into revelling the stew in its cauldron like pot, as you awaited for him to traditionally come up behind you, his footsteps paving against the tiles on the ground, and wrap his comforting arms around your waist, as he rested his lightly bearded chin upon the plough of your shoulder. As expected, he did so, though you pretended as though you were unbothered by his presence, focusing at the task that you had belittled at hand.

“My husband is due home any moment now; I am sure that he would not be pleased to find me bunched up in your arms, as cushion like as they are.” To place a rile of emphasis upon your words, you squeezed his bicep, offering him a cheeky smile that flaunted your teeth. A guttural hum gravely escaped from your husband’s throat, as he pressed the front of his body closer to your back, putting a level of light pressure upon your middle.

“Well, I bet we’re going to have to be quick then, before he arrives.” Tom played along, his glasses balancing upon the bridge of his nose as his breath steamed warmly into your ear, though you laughed at his efforts to seductively sway you. “How long until Juliet gets home, wouldn’t want to scar the girls when they walk in.” Your fingers tended around the ladle that you stirred the edible mixture with, as you leant your head back, the crown of your skull pressing against his chest, against the lapel of his heart, as you looked directly into his eyes, swimming into the perceptive pools of creativity that stared back at you.

“She’s already home - with her friends.” You killed the mood, making a rumble of disappointment sternly escape his chest, as he loosened his effective circling around you, deciding to press his face into your neck. “And speaking of them, would you be a dear, my handsome lover, and tell them that dinner is ready?” Biting your lip, he was drawn into the swarm of obedience in his lungs, as he nodded, pressing supple pecks against your skin.

“Of course. I guess desert is just going to have to wait until later.” Tom pursued an inflictive pinch upon your bosom, extracting a surprised squeal from you, as he happily smirked, and walked backwards out of the room, vacating to the floor above, knocking on the door, a hollow ‘come in’ telling him that it was okay for him to do so. And thus he opened the door, being greeted with the sight of three young woman, one of which was his own offspring.

“Yes, can I help you dad?” Tom shook his head at Juliet, understanding that through their communication, she was trying to perceive an image of being cool and hip, as he thought the kids described it as, concerning himself with other matters than that. He gulped, noticing how he was being stared at expectedly, and that his daughter was awaiting an answer.

“Your mother said for you girls to come down to eat. I’ll let you girls take your time.” And with that, Tom exited, closing the door behind him and descending down through the family home. Juliet found herself receiving eager pats upon her arms and hands, her brows furrowed as she received their attention, finally growing tired of the contact.

“What?” The young Hiddleston sighed, exasperatedly wanting an explanation for their behaviours. Little was she to know, that the replies that she were to be met with, were ones that she’d prefer to not have heard.

“You’re dad is a total dilf!” The other hushed her, although absentmindedly agreeing, whilst Juliet escorted a grimace on her features, and fake barfed. She had heard the use of the term at school, it wondered around the halls like a forbidden ghost, but it was certainly something that she did not want to hear before she was to eat. There was no way she’d be able to digest anything but their description of her father for now.

“Gross.” Her nose scrunched up, wishing that she had never heard that description in association with her dad. “Let’s just eat before I throw up, at least then if I do the components that leave me will be somewhat solid.” She shook her head, wanting to rid their attraction to her parent from her brain. They were supposed to be speaking about boys and girls, not grown ass men that happened to be directly related to her! Of course many knew of who her father was, he was a worldwide famous actor, who had reprised the role as Loki once more to carry his own show. If they had a crush on her dad, she’d have preferred that they have kept it to themselves.

Sitting at the dining table was tense, she loved your cooking, but one thing that she did not condemn was her friends constantly asking questions to Tom, as well as ogling at him through their peepers. Juliet turned her gaze to see whether you had noticed, and she could tell you did. You were constantly pretending to wipe your mouth, but she knew that trick; you were laughing at their youth, slightly amused by how your husband would constantly look at you for reassurance. When all the supper was consumed, Juliet followed you to the kitchen where you had opted to wash the plates and cutlery whilst Tom was exhumed with a flurry of enquiries from the two guests.

“They called dad a dilf.” She muttered to you, watching as you quirked a brow, hardly surprised in the slightest. “Just... ew. Like they’re my friends, and they think my dad, the man who literally half created me, is hot.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to be having this conversation with J.” She stared at you, expecting a reprise of more knowledge to be shared with her, for she had not quite conquered the womanly wisdom that was transfused through your brain; she wanted to hot wire it, make it work without having to ask for the key. “I mean, I agree. Your dad is a total dilf, and don’t even get me started on that thing that he does when he u-“ Juliet held her hand up, silently begging you to stop going on about her father.

“Okay, I get it. Your like the worst person to talk about dad and people finding him attractive with.” It was a confirmation to herself, as she curtly nodded, before exiting the room, and gathering her friends before ascending to the privacy of her room. “What should we watch?” She asked them once they had got ready for bed, awaiting an answer from both.

“Thor.” They both agreed on, making Juliet sigh, however reluctantly she fell into the trap, setting up the movie on Disney plus, rolling her eyes as she heard the whispers from her friends when Loki finally appeared on screen. “He is literally a god.” They drooled, causing Juliet to gag.

“He is literally my dad.” Was her retort back, unimpressed with their assertiveness to put their opinions forward. “And-“ before she could structure her point, a sound louder than the movie interrupted her, and simultaneously scarred her.

“Daddy!” Your wail through the walls made her feel nauseous, whilst the other girls laughed at the sound, stifling their noises through the barrier of their hands. Juliet wasn’t so amused...

11:42pm

The bed frame squeaked as the head board lightly and repetitively hit the wall. “Harder daddy, please.” You breathed again his lips, as you attempted to buck up against him, as a means to force his cock to reach deeper within you. “Feel so fucking good.” Each of your hands clawed at his shoulders, lulling him to do as you asked, as he adjoined your lips, ripping a swallowed moan from you. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You gonna cum for me sweetheart?” Tom asked from above you, huffing surprisedly as he found himself turned over, your positions switched as you were now the one on top. “Ride me then darling, make yourself cum and quiver around my cock.”

“I’d like to.” You teased him with a flirtatious wink, as you lightly leant back, giving him a great angle to view your breasts from, as you began to bounce atop of his hard shaft, making him groan out in pleasure from both the sight and the feel. “You’re so fucking big Tommy.” A sharp thwack registered on your behind, the pain emitting until it burned away into a pleasurable sensation, moving his hand back to repeat the action, to which he did.

“What’d you call me baby?” He asked, stilling your hips as whines slipped past your lips, urgent for some kind of friction to retrograde upon your most sensitive parts. Tom grasped your jaw in one of his large and soft hands, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as you revelled your mind in thought for your mistake.

“Sorry daddy.” You poured through his grasp on you, almost making him pity you. “Just really like it when you spank me daddy, ‘s feels good.” To contribute what you were saying, another blow happened upon your backside, making you wince and keen altogether as you felt the blossoming heat erupt from under your skin.

“Now you’ve said that, I might have to spank you all night...”

8:17 am

Adjusting yourself upon the dining chair was painful, but not as painful as the flush to Juliet’s and her friends’ cheeks and down cast eyes that avoided you at all costs. Tom was cooking breakfast, attuning you to the presence of the minors for the moment. “So... what’d you girls watch last night.” When you had finished your session, you had realised that you could hear the telly through the wall, thus making you stumble upon the fact that they were certainly able to hear you vice versa on the other side.

“Thor.” Was mumbled by one of the guests, for some reason, the title of said movie making your cheeks flush, as you remembered how handsome he had looked in his first marvel appearance. He still looked as good, he had truly aged like a fine wine. You hated the fact that Juliet had chosen to quirk her brow at your divine intrigue, clearly seeing through your tender facade; you were trying to protect your dignity, which had vanished in her eyes when you asked her father to spank you.

“Good choice.” You nodded, swallowing down a mouthful of orange squash as you held in a whimper from the soreness of your ass.

“I’d say so.” Tom chipped in, placing a plate before you, as he pressed a kiss upon his cheek. “I’d say, that Loki is quite the strapping lad, he definitely knows how to rule.” He spoke whilst looking directly at you, making you subtly squirm.

If you had to be embarrassed for your deed, then they could be too. But Juliet had an inkling of a feeling that her friends had wanted to listen to her father have sex, watching as they had done nothing more than try and watch the first in a trilogy, so far at least. She had sunk her ear plugs into her canals, not wishing to here the crude spells that left your mouth, nor the noise of his hand rasping down upon your ass. There was nothing that she wouldn’t do to erase those sounds from her kind, however it rather seemed that her friends were more invested in the muffled audio rather than the storyline of the movie. It was understandable, they thought that her dad was a dilf, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t make her feel sick to the bone.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #imagines #imagine #xreader #marvel x reader #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #tom imagine #Tom

[justapurrcat]

The Spider’s Vow | p.b.p.

Pairing: mutated/spidery!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Excerpt: “From what little you’d seen of him, he looked younger than expected, and you would’ve been lying if you said he wasn’t quite good looking, with his brown hair tied back neatly, a sharp jawline and dark eyes. That was the information you had gathered, and at the moment you had no interest in finding out more. You would’ve had plenty of time to look at his face. The rest of your lives, to be precise. So why rush it?”

Word count: 16.118k

Warnings: English not being my first language, angst, fluff, smut, mentions of blood, spidery!Peter, Tom!Peter (aged up, of course)

A/n: ... this might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever written in my entire life. If you thought Sing My Love To You was unusual, you better buckle up for this one... pls don’t blame me, blame my stupid dreams. But yeah, with this, I’m starting to write for Tom!Peter, too. I have another thing planned for him for an upcoming event... and then Unscripted will be back at full force 😎💪

The Spider and the Butterfly Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

It all felt like a blur.

Voices overlapped with meaningless questions, figures moved around you, hands tended at your clothes and hair, the countless maidens coming and going from your room, bringing stuff in and taking other stuff out, guiding you, moving you like you were a life-size doll of the most precious kind.

A life-size doll…

Ever since your parents had given you the joyful announcement, without even bothering to wait for you to step foot inside the castle after so many years spent overseas, that was exactly how you had been feeling. You knew that they had summoned you back for one reason and one reason alone.

The ceremony hadn’t been particularly worthy of note, at least from your point of view, the heavy veil decorated with freshwater pearls and golden threads covering your face barely allowing you to see where you were going, let alone your surroundings… or the face of your husband.

He hadn’t kissed you after the pronunciation of your vows, he’d just put a ring on your finger, thrown his cloak over your shoulders, and called it a day, escorting you out of the church with the veil still hiding your face.

To be completely honest, you had preferred it that way.

It was during the excessively lavish banquet that you’d finally gotten the chance to see what he looked like. Everyone would’ve expected you, a newlywed bride, to be happy and unbelievably inpatient for that moment, but you observed him tiredly, distractedly, your sole motivation being that you simply wanted to associate a vague face to the name.

From what little you’d seen of him, he looked younger than expected, and you would’ve been lying if you said he wasn’t quite good looking, with his brown hair tied back neatly, a sharp jawline and dark eyes. That was the information you had gathered, and at the moment you had no interest in finding out more. You would’ve had plenty of time to look at his face. The rest of your lives, to be precise. So why rush it?

Lord Parker. The Spider.

You considered it a cruel joke to break your heart even more. You had dreamed of this for so long. Ever since you were a child. Marrying Lord Parker, living in that castle with him. The most perfect fairy-tale. Too bad he wasn’t your Lord Parker. He might’ve resembled him, which was even worse, but he wasn’t him.

Even the entire celebration had felt like being thrown headfirst into a sea of sensations you couldn’t handle.

Red and blue, purple and gold, the colours of your now joined Houses blossomed in your vision, the usually delicate fragrance of lilies – which, being your favourite flowers, had been used to adorn the already rich hall in your honour – was stronger than usual and filled your nostrils aggressively, the music you would’ve loved to dance to, along with the cheerful laughter, the greetings, resounded in your ears like a void sound.

The general happiness you should’ve been the first to experience was surrounding you, spinning around you, but never touching you.

Apparently – and quite surprisingly – your husband had sensed your discomfort, granting you permission to retire to your quarters if you were in need of some silence and tranquillity. Those were the only words he had spoken to you during the whole evening, the never-ending series of guests coming to your table to offer their gifts and best wishes making it quite difficult to strike up a conversation.

Not that you were particularly looking forward to it.

And now, there you were, sitting in front of the fireplace in what remained of your wedding gown, the heaviest layer having already been removed, a pair of nimble hands carefully unlacing the back of your tunic, and a bowl of grapes in your lap.

Feeling observed, you took a look around the room, until you found two big brown eyes staring at you curiously.

Studying you attentively, clumsily hidden behind a pillar, was a little girl, barefoot and with her hair down, a white nightgown down to her calves, the elaborate lace interlaced with a red ribbon around the neckline an index of her status and identity.

The little Lady Morgan, you figured.

Her existence wasn’t a mystery to you, you had been informed that Lord Parker had taken a protégé under his wing. Or rather, under his web, as the people liked to say. Because what else could people say about the Spider?

You silently beckoned her, inviting her to sit next to you on the cushions, offering her some of the grapes you hadn’t touched yet.

She carefully extended a hand to take one, but as soon as she did, a harsh voice came from behind you. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, Morgan?”

A tall, Junoesque woman was towering over you both, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. You recognized her immediately: Audra.

Among such a great number of unmarried girls destined to your service, she was the only exception. Not only a mother, but already a widow. She wasn’t old, being still in her thirties, and her beauty held such an elegant, mature charm that it made you feel like a little child.

It was clear that she was in charge of all the other girls, also because of the fact that she was the only one in control of her own emotions: each one of them, no exception, was either trying their best to hold back tears, or sobbing in the most discrete way possible.

When being asked why, their sole response had been an apology and nothing else.

The child promptly straightened her back, placing her folded hands in her lap. “I was… but I couldn’t sleep…” She looked at you with doe eyes. “It’s always so boring!”, she complained, trying to get you on her side. “I was at the ceremony, but I’m never invited to these feasts!”

“Because you’re too little”, Audra replied curtly. “Now, stop bothering the Lady and go back to your chambers before I drag you there by the ear.”

“It’s fine”, you chipped in. “She’s not bothering me. I think we can let her stay until…” You stopped mid-sentence, realizing once again that you had no idea of what was waiting for you. Until what? “… while I get ready.”

“Are you sure, M’lady?”, the woman asked you, her stern look cracking a bit to reveal a worried expression. “Morgan is a child…”

“I’m some sort of a child myself”, you chuckled bitterly, humourlessly. “I don’t think I know more than she does.”

“Know about what?”, Morgan questioned, her eyes bouncing between you and Audra, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing important, young Lady”, you shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. “I’m certain you have far more interesting things to tell me. Morgan, is it?”

She nodded happily, and it felt nice to finally see a smile in what, except for Audra and you, resembled a vale of tears.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m y/n.”

Morgan kept you company throughout the whole process, as your maidens undressed you, bathed you, fixed your hair, more or less like they had in the morning.

One ceremony gone. Another one to go.

She told you all about herself, even the things that you already knew. But you let her talk anyways. It was clear that she was excited of finally having someone who actually listened to her. You knew the feeling all too well.

The only thing she told you very little about was Lord Parker. Your husband. Frankly, you were not complaining. The less you thought about him, the better: it wasn’t like your situation could be improved by any kind of information, so you could only wish for this whole pathetic ordeal to be over soon.

“Audra doesn’t like him”, she whispered in your ear. “But don’t trust her: he is very nice. He lets me call him ‘brother’ and has been taking care of me ever since mom and dad left…” Her lips pressed into a thin line, a hint of sadness obscuring her eyes for a moment. “You know, back when I was little.”

“You’re still little”, Audra corrected her.

Morgan frowned at the older woman, but then turned her attention back to you, showing you her fingers and whispering: “I’m ten!”.

Once they were done drying you up, they put you in a shift, the white fabric so fragile and ethereal it gave you the impression that even the smallest movement could rip it to pieces. Taking a quick look at your reflection in the mirror, you saw that it was almost transparent, too.

You had never worn anything so… revealing, the only thing preventing it from falling down your arms being the thin ribbons pathetically disguised as shoulder straps. All it would take was one tug and…

Well, my beloved husband will be pleased.

You grimaced at the thought, grabbing your robe and hastily throwing it on, shielding yourself with that barrier of violet silk. The fabric wasn’t that much heavier, but it was better than nothing. You knew it was silly, but it gave you a sense of protection.

It was your favourite colour, the elegant golden embroidery on your large sleeves and along your hem depicting lilies and butterflies, the symbols of your Home.

When you stepped out from behind the painted screen, tying the knot at your waist with trembling hands, Morgan interrupted her story about her most recent fencing lesson, a delighted yelp leaving her lips.

“You look so pretty!”, she exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping to her feet to run up to you. “Are those butterflies?” She wondered, fingertips tracing the figure on your sleeve. “My brother will be very happy: he loves butterflies!”

How lovely…

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that the poor thing meant no harm with that comment. “Thank you, Morgan.”

“May I come with you?”, she asked you, the simple question shocking you when you realized what she was implying. But before you could respond, Audra anticipated you.

“No.”

Morgan ignored her, keeping her pleading eyes on you. “Just for a moment. I want to say hello to–”

“I said no!”

The scream echoed in the big room, freezing everyone on their spot, the voices dying out, a deadly silence replacing them. Morgan was the one who broke it with a gut-wrenching sigh, as her eyes watered with tears.

You gave Audra a nasty look, which left her totally unfazed, then knelt down to face the little girl, who was now sobbing uncontrollably.

“Will you give me a hug?”, you asked her, opening your arms, and she didn’t need to be told twice, throwing her arms around your neck.

You caressed her hair, gently shushing her whimpers and trying to comfort her, the same way you would’ve needed your parents to comfort you on that atrocious day, years ago.

“W-what do you mean he…” Your voice was shaking, your vision growing blurry because of the tears. “No… no, you cannot be serious.”

Completely unfazed by your pain, your father eyed you sternly, disgusted by such an unladylike display of emotions. “Unfortunately, I am, dear. We wouldn’t have come here just to lie to you.”

“H-how did it–”

“Does it really matter?”, your mother intervened, placing a hand on your shoulder, but not a single ounce of solace came from that.

You remained quiet, still shaking your head, still not believing it.

“Oh please, y/n!”, she continued, this time with an exasperated tone. “Don’t act so surprised: that miserable boy has been sick his whole life.”

“He had no chance”, your father shrugged, like he was talking about the weather.

Your mother nodded at his words. “It was bound to happen.”

Another cruel stab, delivered so carelessly and yet hurting like hell. Straight faces stared back at you in total indifference, like you hadn’t just received the most terrible news.

Your father’s disgust turned to irritation. “For God’s sake, she looks like a widow mourning her husband. Make her stop, Louise. It’s indecent.”

“But… he promised…”

“Enough with the tears”, your mother waved her hand nonchalantly. “They will not bring him back from the dead, so why even bother?”

“And don’t even think of going back to England for the funeral. You wouldn’t make it in time. Besides, you still have much to learn here.”

Your heart sunk into your chest even more.

“I loved listening to all your stories”, you reassured the poor girl. “Would you do me the honour of joining me for breakfast tomorrow?”, you asked her, pulling back and placing your hands on her shoulders. “I want to know what happened after you and Lady Buttercup decided to play knights.”

Morgan sniffed loudly, drying her face with her sleeve. Her eyes were red and puffy, but at least she looked calmer.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s a bit embarrassing, actually… Lady Buttercup ended up losing an eye. Daria had to replace it with another one. That’s why she has a blue eye and a green eye.”

“A battle scar! That’s very tough of her”, you replied in a marvelled tone. “Why don’t you bring her along?”

Her face lightened up in excitement, eyes twinkling like stars. “I will!”, she exclaimed. “Thank you!”

“Thank you, Lady Morgan”, you smiled, then bowed your head solemnly. “I shall see you tomorrow morning, then.”

Right as you were about to get up, the girl raised her hand, holding her little finger up. “Promise?”

You were twelve and about to leave England on the very next day.

Peter was holding you tight. Clinging to your body like he believed it could keep you there with him forever. The shoulder of your dress was wet, soaked with the tears he wasn’t even attempting to hold back. Not that you were doing any better.

“I’m going to miss you so much”, he sobbed.

You gently rubbed his shoulders, forgetting about your mother’s words regarding how you should never get too close to a man that wasn’t your husband. You didn’t care. Not when you were with Peter.

You would’ve let gladly him hold you like that in the middle of a crowded square, instead of behind a pillar in a scarcely lit room.

“I’m going to miss you more”, you gulped, the excessive blinking not enough to clear your vision. “But think that it will be over soon”, you tried to sound cheerful and positive. “I’ll come and visit you as soon as I’m back, and I’ll tell you everything about Venice. Everything will be the same again.”

His hair tickled your cheek, the movement making you understand that he was shaking his head. “It won’t.”

“You’re my Peter”, you stated firmly. “Nothing can change that.”

“You’ll forget me.”

“I’ll write to you every single day.”

“And you’ll come back as a true Lady”, he countered, like he hadn’t even heard you. “A Lady with a husband.”

Horror pumped through your veins with every syllable of that last sentence. You tightened your hold on him, trying to express how much you cared about him. How much you loved him. “No. I promise you that will not happen.”

You hated that your words couldn’t keep up with your thoughts and feelings, that everything you wanted to say overpowered you so effortlessly the moment you attempted to speak it into existence.

You were twelve and you hated it.

It made you feel so clueless. So stupid. So young.

“You should not make promises you cannot keep, y/n”, he mumbled.

“Fine.” You pushed him back by his shoulders, and then held him in place, forcing him to face you. “Then you promise me”, you demanded. “Promise that you’ll marry me. That you’ll be my Peter forever.”

Cheeks streaked with tears, Peter looked at you with a painful fondness. How could he ever promise that to you, when his own parents kept reminding him he wouldn’t live long enough to become a man?

He didn’t want to disappoint you. He didn’t want to lie to you.

He already hated himself enough for the stupid situation he had put you in. You were about to go to Venice, The Floating City you’d always dreamed of… and there he was, ruining this moment, instead of being happy for you.

Once again, the sick toad was holding the butterfly back.

“y/n…”

“Promise me, Peter.”

He couldn’t and he knew it.

No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been there to wait for you on the day of your return. He wouldn’t have been there to kiss you for the first time. To tell you that he loved you.

This is our last goodbye, y/n…

But your eyes… how could he ever deny anything to your eyes? To you?

“I promise.”

“I promise.”

Hand in hand with Daria, a relieved and excited Morgan toddled out of your chambers after thanking you again and bidding you goodnight.

You observed her with a soft smile that, however, didn’t reach your eyes.

“You should not make promises you cannot keep”, Audra whispered in your ear as she passed right next to you.

It was as if everything in the World had stopped in that exact second.

Maybe not for everyone else, but certainly for you. The polychrome marble seemed to crack under your feet, the huge majestic fireplace was no longer enough to warm your room, allowing the cold to pierce through your soul.

Past broke into your present, shattering it with an unprecedented violence, and all you could do was gawk at her like you’d just received a slap across the face.

“This way, M’lady”, she simply told you, and you had no choice but to follow her.

You walked in silence for a while, making an exception your mother would’ve certainly complained about, and letting Audra precede you: etiquette made little to no sense when she was the one who actually knew where you had to go.

You were secretly thankful for that, taking the occasion to gather your thoughts and distract yourself. From what exactly, you didn’t really know.

Until Audra suddenly stopped in the middle of a hall and you almost bumped into her.

“What–”

“Pardon me for being so straightforward, M’lady.” She turned around to face you, eyebrows furrowed and creases appearing on her forehead. “But…” She took a quick look right and left to make sure no one was passing by or, even worse, following you. “Has your Lady Mother prepared you for… this?”

Embarrassed not only by the inappropriate question, but by the answer as well, you bit down on your lip, avoiding her gaze. “No”, you admitted. “She only told me that I must… be quiet and obey whatever my Lord husband commands.” You frowned while saying that, the idea making frustration bubble up in your stomach.

But, in all honesty, what else could you do?

Without warning, the woman gripped both your hands so tightly it almost hurt you. “Lay down. On your stomach if he lets you”, she instructed, making your jaw drop. “But if he wants you on your back, then be still and close your eyes. Make sure not to touch him in any way and, for the love of God, no matter what happens, what you hear or feel, or what he does to you, do not look at him.”

Fear, terror. There was nothing else you could see in the green of those eyes.

You tried to pull your hands from her grip, but she didn’t let you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s a monster.”

For a few seconds, you were at loss for words, torn between wanting to believe her and needing to think she was only playing some kind of sick joke on you. “What do you mean? He seems very well-liked”, you then tried to reason with her when you regained your voice. “His people are happy and satisfied… they love him.”

You hadn’t been told much about him specifically, only that after the death of the rightful heir, he had been declared legitimate in order to take the place of his brother.

A desperate measure, your father had called it.

A rather common thing that shouldn’t have surprised anyone, was the way you preferred to describe it, despite the horrified expression on your mother’s face whenever the topic was mentioned during a conversation.

However, you had been instructed about his lands and subjects, and all the people you’d met had told you the same thing: that Lord Parker was a brave, fair, and good man.

“His people don’t share his bed”, she argued, disgust distorting her features on those last two words. “His people don’t know what he really is like behind closed doors. When the dark of the night favours him.”

Audra finally released your hands and you stepped back quickly, as if she had just burned you. You opened your mouth to reply, to say something… but nothing came out: your throat was too dry and your brain too filled with questions, your voice nowhere to be found.

“There’s a valid reason why all your maidens were crying. Why I didn’t allow the child to come with you, even for a moment”, she told you. “The poor thing loves him dearly…” Her words were equally as harsh as she spoke about Morgan, the disgust overpowering the affection she had for her.

You tightened your arms around you, clenching the purple fabric in your fists. What kind of a man was this new Lord Parker?

“… but she doesn’t know that her saviour, her so-called ‘brother’ is a monster who ruins everything he touches. I informed all the girls at your service… but I couldn’t say anything to the child. The truth would break her heart.” Once again, her voice held more hate than sadness, a weird feeling that only added to your internal turmoil.

“I know you didn’t appreciate my manners earlier”, she recalled. “But trust me: we cannot let Morgan near his presence after a certain hour.”

“And yet, you’re bringing me to him”, you snapped without thinking.

Audra sighed, an understanding, yet tired expression on her face. “You’re his wife, M’lady. Do you think I have a choice?”

“No…”, you lowered your gaze, mad at yourself for that stupid reaction. “I suppose you don’t.”

“Very few know the horrific truth… unfortunately, I happen to be one of them.”

“It would be useful if you stopped with the charades and spoke openly”, you replied, but there was no bitterness in your words, only an exhausted resignation.

“I dare not speak about that, M’lady”, Audra shook her head. “I feel like I’ve said too much already.” But she still took a few steps in your direction. “The only thing I can add is…” She lowered her voice even more. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

You tilted your head to the side, perplexed by the apparently unrelated question, then simply nodded.

“Did you find him handsome?”, Audra asked again, but it was clear that she wasn’t really expecting an answer from you because she resumed talking without giving you the time to confirm or deny that. “Do you think he is healthy? Strong? Be aware that he obtained it all thanks to a deal with the Devil himself.”

She signed herself at least three times after that, never failing to kiss the wooden cross around her neck.

You had no idea how to react, the revelation sneaking its way on your skin and sinking into your brain like a thousand little ivy branches. They tied you up, circling around your neck, covering your limbs, keeping you still as a statue in that mostly dark alley, with the sole company of a woman carrying one too many secrets.

“A-a… d-deal with the Devil?”, you repeated, beyond shocked.

And yet, there was still something that didn’t sit right with you. Something that felt off.

Audra had just shared a horrific truth with you, but she was still behaving as if that wasn’t the worst possible thing she could say.

What was all the mystery and secrecy about, then?

“Yes, M’lady”, Audra nodded seriously, distracting you from that lucubration. “May the Lord have mercy on your innocent soul…”

You shivered, holding onto the fabric covering your arms.

“Because the Spider will not.”

The menacing sound of the heavy doors closing behind you felt as loud as a thunder.

The master room was large and exquisitely elegant, yet surprisingly sober when compared to the rest of the castle. Even your chambers were more luxurious, the disorienting contrast with the clean lines and absence of excessive decorations making you feel like you’d just entered a completely different place.

It would’ve been refreshing, hadn’t it been for the humongous canopy bed dominating the space, and for the man standing in front of the fireplace with his back turned to the entrance, his silhouette outlined by the reddish-golden light.

Between the two, you honestly didn’t know what scared you the most.

The Lord was barefoot and, just like you, he had gotten out of the solemn and ridiculously heavy ceremonial wear, changing into a pair of tight trousers that hugged his lower half as if they had been modelled right on his body, and a simple linen shirt that let his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back free to be seen in all their glory, without a cape hiding them.

His hair was no longer tied back, the loose, untamed curls reminding you even more of your Peter…

He turned around and you immediately looked away, both intimidated and ashamed for almost getting caught staring at a scarcely dressed man. “My Lord…”, you murmured, sinking down on one knee and bowing your head, not daring to face him.

‘He’s a monster.’

“My Lord?”, he repeated with a light chuckle. “You needn’t call me that… we’re husband and wife.”

Hearing him say that, now that you two were alone in his room, with nothing but light layers of clothing covering your bodies, sounded like a death sentence, the reality of it all crumbling upon you.

“I apologize, sir.”

You were married to this man, your parents had given you to a Lord you didn’t even know and, like everything in that land, you now belonged to him. You had ceased being a person, turning into a property. The wedding ceremony had made it official before God and the Law. And that night was about to make it official on your skin.

Assuming I survive this…

Your words were followed by a brief silence. “There’s no need for that either… husband or Peter will do”, he offered.

Peter…

Even after so many years, that name never failed to make your heart bleed.

My Peter…

No, you couldn’t call him like that.

“As you wish…”, you replied, your faint voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “… husband.”

He sighed, clearly not happy with your choice, but didn’t say anything about it.

You gulped as you felt him approach you, each one of his steps sending a shiver down your spine. Much to your surprise, he didn’t order you to stand up, instead kneeling down to your level to observe you. But you still kept your eyes on the floor.

He reached out for you, taking your hands in his with such care one would’ve thought he considered you made of glass. You fought the urge to jump back and did your best to keep still, your mother’s warnings mingling with Audra’s ones in your terrified thoughts.

‘May the Lord have mercy on your innocent soul… because the Spider will not.’

“Your hands are cold”, he pointed out, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“I apologize…”

“What for?” He sounded genuinely confused, but it didn’t take him long to understand what you meant. “Never mind.” He stood and gently pulled you up. “Come with me.”

Scared that your every action could anger him and be the last, you didn’t resist as he guided you towards the fireplace. You didn’t protest when he placed his hands on your arms, rubbing them softly through the fabric.

“Better?”

You answered with a weak nod.

It was a sweet, wholesome gesture and, you hated to admit it, but a part of you felt unbelievably grateful for it, regardless of the fact that it was coming from him of all people. It was something you were desperately in need of, but never would’ve dreamed of receiving, least of all on a night like that.

“Do I frighten you so much?”, he questioned, a note of seemingly genuine sadness in his tone. “It didn’t use to be like this…”

Wait, what?

Before you could gather the courage to ask him what he meant with that last sentence, he took your hands again, bringing them up to his face. “But I swear on my honour…” For a second, you thought he was about to kiss them, but instead he raised them until they were touching his forehead, like they were a sacred object. “I have no intention to hurt you, y/n.”

Your throat ran dry, your name on his lips sounding so right it almost made you think it was wrong. You felt so light and heavy at the same time, a strange sense of wholeness and consequent guilt co-existing in your being. You hadn’t felt that wholeness since…

Since…

Likely oblivious to the storm of emotions he had unleashed in you, he lowered your hands, so that they were no longer shielding his face, but still held them close to his chest, right over his heart. “May I call you y/n?”, he asked you, sounding a bit embarrassed.

You nodded, too stunned to say a single word, then hesitantly raised your head, finally seeing your husband.

Those eyes…

How cruel could Fate be? Ripping something from you and then playing with your mind, presenting it back into your hands, so different and yet so similar, planting the seed of hope in your heart, but keeping its knife ready to cut any good thing that could grow from it.

“I…”, he began, then nervously cleared his throat. “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am… to finally see you again.”

“Again?” It came out as a pathetic sound, nothing more than a shaky breath.

No. How could this be possible?

A soft blush coated his cheeks, that shade of red blooming in that all too familiar way, blossoming like a red rose in the snowy field of your frozen memories. “I don’t expect you to remember.”

“My Lord?” He frowned at that – the expression still engraved in the back of your mind –, so you quickly corrected yourself. “H-husband?”

“It was long ago… we were ten”, he recalled wistfully. “Children, but I remember it all so vividly.” His heart sped up under your hands. “… there’s no chance I could forget about it. About you.”

You held your breath. A new Lord and a beloved memory, a slave of the Devil and a young man who blushed when looking at you. This person was a nobody to you. But at the same time, he was also so much more…

He threatened be everything.

With a dreamy look in his eyes, he kept talking about the past, drawing it closer and closer with his every word, tugging on that same golden string you had never found the courage to let go. “You were already a perfect little Lady, with a smile that would put the sun to shame, but I… I wasn’t worthy of your light.”

“What are you–”

“Toad”, he said, and for a second his jaw clenched. “They would all call me like that. The sick child no one, not even his own parents, wanted.”

One of the perks of belonging to a family that was very close to the king was being often invited to court, especially on the occasion of grand celebrations.

Those were the moments of the year that you preferred, because they granted you some time with your friends, away from all the boring etiquette lessons and the seriousness your parents already required of you at such a young age.

While the adults drank and discussed, you played and laughed all together, making up for all those months spent apart from those who lived too far to pay them frequent visits.

On bright days like today, you would all run outside, enjoying the bright sun and fresh air, and right now, you were in the process of assigning the different roles, with the idea of staging a little play for your nannies.

“I will be the Knight of the Mountain!”, Eddie decided, proudly standing up with his hands on his hips.

“Then Sylvie can be the Princess of the Valley”, you announced, reinforcing the concept by placing the flower crown upon your friend’s head. You had made it just for her, attentively choosing and picking the ones that would look good with her dress. “Look how pretty she is.”

Eddie nodded distractedly, more focused on whether he should carry a sword or a bow, but Sylvie knew exactly what you were doing – her massive crush on Eddie being a secret to no one but Eddie himself – and gave you a grateful look.

“But what about you, y/n?”, David asked, taking one of the flowers from your lap and using it like a monocle.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks starting to heat up under his gaze. “I played the Princess last time. I want to be the Witch of the Forest.”

“A Witch is pretty much useless without a Sorcerer”, he pondered seriously, completely missing out on the frown that obscured your face because of that consideration. “I will be your Sorcerer.”

“Can I play with you?”

All your heads whipped in the same direction, a scrawny little kid with wild curls and big brown eyes standing a few feet from you.

You knew who he was, but that was the first time you got to see him in person.

Lord Parker’s son, Peter.

His family’s land was actually quite close to yours, maybe even closer than Sylvie’s, but she had told you that his parents would never let him to go out, and that the extremely rare visits they would allow followed a strict list of rules that basically made having fun impossible.

Not quite the most favourable conditions to make friends.

You put on your most welcoming smile and were just about to tell him that yes, of course he could play with you, because the more the merrier, when David jumped to his feet, standing right in front of you.

“Go away, you monster!”

You were absolutely taken aback by his words, but what was worse was that you seemed to be the only one in your group reacting like this.

Peter’s hesitant smile fell like an early spring snow. “I-I’m not a monster…”, he tried to protest.

“You are!”, Eddie intervened. “Look at yourself: you’re green!”

Those big eyes watered with tears, but Peter did his best to hold them back. “I… I’ve been sick…”, he explained. “But I’m bet–”

“You always get sick, you disgusting toad.”

You looked on your left, discovering that the sweet, kind Sylvie had been the one behind those vicious words. She was looking at him with a hate you didn’t think her capable of, like she would’ve gladly crushed him under her foot. Clearly, she couldn’t do that, but she had other plans.

Too paralyzed with fear and disorientation, you witnessed in horror as she grabbed a rock and threw it at him, hitting his shoulder. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, and something in that reaction screamed that she was originally aiming for his head.

“Go away before you infect us all!”

“But then, there you were…”

His warm hand cupped your cheek and you gasped lightly.

Maybe because of the surprise, maybe because you needed air, maybe because that memory still made you feel like you’d just received a slap across the face by your self-proclaimed best-friend, even after so many years.

“… always so kind and sweet.”

After coming out of your frozen state, you had yelled at your so-called friends, resorting to the most unladylike words in your vocabulary, and now you there you were: walking alone in the vast park surrounding the castle, cheek still burning from Sylvie’s slap.

You found him curled up beneath a willow, tracing shapes and figures in the dirt with a stick. The gut-wrenching sniffs and sobs had given him away.

“Hi, Peter…”

He immediately stiffened, interrupting what he was doing.

You approached him slowly, like you would’ve done with a wounded animal. “What are you doing?”

“Why do you care?”, he scoffed.

“I’m just curious.” You opened your arms, hands open to let him see that you had no hostile intentions. “Can I play with you?”

“No.” He stood up, tossing the stick into the nearby lake and getting ready to walk away. “Leave me alone.”

“But you’re crying…” You caught up with him, daring to wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Does your shoulder hur–”

“Mind your fucking business!”, he yelled, escaping your grip and shoving you back with a strength that surprised you both. You stumbled a bit, tripping on your skirts, but still managed not to fall, a mixture of shock and sadness on your face.

The boy stared at you with wide, frightened eyes, looking absolutely aghast at what he’d just done. “I-I…”, he stuttered, failing to control his tears. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to h-hurt you, I–”

“It’s okay”, you cut him off, taking a step closer, so that you could hold his trembling hand in yours. Your mother would’ve certainly scolded you for such a daring behaviour, but you didn’t give a damn. “I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

He looked down at your thumbs gently rubbing the back of his hands, then back at you, eyes red and glossy. One final, broken whine, and then the tears were running down his pale cheeks, violent sobs shaking his frail body uncontrollably.

You immediately pulled him into a hug and, despite the initial interdiction, he was quick to wrap his arms around you. Desperate for even the smallest scrap of affection, he clung to your body like it was an anchor, burying his face into your neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”, he kept repeating between sighs.

“It’s okay”, you reassured him, running a hand through his soft chocolate curls.

“T-they’re so mean…”, he whimpered. “I only wanted some friends…”

“You have me”, you declared firmly. “I’ll be your friend.”

He pulled back a bit, just enough to look at you without getting away from the hug. “Do you mean it?”

“I do.” You nodded, then cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”, you asked, noticing the way he winced at your touch.

“A bit”, he admitted.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the sour spot through the fabric, then massaged it with your palm, just like Dot did to you anytime you'd get hurt. “Better?”

“Yes…” He looked puzzled, your gentle actions feeling like a foreign, yet enticing language to his body. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it”, you smiled, the arm still wrapped around his body pulling him back in as you let his head rest on your shoulder once again. “I’m y/n.”

He sniffed unceremoniously, but a grateful smile lightened up his face. “I’m Peter.”

On that day, you had lost several friendships, trading them all for a new one. One that had grown and evolved into something stronger. Something you were convinced you had lost forever, up until a few minutes ago.

His hand was still cradling your face, the thumb brushing your cheekbone. “I’m positive you saved my life without even knowing it.”

“May I have the honour, my Lord?” You offered him your hand, pouting when he didn’t take it. “Aren’t you dancing?”

“My mother forbade me”, he told you, shaking his head lightly.

You blinked at him in disbelief. “But it’s your birthday…”

“She says it’s bad for my health”, Peter replied with a defeated sigh. “How about you? Isn’t this your favourite dance?”

“Your mother forbade me”, you shrugged nonchalantly, as you sat down next to him, playfully using your wide skirt to cover his knees. He would usually do the same, throwing his cape over your shoulders, but this time he didn’t.

Peter lowered his eyes, the familiar light blush coating his cheeks. “David has asked you at least four times”, he said, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Only four times?”, you groaned in annoyance, and he secretly rejoiced at that.

Peter didn’t like David. He didn’t like the way he looked at you. He didn’t like the way he kept shadowing you even after you had clearly told him to vanish from your sight.

“It feels like he’s been following me around for the whole evening!”

“He has…”, Peter muttered under his breath. “But why don’t you dance with someone else? David isn’t the only one who asked you”, he tried again. He was jealous and he hated that he couldn’t be that someone else, but he also didn’t want to be the reason behind you wasting your night and not having fun.

“It’s fine, Peter, really”, you smiled and you really meant it.

“But this is your favourite dance…”

Your hand on his surprised him, just like all the other times. You had known each other for almost a year and a half, and yet he still wasn’t used to receiving affection and being the object of kind gestures.

“I don’t want to dance if I’m not dancing with you.”

That was the best birthday of his life, spent chatting and laughing with you, alone in a room full of empty people.

“I’ve never been as happy as I was during those two years when I could call myself your friend”, he said, pulling you out of those rose-tinted memories, back into the amber light outlining that dark room. “That was when I started to like butterflies… they reminded me of you.”

Gulping, you felt your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. Of course you remembered. It was him. And he remembered, too.

“Peter…”

Without warning, you threw your arms around his neck, crashing your chest against his with such energy that it almost hurt. It felt like hitting a stone wall, the impact knocking the wind right out of your lungs, but the pain was honestly the last thing on your mind right now.

Peter stumbled back a bit, mostly out of surprise, his strong body allowing him to absorb the hit better than you did. That feeling rapidly wore off, leaving a clear path to joy: returning the hug, he picked you up, spinning you around like you had no weight. “y/n…”

You laughed in pure delight, but that was only one of the many emotions that were happening inside of you. Only one of the many reactions that you needed to let out.

“It’s you.” Your voice got muffled against his shoulder, your hands getting lost in his hair. “It’s you.”

You were convinced that never in your entire life you had felt this euphoric, the unstable, fragile, grey World you had locked yourself in, healing with a deflagration of light and colours. Maybe you should’ve been crying, it seemed more fitting in a moment like that, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do it. You felt like laughing. And dancing. And filling the void of the universe with the symphony of your happiness.

You had given up on this moment, everything around you screaming how it would never happen, and yet, there you were. It was like your whole existence had led you to this. To him. All that mattered, all that you could care of, was Peter – your Peter – being right where he was supposed to be.

In your arms.

“Hey, Little Butterfly…”, he cooed, the curve of his smile caressing your temple. He stopped the spinning, allowing your feet to touch the floor again, but didn’t let go of you.

“M-my parents told me…”

“I know. It was what everyone was told”, Peter revealed with a defeated tone. “I wanted to write to you so badly… but I couldn’t.” He remembered his parents’ threats of having you killed being the only thing that was able to stop him. “This couldn’t leave the castle.”

You finally looked at him, still observing him like you couldn’t believe he was real, joy and confusion running through your veins. “But why? What happened?”

“It’s… uh… it’s complicated.” He winced at his own phrasing. “I found a way to heal myself, but it was…”

“A deal with the Devil?”, you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“What?!”

“Audra told me you made a deal with the Devil…”

“No!”, he yelped, squinting his eyes in an offended look. “I mean, I understand that Lord Loki can be rather sinister sometimes…” He pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks a bit in a poorly convincing smile. Maybe he didn’t entirely believe that either. “Well, most of the time, but he was the one who helped me, not the Devil!”

“You used dark magic?”, you asked, no actual trace of judgement in your tone, so Peter relaxed a little. Besides, you were still holding him… that couldn’t be a bad sign, right?

“I was desperate… and probably not even thinking straight because of the fever”, he mumbled, appearing a bit annoyed at himself, though you couldn’t quite understand why. “But he offered to help me when it was clear that no physician could.”

It all started to come together, all the little pieces scattered along your memories finally finding their legit place. You couldn’t explain it, but what wouldn’t have made sense to a anyone else, did make sense to you.

“Is this the real reason why they made you fake your own death? Why they made the World believe that you’re a different Peter Parker?” They were all questions, but they didn’t really need an answer. “Because they couldn’t explain how all your illnesses were suddenly gone.”

“It was their condition to let me stay”, he confirmed your doubts. “People would’ve noticed. They would’ve made questions…”

“Therefore, they instructed you to come back and pretend you were your father’s bastard… and very few know the actual truth”, you completed the story for him, Audra’s words from before finally gaining some sort of significance, even if impossibly twisted.

“I’m sorry I lied to you”, Peter apologised. “I understand if you’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“Well…” You paused only to land a fake punch on his shoulder. “I’m a bit mad, if I have to be honest.”

“A bit?”, he whimpered with a playful scolding tone. “That hurt!”

“But I’m too happy to care about it, right now.”

“Happy?”

“You’re my Peter”, you said with a disarming simplicity.

Peter almost crumbled to his knees at that, relief and delight filling his heart so much he feared it could explode. “You don’t know how long I’ve wished for you to call me like that again”, he beamed with glossy eyes. “To hold you in my arms like this.” He squeezed a little more just to prove his point. “To call you my wife.”

You had always been told that a woman should never initiate an intimate act such as a kiss, that the proper thing to do was to wait for the husband to do something in every occasion… all stupid recommendations that were carelessly thrown out of the window as you raised your head in search of his lips.

They were soft, softer than you’d imagined, a little chapped because of his old habit to chew on them whenever he was worried about something, but so terribly sweet, the faint lingering flavour of the rich foreign wine you had barely sipped adding an intoxicating note to that unprecedented experience.

Peter’s hands settling right below your shoulder blades inspired more courage in you, so you got onto your tiptoes, hands resting on the sides of his face ad you both parted your lips to deepen the kiss. It felt like being filled with soft golden daylight, like he was breathing sunrays in the cold, dark night you had been carrying in your heart for so long…

“S-stop”, he panted, shying away from you. “It’s better if we stop.”

“Is something wrong?”, you asked, worried he might be disgusted with your behaviour, your mother’s warnings coming back to you twice as strong and threatening. You tried to move closer, but he didn’t let you, so you stopped, guilt devouring you.

“No”, he denied firmly, but his body was saying otherwise.

“Peter, your face…”

“I know”, he wailed, covering his enflamed cheeks as best as he could and turning his back to you. “I know. And it’s not your fault, please believe me y/n, it isn’t. I just… I just need to calm down…”

“Calm down?”

“I hate this”, he complained, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it in frustration. “I hate that we’re doing it like this.” He huffed audibly. “I wanted to court you, spend time with you, bring you lilies every day.” You were met with eyes filled with tears as he faced you again. “I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

You smiled with a tinge of sadness, feeling deprived of all of that as well. “All pointless gibberish to my parents”, you admitted. “And quite indecorous, too. My mother sounded so proud when she told me that your request to come and visit me as a friend was met with a categorical refusal.”

He nodded. “They said it was either an official proposal or nothing.”

“They got married like that, so to them it’s the only right way”, you considered, aware that it wasn’t a valid excuse, but also that there was nothing you could do about it now. “It’s alright, though”, you tried to reassure him. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to”, he replied, staring right into your soul. “God, I can’t even begin to tell you the things I want to do to you.” He slapped a hand on his forehead, whining loudly. “It’s all so… shameful.”

That word coming out of Peter’s mouth had an unexpected effect on you. It was a combination that you, from your ignorant sheltered innocence, had never even considered. But now… now, you discovered that it intrigued you more that it should’ve had.

And you wanted to know more.

You took a step closer, removing his hand from his face, seizing the occasion to kiss his palm. “Then, show me.”

His mouth ran dry, the sweet nectar your body could offer him being all he could think of. “y/n… you don’t know what you’re asking me”, he tried to warn you, but did nothing to remove his hand from yours. “I-I might not be able to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop?” You placed his hand on your heart, keeping it there.

He closed his eyes, inhaling your scent, absorbing your warmth, letting the tantalizing rhythm of your life echo through him.

“Kiss me, Peter.”

It was just like it used to be when you were kids: he couldn’t nor wanted to deny you anything. So he finally allowed himself to fulfil the wish that was consuming him from the inside.

“Don’t you ever stop”, you urged him between each kiss and Peter wouldn’t have dreamed of it. He hugged you, grabbed you, felt you, stole your every breath, jealously treasuring every instant in his memory.

“Don’t you ever ever let me go again.”

“I won’t. I swear to God, I won’t.”

You became aware that he had been guiding you towards the bed only when your calves hit the foot of it, the weight of what you were doing, what you were about to do, sinking into your bones. That was the point of no return and the silent look Peter gave you indicated that he was aware of that, too.

You undid the knot on your waist, then reached for his wrists and placed his hands on your shoulders, your request clear behind your lack of words. He gently moved the purple silk out of the way, letting it fall down your arms, then turned his attention to the ribbons keeping your remaining garment up. As expected, a light tug was all it took, the flimsy fabric pooling around your feet in the blink of an eye.

You kept your eyes on him the entire time, while his gaze roamed your body with curiosity and unabashed urge to let his hands do the same.

It started off quite innocently, fingertips following the length of your arms, leaving goose bumps in their trail, warm hands circling your waist and lightly squeezing your hips. “You are so beautiful…”

You inhaled deeply as Peter splayed a hand over your stomach, the distant dream of a family with the woman he loved finally within reach. He didn’t move it for a long moment, savouring the feeling, then dragged it up, cupping your breasts, fondling the supple skin. One of his hands remained there, while the other one continued to ascend your body, tracing along your collarbones and the back of your neck, just to see you tremble.

“So delicate…”, he hummed, dark eyes tracing your features, gentle fingers moving a rebel lock behind your ear, a sharp contrast to the way his touches grew bolder on your breast.

“Like a butterfly…”

Your eyes fluttered shut just in time for Peter to encircle your waist with his arms, leaving you no room to get away from his demanding lips.

Your bodies sunk into the mattress and into each other. He kissed your whole face, making you laugh like a child.

And that was when you saw it.

At first, you thought it was a painting portraying two lovers hugging each other, but giving it a better look, you discovered that it was a mirror, the figures entangled in a loving embrace actually being Peter and you.

Liquid fire spread over your whole face and neck, not anymore because of Peter’s ardour, but because of the embarrassment… but other than that, it didn’t surprise you as much as you would’ve expected.

After all, you had heard several stories about Lords and their vices, your self-proclaimed excellent father being no exception, keeping his mistress and their several sons and daughters in the castle, and actually spending much more time with them than with you and your mother.

He didn’t love his wife and he definitely didn’t love you. The duty had been accomplished with your safe birth, leaving him free to go back to his true family.

You had visited that wing of the castle only once in your life as a child and on an exceptional occasion, but it had been enough for you to notice that he had a painting of her in his office and that it wasn’t a chaste one, oh no.

When questioned about it, he had slapped you across the face hard enough to make you fall to the ground. Then he had told you how pleasure differed from duty and, most importantly, how he had never loved your mother. How he had never loved you.

That same day, Peter had held you for hours, kissing your wet cheeks and caressing your hair, whispering that he was nothing but a monster, because only a monster could ever commit the heinous sin of not loving you.

“What is it?”

You returned to that room, a concerned Peter lying on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows not to weight on you. “What are you staring at?”

You couldn’t answer him, words failing you, so he followed your gaze, turning around. “Oh… I… forgot about that”, he sighed, looking slightly annoyed. “It’s new. A wedding gift. The whole bed, actually”, he clarified with a roll of his eyes, the scowl being a perfect copy of the one you remembered seeing on his childish face. “Lord Barnes and Lord Wilson have a rather peculiar sense of humour when it comes to me.”

You had met the two Lords just a few hours before, and they were two of the few faces you actually remembered from the party. Lord Barnes had been quiet and grumpy, diametrically opposite to Lord Wilson’s friendly smile and cheerful laugh.

“I can have it covered, if it makes you uncomfortable”, Peter offered. “O-or we could go to your room, if you prefer…”

You shook your head. “No… no, it’s alright, I guess… I just find it a bit…”

“Weird?”

“I was about to say unusual”, you admitted with a coy chuckle. “But yes, ‘weird’ could be a good definition, too.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“It won’t as long as you keep kissing me.”

He grinned mischievously, then removed his shirt in one swift motion and you marvelled at the sight of his perfectly sculpted body, heat rushing to your cheeks as your gaze indulged on that marble-like torso. A finger under your chin made you raise your head, guiding your attention back to his face.

“That I can do.”

And he did, like he had no other purpose in his life, no other thought in his mind but you. Could a cruel, ruthless man kiss you like that? Could a monster kiss you like that? With such tenderness? With such a fiery need?

His mouth abandoned yours in exchange for your skin, eager to explore every inch of you. The delicate line of your jaw, the column of your throat, the valley of your breasts… he made his way down your body like a pilgrim following his path, your angelic features corrupted by his lust, the melody he was coaxing out of you filling him with pride and desire.

“L-Lord Peter”, you whimpered, as his lips neared your throbbing core, founding it glistening just for him like a priceless treasure. Your eyes were closed, your hands fisting the sheets so hard that, had you torn them, he wouldn’t have been surprised. And Peter discovered that he loved this. He loved having this power on someone else. On you.

“Lord Peter?”, he mocked, using his fingers to spread you like a flower, delivering lascivious kisses to the trembling petals. “I might like this…”

You were about to say something when he pushed his tongue inside you without a warning, the strong muscle massaging your untouched walls. And all that was left of your reply was a loud yelp of his name.

His mouth was restless on you, alternating between sucking on your sensitive bud, kissing your folds and breaching you with that sinful tongue. He devoured you like you were the finest meal he’d ever been offered, the absolute newness of such actions shaking you to the core.

Twelve seconds. Twelve never-ending seconds punctuated by the chimes of the bells, a distant sound in that unbelievable night. Twelve seconds covered that absurd time, spreading over that tiny fragment of your life.

Desperate, you grinded against his face, until you felt a pair of hands grip your hips, forcing you to keep still. “Behave, little Butterfly.”

… but he already had one of his hands on your breast. And none of these other two had a ring on.

Your eyes shot open, a shocking sight presenting itself to you through the replica of your bodies in the mirror. Trashing on the unmade bed, you were at the complete mercy of your husband, who still had his head nestled between your legs. Only, your husband no longer had two, but four arms.

Your hips kept moving on their own account, following the languid, tantalizing pace Peter had decided for you. And gradually, the mutation continued as his body slowly grew a third pair of arms.

Just like a…

The next changes happened in his mouth, and you didn’t see them. You felt them. Sharper teeth grazed your flesh, a wider, longer tongue allowed him to reach deeper into you, causing you to see stars.

You looked down, finding that Peter was already staring at you from between your legs. He snickered at how helpless he had reduced you with his mouth alone, the vibration traveling through you as two new sets of smaller and entirely black eyes appeared on his cheekbones, and another one above his eyebrows.

Just like a spider.

On the twelfth chime, right as Peter’s original eyes turned fully black, it was like the bowstring had been released, triggering a sensation that washed over your body with a power you had no idea could exist. You arched your back, hands in his hair to push him even closer to you, as an incoherent piercing sound broke out from your throat. You screamed his name against your fear, against all that should’ve horrified you.

He kept kissing you, carefully avoiding your sensitivity and instead focusing on your belly but he was gentler, hands massaging your thighs to help you recover from that mind-shattering experience. You felt like you were floating on a cloud, the delicious slight ache between your legs only adding to it.

“I wish I could’ve had you like this in the hall, right in front of everyone.”

You hummed in agreement, not really processing what he was saying. If anything, that sultry voice was lulling your brain, your limbs relaxed and weightless.

“That was inappropriate, I’m sorry…”

You blinked the pastel-tinted clouds away, falling back on that mattress with your mind suddenly clear. “P-Peter?”, was the first sound you managed to formulate, lowering your eyes on him. “W-what is going on?”

He returned your gaze with a dopey smile that rapidly vanished as soon as he read your expression. “Oh no…” Colour drained from his face, making him look as pale as the sheets you were laying on. “Oh no… nonononononononono.” He stood up and stumbled back in one quick motion, with his messy hair and his chin still glistening with your arousal.

“I’m sorry!”, he panicked, his body language resembling the one of a child expecting to receive a harsh beating. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”, he gulped, voice breaking and shaking. “I wanted to tell you, I swear, I just… I just didn’t know how…”

You prompted yourself up on your elbows, trying to get away from him. When your back hit the headboard, you realized that your body was still fully exposed to his sight, so you quickly pulled your knees to your chest, covering up as much as you could.

“I’m sorry.” Two hands got caught in his hair, other two covered the upper half of his face, both to avoid looking at you and to spare you the sight of his mutated features. The remaining ones maintained a defensive position, just like he used to do when his parents yelled at him, even for the most insignificant thing.

“It would be stupid if I told you not to be afraid”, Peter muttered, mad at himself for even thinking of saying that. He was basically a human spider, how could anyone in their right mind not be afraid?

“But please believe me when I say that I didn’t want to scare you…” He peaked at you from behind his fingers, relaxing a bit when he saw that you were now covering your body with– his heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know if you were doing it on purpose – probably not –, but you were using his shirt…

Well, at least something of him could make you feel safe…

However, that tiny fragment of relief vanished from his mind, as Peter remembered that he was apologizing for what he had done to you.

“A-and I know I shouldn’t have done that without telling you everything first, but…” He gulped and lowered his voice, filled with shame for what he was about to confess. “But I wanted to make you feel good, and you tasted so sweet I couldn’t stop, and I… I-I-I forgot about it like an idiot because all I could think of was you and your scent and – God, you smell amazing, it’s been torturing me since you arrived at the castle – a-and how lovely your sounds were and I just…” Biting his tongue, he wished he could take that pathetic last part back. “… lost control, I just wanted to make you happy…”

“Y-you’re…” You were about to say that he was different, but he interpreted it in his own way, finishing the sentence for you.

“A monster, I know, I’m sorry…”, he sighed, dropping all his hands, along with his head. He sounded so broken, and yet so used to it that it broke your heart.

And that was when it happened, when you overcame the shock, and came to see that little frightened boy again. His fragile body had evolved into a stronger, taller one, that could grant him protection from any physical threat, and this new metamorphosis – you had no other word for it – was another shield standing between him and the World.

But his gentle soul, his kind heart, had remained the same. It didn’t matter how threatening he could look, how powerful he could be, how easily he could crash whoever stood in front of him… Peter hadn’t changed one bit. He was still an innocent.

“But I swear to God that I wasn’t lying, I have no intention to hurt you, I would never hurt you because I love you so much and I would rather kill myself first, and I have dreamed for so long to meet you again, I did this because I wanted to keep the promise I made you and I had no other choice–”

“Peter…”

As if he hadn’t even heard you, he kept going, lost in his rambling. “But if you want me to leave you alone, I will, I understand if you want that, truly. If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you, but if you don’t, I promise I’ll leave the castle: I’ll disappear and everything will be yours and I promise I’ll never bother you again. I-I’ll write it down now, yes… yes.”

Writing a will before he left sounded like a good idea. Yes, you were his wife and Morgan was his protégé, but Peter wanted to make sure no one would attempt to take anything from the two of you. He looked around the room, trying to silence the noise in his head and to think of what he needed. “Paper, I need paper, and a quill, where did I leave my quill…”

“Peter…”

“I’m just glad I got to see you again”, he said with a sweet smile, daring to look at you for what he was sure would be the last time. He wanted to capture your face, eternalize it once and for all, so that he could keep it in his heart, like he had done for your last goodbye. No, better than that, because this time, he knew for sure he was never going to see you again.

“A-and that I could make you feel good. I-I know it sounds absurd, but ever since I got like this, I keep having thoughts and intuitions of the things I could do. I don’t know how it happens, it’s an instinct, like a sixth sense, and I’ve spent so much fantasizing of kissing you like that–why am I even telling you this?”

Right, why was he telling you that? Didn’t he have a will to write? “The desk!”, he exclaimed, heading towards it. “The desk! Paper, quill, ink, desk, right–”

“Peter, wait, please!”

You let go of his shirt and got up from the bed, picking up the robe and throwing it on, only to find that the silk sash was still laying on the floor. You didn’t want to waste time, so you simply wrapped yourself in it, using your hands to keep it in place, and tried to go after him, but your legs were still weak.

“y/n!” Peter turned around so quickly you lost track of his movements, and caught you right before you hit the ground, scooping you up in his arms – well, in a pair of his arms – and carrying you back to the bed like you were the most delicate, precious thing ever.

“You have to be careful, little Butterfly, you could’ve hurt yourself”, he told you, apprehension coating his voice, but then he chewed on his lower lip, aware of his mistake. “I’m sorry, I called you ‘little Butterfly’, it slipped out, I’m sorry–”

“Peter!”, you finally interrupted him, covering his mouth with both your hands. It came out harsher than you intended, so you softened your tone immediately after. “Be quiet for a moment, please.”

He nodded, surprised that you were touching him like it was normal.

He sat you on the mattress and you slowly lowered your hands, observing him in silence, studying him, seeing him for the second time that night.

“That’s why Audra doesn’t let you see Morgan after a certain hour”, you stated slowly. “Because she doesn’t know that you’re like this… that your body changes after midnight.”

On his knees in front of you, Peter blinked several times, utterly confused by the fact that, of all the possible reactions, you were choosing to talk about that, and so calmly, too. He nodded weakly. “And it stays like this until dawn. It’s the–”

“… the price you had to pay for the ritual.”

“You’ve always been so smart.” His head sunk between his shoulders. “I truly am not worthy of your light.”

You patted the mattress right next to you and, once again, Peter obeyed.

“Did it hurt?”, you asked in a murmur, looking down on your fidgeting hands.

“… what?”

“The…” You didn’t really know what to call it. “Process?”

Peter hated recalling that specific part of his life. But he owed it to you, you deserved the truth. All the truth, this time. “It was like my fever had gone worse, I kept coughing, throwing up green stuff, I could barely breathe and every time I did it felt like my lungs were on fire…”

The poor boy grimaced, the suffering and terror were still tormenting him in his nightmares almost every night. He had always been a sick child, but that traumatic experience had been the closest thing to death he could think of. “I was afraid it had all been in vain… but after a couple of days, I got better.”

A lump formed in your throat as you tried to picture what he’d just told you. Of course, you couldn’t, having never experienced such an intense and extreme pain that could make you fear for your life… what you could see, though, was the shadow haunting his gaze.

“I could’ve just accepted my fate, and my family would’ve been perfectly fine…”, he chuckled without a trace of humour. “They would’ve had another son, a healthier one.”

“Like they kept telling you”, you recalled with equal disgust and sadness.

“Yes…” He released a long sigh. “But I wanted to save myself… I didn’t want to die without seeing you again… without keeping my promise… without telling you that I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you. And I wanted to be healthy because I didn’t want to be the sick toad who would constantly hold you back and clip your wings. I wanted to have it all. Like a spider, I tried to grab too much… and this is my punishment. I’m a monster. And you are married to a monster… I ruined your life because I wanted to spend the rest of mine next to you… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I truly am.”

You didn’t say a word, that confession transforming the almost suffocating lump into burning tears that gathered in your eyes, clouding your vision.

Peter had gone through so much… he had done it just for you. And yet, he was prepared to give up on all that at your command. He wanted to have happiness with you, but he would’ve gladly stepped back, had that happiness not been yours first.

No one had ever done something similar for you before. No one had ever been willing to do all that was in his power and more to be with you, and equally willing to lose everything for you. No one had ever loved you that much.

No one could ever even wish to love you the way your Peter loved you.

“Peter.”

He reluctantly looked up from his lap, seeing that your eyes were shining with tears, but… that you were also smiling.

“Why are you–?” He fell quiet the moment you cradled his face with the same gentleness he had fallen in love with.

“Only my Peter would look at me like that”, you stated, glowing like a star.

The sweet, gentle butterfly had stolen the spider’s heart with no intention to return it.

“Now close your eyes.”

He obeyed, and you leaned in, brushing your lips against his eyelids.

You kissed each one of them, being extremely careful on the smaller ones, not a single inch of space left for fear or disgust. Taking the occasion you had always dreamed of getting, you kissed his rebel eyebrow, too, before eventually moving down and pressing your mouth against his for a brief, fleeting instant, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

Your fingers slipped through his hair as you placed your palm on his chest, right over his heart, the way he had done before. “This is still my Peter.”

Forehead touching yours, Peter’s breath itched in his throat, the rejection he was waiting for nowhere to be seen. “y-y/n…”

You knew that he was about to ask you if you were afraid, so you had to anticipate him, not wanting him to hate himself while you were trying to show him how deeply you loved him. You loved him so much you could never be afraid of him.

“Make love to me, my Peter”, you murmured, dragging your hand down his torso, until you reached between his legs. Not knowing how you should proceed, you settled for caressing his length with your fingertips through the fabric, the whine leaving his throat telling you that maybe you were doing the right thing.

Once you’d gained enough courage, you moved to straddle his thighs, the tender skin moulding perfectly with his firm one.

The whine turned into a guttural sound as he eyed you up and down, mesmerized by your slightly shaking fingers moving your robe out of the way, baring yourself to him. And you kept palming him, arching your back so that your chest touched his, your breasts brushing against the chiselled muscles.

Your beautiful face filled his vision, that lovely look of confused determination in your eyes disrupting his resolution not to touch you, instead making him want to defile you in any way possible. Peter had never done anything like that, but he could feel it, the Spider in him needing, craving that innocence.

Your lips came close, too close to his, voice reduced to less than a whisper as your plea came out sounding like a siren’s song in his ears.

“Make love to your wife.”

It was real, it was more that Peter could’ve asked for: you were not afraid, you didn’t care what he looked like, you wanted him… and he couldn’t hold back anymore. Once again, he realized he couldn’t deny anything to you. Especially not when you were asking him like that.

“Oh, y/n…”

He closed the short distance between you, easily taking control and aggressively dominating the kiss. You tried your best to keep up with his rhythm, but eventually you had to give up, surrendering and letting him guide you through it.

Peter drew you closer, hands on your waist, hips, breast, mouth swallowing your moan when your folds dragged along his clothed member. You were wet, he knew you were, he could smell it… but feeling it was a completely different story.

Before you knew it, he threw you back on the bed, trapping you in his shadow as he loomed over your figure, feverishly undoing his trousers. Once he was done, he completely removed them and threw them away, baring himself to your eyes, his hard length, now free from any confinement, slapping against his flat stomach and drawing a marvelled gasp out of you.

“Do you like what you see, my Lady?”, he teased you smugly, then crawled on top of you, lips ready to meet yours again. He parted your legs with his knee and settled between them and you gladly let him, wanting nothing more than to have him close.

God, I want you so much.

Take me.

The two of you broke away from the kiss at the same time, the confusion in his eyes reflecting in yours.

“What just happened?”, Peter asked breathlessly.

“D-did we…” You cleared your throat, trying to steady your voice. “Did we just…?”

He sat back on his heels, helping you sit up too, as you both tried to understand what was going on. “I heard your voice… in my head.”

“And I heard yours.”

His lips pressed into a thin line and his brows nearly meeting in the middle, eyes running over your face like he was looking for something.

“Telepathy…”, you mumbled in amazement. “Peter, I think we just–wait, what are you doing?”, you questioned him, biting back your chuckle at how funny he looked.

“Can you hear me, now?” He blinked multiple times in a row, maybe convinced that this could help him, ready to catch upon the smallest change in your gaze. “What am I saying?”

You shook your head, hating that you were disappointing him. “I can’t, I’m sorry…”

“Nothing?”, he tried again, leaning in.

You bit down on your lip. “No…”

Peter sighed in defeat, lowering his head on your shoulder, his curls softly tickling the side of your face. You caressed his cheek, your fingertips tracing your love for him onto his skin. He sensed it, and it immediately brightened his mood.

He raised his head, sending you a confident smirk, then his lips claimed yours again, ready to pick up where he left off, deciding that the telepathy issue could be discussed later.

This kiss was calmer, slower, but absolutely not lacking the burning passion from before. He gently pushed you back on the mattress, your arms wrapped around his torso allowing you to take him down with you. He regained his place between your legs, but still careful not to press himself flush against you.

You realized that, while he was naked, you were still wearing your robe, so you tried to push it off your shoulders, but Peter promptly stopped you.

“Could you leave it on?” He shyly asked you, cheeks flushing red. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen you in…”

You feigned hurt at his words, when in reality they made your heart burst. “More than my wedding dress? And you’re telling me this on our wedding night?”

“Yes…”, he nodded, but then his jaw dropped, the smile transforming into an expression of pure panic. “But wait, it’s not because your wedding dress wasn’t beautiful, because it was!”, he rushed to explain. “I just mean that I like this more because it has the colours and symbols of your Home and… y-you look so solemn in it even if it’s the only thing you’re wearing and…” He was caught off by your crystal-clear laugh, the ethereal sound bringing him back to childhood, reminding him why he was so in love with you.

“Oh, you’re teasing me…” He tried to pout, but it didn’t work.

“Just a little bit”, you admitted, brushing the tip of his nose with yours. “You’re cute when you look like you think you've said something wrong and desperately try to make it better. It’s one of the fondest memories I have of you.”

“Well…” Peter narrowed his eyes at you. “Did I make it better?”

“Just kiss me, silly.”

He complied happily, meeting you halfway when you raised your head, then sucked on your lower lip, waiting for you to do the same, building your confidence with his affection. His arm circled your waist, the sensation of the silk on his skin reminding him of a detail.

“y/n!”

“What?!”, you gasped.

“The sheets, the blood…”, Peter gestured awkwardly between your bodies. “I know it’s a disgusting tradition, but…”

Your mother had successfully avoided any talk regarding the act itself, but if there was one thing you had been repeated ad nauseam, it was the absolute importance of your blood. And despite how little the idea excited you, you knew that both Peter and you would’ve been in trouble if you hadn’t followed through.

“Oh. Right… right, let me just…” You gathered the fabric from your waist down, then simply folded it up and flattened it under your back, so that only the upper half of your body would rest on it. “Alright, now it shouldn’t be a problem.”

He agreed with a quick nod, the curls bouncing on his forehead.

“Will it hurt?”, you found the courage to ask.

Your husband took a deep breath. “I… cannot say that it won’t…”, he admitted with a heavy heart. “But I’ll do everything I can to make it hurt as little as possible. Do you trust me?”

There it was again. That radiant smile able to put the sun to shame.

“I do.” And this time, you actually meant it.

Peter returned your smile, lovingly cupping your cheek before placing his lips onto yours once again. He tried to control himself, letting you delve into the kiss in your own time. He followed your lead, gradually lowering his hips until he was grinding against you, his manhood dragging along your folds, your warm, pliant body inviting him closer and closer.

Are you ready?

Yes.

Peter pulled back again, but only because he wanted to look at you. He wanted to get lost in your eyes as he made you his, and he wanted you to witness the effect you had on him. He wanted to make love to you through your eyes, not only through your bodies.

He entered you carefully, murmuring a sweet apology for every whimper that tumbled out of your lips, every tear that fell from your eyes, every wince that altered your features.

You tried to control your breath, gripping onto his shoulders and enduring the burning stretch that increased with every new inch sinking into you. And not once did you advert your gaze from Peter. Audra had told you not to look at him, but you wanted to. You desperately wanted to. You wanted to look at your husband.

He wasn’t a monster. He was yours.

And he was beautiful.

When he finally bottomed out, completely sheathing himself in the Heaven that was your tight heat, his head dropped to the crook of your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get used to the foreign feeling. It was painful, but it also made you feel so incredibly complete. The World, the entire Universe, everything you could think of, began and ended with his flesh and soul connected to yours.

Peter listened to your body, for the first time in his life grateful to the sixth sense he had gained, and slowly started to move once he understood that you were no longer suffering. His thrusts were delicate, shallow, the welcoming hug of your walls making it tremendously hard for him not to be as rough as he wanted to be.

“There!”, you croaked out, eyes rolling in the back of your head when you became aware of something new inside of you. A tiny spot, more sensitive than the others, that you wouldn’t have come to know, hadn’t it been for what Peter was doing to you.

“T-there, Peter…”, you repeated, not exactly knowing what you were asking.

“Yes”, he growled. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew exactly what you were asking. “I can feel it.”

True to his word, he focused on that spot, increasing his pace, but still fighting that urge. Still attempting to ignore that damned voice dripping with honey and blood. That voice that kept ordering him to take you like the beast he was…

However, he wasn’t the only one wishing for more. You were growing hungrier. Greedier. And, sensing his discomfort, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, encouraging him not to hold back. “I’ve missed you so much, Peter… I want all of you.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe that you were really asking him that… nevertheless, he was more than glad to obey, finally letting the Spider take over, pounding into you at an inhumane pace that had the whole impossibly heavy bed shaking, those pitch-black eyes tearing into your soul the same way he was tearing into your body. He was enjoying every second of your ruin, the hands on your hips pushing you down on his cock in perfect sync with his thrusts.

Is your Lord making you happy, my Lady?

He was teasing you, but all you could do was nod, unable to even formulate the simplest thought in your mind.

Good. Because I’m going to make you even happier.

Your cheeks were shining with your tears of ecstasy, your neck and collarbone with his drool and the sight made him go feral. He gave you his all, his mouth latching onto your breasts, his sharp teeth nipping at the tender skin, his tongue and lips immediately ready to soothe and tend at it afterwards.

Supporting himself on only one arm, he snaked his free hand between your bodies, fingertips brushing over your bud in slow circles at first, but then quickly matching the punishing rhythm of his hips.

You had gone from not knowing you could ever feel such things, to feeling too much, his multiple limbs allowing him to satisfy you in more than just one way all at the same time. It was overwhelming to say the least, but you wouldn’t have changed any of it.

The same feeling from before started building up in your stomach, the same liquid fire ready to explode like a volcano. Only a hundred times more intense.

Your eyes shot open, the reflection above being all you could see.

The purple silk, folded up under you, was spread over the white bedsheets in the form of a pair of wings, the gold thread glimmering in the dim light of the candles and the fireplace. You gasped, both because of the increasing sensation and the realization downing on you.

With that image in your eyes, you came undone with a loud cry of your husband’s name. The wave hit you harder than before, and you convulsed under him, drowning in the bliss and sinking your nails into his skin to ground yourself.

Peter finished shortly after, the feeling of your walls tightening down on him being too much to handle. “y/n!”, he groaned loudly, emptying himself in you with one final thrust.

And then it all went still, your breaths mingling together and your hearts beating furiously against each other. The World outside of the boundaries of your trembling, tangled bodies slowly coming back into existence.

“Are you alright?”, Peter asked anxiously after a few minutes. “Did you feel good? Did I hurt you?”

You didn’t know what happened, but something sparked inside of you. You were sensitive, sore, but you still craved more. More of him. And you were going to take it.

Without answering, but animated by a newly-found energy, you pushed Peter away from you – wincing at the sudden sense of emptiness – and onto his back, getting on top of him and straddling his hips.

“y-y/n, what–”

You shushed him with an unexpectedly chaste kiss that he happily welcomed, then straightened your back and wrapped your fingers around him, licking your lips in anticipation when you felt him grow hard again under your feather-light touches.

What are you doing?

He looked at you with round eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips, resembling a lost puppy. It made your mouth water.

Making love to my husband.

Peter liked having power over you… but witnessing the breath-taking sight right in front of him, he discovered that he also enjoyed the idea of you ordering him around. Oh yes, he enjoyed it very much.

My Lady, my beautiful Lady…

My Peter…

Lowering your hips, you guided him inside you, your already nostalgic body immediately rejoicing at his presence. Now that the two of you had become one, you simply couldn’t have enough of him. Your husband had made you his. Now, it was time to make him yours.

You looked up, locking gazes with your reflection, discovering that your eyes were now pitch black, just like Peter’s. It was probably happening because of the mysterious force controlling what you were doing and maybe you should’ve been concerned, afraid even… but you just couldn’t find it in you.

Because yes, that force was moving your body around like a puppet… but your mind was perfectly clear. Enough clear to understand that what was going on with you was the same thing that happened to Peter: his instincts taking over and telling him what to do.

Sharing an experience so intimate as making love with him, gifting each other your body, heart and soul, had probably triggered a change in you as well. Probably a slightly minor one, since your appearance had remained the same, apart from your eyes…

But you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. If that change granted you the possibility to pleasure yourself and your husband, you were not going to complain.

As you leaned back, resting your hands on his thighs to support yourself, the robe definitely fell from your shoulders, gathering around your elbows, your body now completely exposed. The lewd view should’ve been enough to make you ashamed of your actions… but it only spurred you on. It felt too good to stop. Too good to even remember what shame was or felt like.

Two of his hands placed themselves upon your hips, gently aiding your ever more decisive movements, your moans got louder, as two other hands cupped your breasts, fondling them and toying with them. You impaled yourself on his member over and over again, his thumb regaining its legit place between your thighs, caressing your clit.

My little Butterfly…

With a smirk, you ran your palm over your belly, the sensation of the bulge under your touch driving you insane. You were aware Peter was following your every move with an enchanted stare thanks to that mirror, you knew he could see everything you did, and you could tell by the way he was twitching inside you that he was feeling just the same. You grabbed his wrist and replaced your hand with his, allowing him to touch what he was doing to you.

My y/n.

You took your husband's hand in yours, bringing it to your lips and kissing his knuckles. “I love you”, you whispered between each kiss.

What had started as a dreadful morning, had turned out to be the most beautiful day of your life. Your Peter was alive and well, he was with you again, he was your husband. And he had never stopped loving you. And now, you had the rest of your existence to enjoy and cherish that love, starting from today.

Peter smiled, admiring you shine in the morning glow. “I love you, too.”

After giving him all the love you could through your body, you had given him some more, falling asleep while holding him despite his barely human looks, and whispering sweet words in his hear. For the first time in forever, the nightmares had left him alone, vanishing into the reassurance of your warm embrace.

He still couldn’t believe his luck, your presence in his life, in his bed, lying on his chest with your arms wrapped around him, feeling like a miracle.

You traced the line of his sharp jaw with your lips, kissing your way towards his mouth, but pulled back right before you could get to them, leaving him chasing after you and earning a pout from him when you threw your head back so that he couldn’t reach you.

“Shall we get up?”, you suggested with a wink.

Not at all pleased with your proposal, Peter flipped you on your back, caging you against the mattress with his body. He was back to his usual form, but you had learned that the Spider’s enhanced senses and strength would stay with him no matter what.

And who were you to complain?

“No.”

“Don’t be a baby, my love”, you scoffed, pushing against his shoulders. Of course, it was of no use. “I promised Morgan I’d have breakfast with her.”

“Ah.” He pretended to evaluate your reason for leaving him. “So you’ve met my little Lady sister.”

“I have. And I’m also about to meet Lady Buttercup”, you replied seriously.

You and Morgan seemed to get along well, Peter could already tell. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to put any pressure on you, but his eyes sparkled with joy at that thought.

“Well, in that case, my dear wife…” he raised to his knees, offering you his hands to help you sit up, which you gracefully accepted. “I will not stand in your way. But on one condition. That you give me one last kiss. And another one after you’re dressed. And another one before you walk out the door.”

“A little demanding, are we?”

“I-I’m sorry, I… I just want to make up for eleven years of missing you…”

“I’m kidding, Peter”, you reassured him. Your delicate fingertips caressed his cheekbones and forehead, dancing around his eyes, right where his Spider ones would’ve been, and you traced their imaginary shape.

He leaned into your touch, as you followed the arch of his unruly eyebrow. “You kept your promise”, you reminded him softly. “I’ll give you all the kisses that you want.”

“Oh God, I’ll promise you the World”, Peter declared, sealing this new vow by bringing your lips together. “The World, y/n…”

Giggles filled the air and you both fell back on the bed, happy to steal a few more moments from the new day and to fill them with yourselves, separating only when breathing each other wasn’t enough anymore.

When Peter rested his forehead on yours, trying to catch some air, you carded your hands through his hair, playing with the curls. “Would you like to join us?”

“Won’t I be intruding?”, he questioned, visibly worried about what Audra could say or do. “It’s a Ladies’ gathering, after all.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “I can bring a guest.”

He raised his eyebrow at you. “Says who?”

You affectionately bumped his nose with yours. “The Lady of this castle”, you answered solemnly.

Peter shivered, making you roll your eyes at him. “Better not make her angry…”

“She can be a real monster when she is.”

“I think you’re mistaken with–”

“Don’t say it”, you interrupted him, shushing him with your finger on his lips. You didn’t want him to say that, not even as a joke, because you were aware that part of him was being painfully serious. “You are not a monster, Peter.”

Your hand moved to his chest, and you made him touch you in the same way, too. “Your heart… I feel it like it’s mine.” Your gaze never strayed from his face as you said it. “And I know that it’s a good heart. That you’re a good person.”

“y/n…”

Seeing that he was about to cry, you kissed his cheek, keeping your hands in place. “So, is it a yes?”, you breathed against the heated blushing skin, your heart racing with joy when you heard him smile. “You are going to join us?”

“I’d love to.”

A/n: ... pls don’t be mad at me, I know this was weird, to say the least, but I needed to write it. Plus, I have a weak spot for Beauty and the Beast scenarios, so I had no choice... I hope you enjoyed this at least a little, thank you if you made it here and remember that I love you 💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove

Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #the spider’s vow #tshwritersnet #tom!peter parker #tom!peter #spiderman #tom!spiderman #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #historical!au #aged up!peter parker #mutated!peter parker #spidery!peter parker #mutated!peter parker x fem!reader #spidery!peter parker x fem!reader #tom holland #the spider and the butterfly

[little-diable]

I've decided to add a collection of my smutty priest fics, since this list will definitely keep on growing. Please remember that I am not allowing you to edit or copy those fics.

Birthday Celebration (only priest fics)

Priest Riddle

"Angel" He calls me

Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Carnal Sin

The reader's mother had begged Priest Riddle to let the reader join his bible study, a bratty woman who wanted to make his life a living hell. Now it was time to finally teach her a lesson.

I own you

(Y/n) is a female priest working for Tom's local church. He visits her every Friday afternoon, confessing to his darkest secrets, but today he shares something else, something that forces her to follow his every command. Pwp basically

The Devil is Among us

The reader is in a desperate need, asking the Devil himself to help her with the daily struggles she keeps on facing. But what will she do when suddenly her local priest turns up?

Little Lamb

The reader helps Priest Riddle with his summer camp, guiding young children through prayers, through talks about God, and religion. She had been tied to him for years, he held her heart and soul hostage, taking her whenever he desires her.

The Devils Inside Me

The reader's parents think she is possessed by the devil, and only one man can free their daughter from His grasp.

Committed Sins

Priest Riddle and sister (y/n) keep on playing the same game over and over again, pwp

Holy Realm

(Y/n) has found her way back home, spending her summer vaction with her overly religious mother, who introduces her to a man that is set on blemishing her once pure soul.

The Rosary

Priest Riddle takes the reader's confession, and yet he does it quite differently than all other priests. Pwp.

Sacrifices (priest!dark smut)Father Riddle asks his community to think of sacrifices, ways to please God. But what if she doesn't have anything to offer, but her purity?

Priest Shelby

The Devil Works in Wicked Ways (smut)

She needs to be punished for ignoring priest Shelby's commands.

The sweet touch of darkness (smut)

The reader walks in on Priest Shelby fucking his hands, she tempts him and touches herself in front of him, hoping that he will finally give in. But all he wants is to free her from her sins - convinced that she is possessed by the devil's touch.

Preacher Barnes

Purity series (3/3)

She’s as innocent and bright as the day, he’s as dark and sinister as the night. What happens when the reader asks her preacher for help, to explain intimate gestures and feelings to her? Preacher Barnes has never been the best at voicing out his thoughts, so maybe he’ll just show her what it’s supposed to feel like.

Let me guide you child

The southern church community loves preacher James Barnes, but the reader appears to be the only one who has caught his interest, a woman that’s as wicked as the devil, luring the preacher right into her trap

A Preacher's Punishment

She has always been rebellious and even months after first joining the convent the reader is still a trouble maker. Her case calls for Preacher James Barnes, hopefully his punishment will put her back in her place.

A crime. A tragedy. A birth of something new - Priest Barnes (dark smut, dubcon)

She comes to the priest to confess, but he won’t forgive her for kissing a stranger, at least not before she pleases him to his liking. And (y/n) would do everything to please her one connection to God.

Priest Ried

The purest form of yourself (smut)

The reader's parents think that she's possessed by Satan, priest Reid is their last hope. And yet, even though he knows that she isn't guided by the dark Lord himself, the man of God can't help but take advantage of the situation.

Priest Styles

Forgive Me, Father (smut)

Harry and the reader have dated all through high school, but the second they leave for different colleges, Harry breaks up with her via text. The two cross paths about three years later. A lot can change in those years, but maybe some things will always stick around. Like their feelings for one another.

Priest Holland

Prey or Predator

The reader is crushing on young preacher Holland, a secret she thought she had kept safe, but Lee Bodecker has his eyes and ears everywhere she goes. Will she allow him to blackmail her into keeping her secret safe, or will she simply give into her desires for the preacher?

Father Paul (midnight mass)

Matthew 5:28

Father Paul and the reader fuck in his cabin.

Preacher Loki Laufeyson

Our sinful secrets (one of my faves)

Priest Laufeyson went with the reader’s father to war, returning with him years later. Many things have changed over the years, just like the reader has, finally all grown up and ready to sin with the handsome priest.

Lokasenna

Preacher Laufeyson is always right there to protect her, to make her feel safe, he is always right there to fuck her worries out of her. All while he is waiting for his plan to set into motion.

Hebrews 13:4

It's the day before the reader is supposed to marry her fiancé. He had asked her to wait till their wedding night, but she is too scared about messing things up, not knowing how to touch her husband to be. And who would be more fitting to help her out than the handsome priest?

Preacher Kylo Ren

Untitled

Preacher Ren fucks the reader in his church

Priest Malfoy

Colossians 3:25

Priest Malfoy teachers the reader a lesson for being so mouthy and bratty.

Priest Winchester

Drabble pwp

#little-diable priest #Bucky Barnes smut #Kylo Ren smut #Loki smut #Father Paul smut

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal /Betrothal AU: Take Two

So here is the second part of the betrothal AU that I decided to name "A Failed Betrothal. This takes place before Part 1 which in hindsight should have been done first. Part 2 got too long so I cut it and started Part 3. I have no idea and nothing planned on how long this will go. Hope you enjoy ❤.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)

PART 2

Marinette also wasn't having a good day or a good week.

Lila Rossi had been up to her usual tricks. You know, spewing lies from her mouth. How she met these awesome celebrities during this trip and they worship the ground she walks on for her amazing and humbling help. There were stories of these charities, trips and galas that she had been to or was invited to. She has problems with her wrists and can't do simple stuff like carry her own bag or do her homework. She has tinnitus in her ears so she needs to sit in the front where the only seat available would be next to Adrien.

And for the finale.

The desert after feeding the class a banquet of lies.

"Mari...nette..has been bullying me, she...told..me not to tell anyone..*sobs*..that she would kill me if I did.."

Lila dramatically gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Turning on the waterworks for a more dramatic effect. They all ate it up, jumping on the ‘let’s hate Marinette, a bad person’ train.

"She is going to kill me now and I am so scared." That snake managed to snuck an evil smirk past her glaring, oblivious classmates.

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Marinette, at this point of her life, had frankly given up caring for them due to the class's lack of brain cells and Agreste's spineless 'High Road' Approach.

For Kwami's sake, she went through a brutal torture that was training in some jungle temple in Asia before Sabine Cheng, former mercenary/assassin, kidnapped her (Little Marinette took a risk. She ran away and followed her around until Sabine begrudgingly accepted that she was now the 6- year-old girl's mother because screw it, Tom said he wanted children.) to raise/train as her own while she settled down with a baker whose mother may or may not have ties with the Mafia and other illegal activities.

(Mother-daughter bonding days became much more fun once she had Guardianship of the Miraculous. Sabine was ,at first, furious at Master Fu for dumping everything on the girl and losing his memories before swearing to help protect the jewels. Adopted or not, Marinette is her daughter and no one should let a child, even one with training, fight a war. A good thing to come out of her reveal was that her mother was a great tiger to have as back-up. But now, her training regime had become harder and challenging.)

The point was that Lila Rossi would be dead and body missing since that first time she threatened Marinette in the bathroom. The Italian was in perfect health despite what she claims otherwise, because Marinette didn’t want to be the person she was raised to be and also she didn’t want to disappoint Tikki, she was fond of the little red kwami. But sometimes, she just wanted to give into the urge to kill.

She had met and dealt with unsavory characters of all types and she can safely say that Lila Rossi was a manipulator that thrives on attention and like a parasite, latches herself onto the fame of others. None of the unsavory people she had met get under her skin like Rossi had.

Marinette had enough self-preservation to drop the nice girl act and sometimes let the dragon underneath to surface. She stopped doing last-minute favors and giving away free stuff which Lila uses to her full advantage to further destroy her relationships with her ‘friends’. It was better than sticking her neck out for classmates that were no longer worth her time. Attempts to expose Lila had backfired due to the denial they are in, believing the liar to be a sweet, nice girl living the high life.

Adrien with his rose-tinted glasses firmly stuck to his eyes was not happy at all with her decision. That may also have to do where she suggested he shove his advice after he tried to reason her to take the high road for defending herself for the umpteenth time. She felt like the biggest idiot to ever have a crush on him. Every time, Rossi blames Marinette for a problem, he would shoot disappointed looks in her direction.

Alya being Lila's biggest guard dog tore into Marinette for her newfound 'bad' behaviour. The rest of Lila's supporters backed her up with "How could you do that to Lila","I can't believe you changed." Nearly all her so-call friends had turned their backs and lost all common sense to the Italian's manipulations.

(Alya was supposed to be her best friend, aren’t you supposed to listen to your ‘bestie’ over a complete stranger)

The designer took it all with a bored expression on her face, used to the lecturing which was a waste of time because her behavior isn't going to change, no matter what, Lie-la will keep up the act of being the bully's (*cough*Marinette*cough*) victim.

Her heart that cracks the tiniest bit at the accusations. A small part of her, she admits, is hurt that they think so low of her.Was she really that worthless to them? All those times and efforts helping them out on last-minute favors and giving them free treats. Were they not enough to earn their friendship? Their trust or at the very least, a benefit of doubt?

The only ones who didn’t join the berating to 'correct' the raven-haired girl’s attitude were Chloe (who had proven herself to have changed after the miracle queen incident and Lila stole the spotlight and Sabrina. There were a lot of apologizes, gifts and ‘making up to do’) Alix (she came to her senses when the supposed bullying started) and Nathaniel (Lila blatantly claimed to be the artist for the Ladybug comic to his face).

“Girl, Marinette, are you even listening to me?”Alya demanded.

“Maybe. Did you say anything that doesn’t have to do with Lila or how I did her wrong or how I am no longer the person you knew?”

Marinette knew that being sarcastic would backfire but nothing she does or says will change what they think of her. One word from Lila and they will turn back on her. As much as she hates to admit it, Lila’s threat has fallen through and she was alone. Mostly.

She still had Chloe, Nathaniel, Alix, Luka and Kagami as friends. The trust-worthy and loyal kind.

“Girl,” Alya says in a disappointed tone, shaking her head,“when I look at you, I don’t see that girl who stood up to Chloe the bully-”, Chloe snorted, she had changed but they were too blind and prejudiced against her to notice her efforts, “-Picking on Lila, threatening and harassing her. This isn’t you and you know it. Just get over your jealousy on Lila being close to Adrien and apologize to her.”

If Alya had talked to her in the past 12 months other than demanding things that took away her time or anything relating to Lila, she would know that her infatuation had turned into annoyance.

Marinette sighed, too tired of this routine, tired of trying to knock heads so the brain cells can work again. Apologizing would mean that Lila had won. She was petty and stubborn enough to allow that to happen. Lila said she will take the class and Adrien. Fine, she can have them but Marinette Dupain-Cheng will not admit defeat. Bigger men had fallen to the ravenette for lesser offences. A year has passed since the expulsion and the class still hasn't regained common senses, so they can deal with the consequences after the inevitable downfall of Lila and Marinette will be there to see them lay in the grave they dug.

Steeling herself for the pain that will come with the execution of her plan,

“What if I don’t. I won’t apologize to her because I have not done anything to her or even interacted with her. If I apologize, it would be insincere and a lie. And I hate liars.” The former assassin said evenly.

“Lila is not a liar. I don’t know why you are like this.” Alya said, frustrated.

Marinette knew there would be a small chance of an akuma with Gabriel Agreste having an important meeting to attend on this day that would last for the next hour. This was the small window of opportunity to start the plan and also further confirm the identity of Hawkmoth. Killing two birds with one stone.

“Alya, this has always been me, you just never took the time to get to really know the real me.”, she replied, the last part with an icy tone.

“Well-... I- ..You-, fine, then if you can’t say those simple three words, we can’t be friends. I clearly don’t know what a selfish bitch you are. God, I can’t believe I wanted to be best friends with you. You are now replaced by Lila because unlike you, she is genuinely nice and selfless.” Alya declared. The rest of Lila’s supporters murmured in agreement.

Phase 1, complete. Lure the Lie-la into a false sense of security by making her think she won.

Marinette tried not to show how hurt she was, to be replaced by the scheming bitch. But at the same time she felt relieved, she no longer had to walk on eggshells in fear of losing the friendships of people she used to care about. It felt final as she maintained her stoic expression, hoping they didn't notice the glassy sheen her eyes had.

“Then, it is official. We are no longer friends.”

They haven’t been friends for a long time.

Mme. Bustier finally walked into the classroom to start the afternoon classes, signalling the end of the conversation. After class, Marinette resolves to inform them that she was resigning as class president which she was sure the class will be glad for. She was right.

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Ladybug was, as the Americans say, pissed at Hawkmoth which was nothing new. He had sent out another akuma just as Marinette was back home and trying to relax after the stressful day. The akuma was not any of her ex-friends which she wasn’t sure to be thankful for or not.

Louise Martin was a boy about Luka’s age and mad at his friends who had blamed their fifth loss-in-a-row on him despite the fact that it was his skills that were getting them any progress. They were playing one of those recently released 5V5 skills and strategy battle games. (League of Legends or Mobile Legends. Take your pick, I am going with the latter)

He was akumatized into Hayakuma as proof of Hawkmoth’s lack of creativity. Hayakuma was a bleached out version of Louise’s chosen hero avatar, Hayabusa whose outfit was basically what the media portrays ninjas to look like with some samurai aspects.

Unfortunately, he also had the hero’s ultimate special powers which were making four shadow copies of himself and being able to switch positions with them. Thanks to Rattlesnake’s Second Chance, they know that he can only make a switch once every two minute. Hayakuma also wields a sword, showing off his skills.

Just lovely.

Hydra and Ladybug were the only ones able to counter his attacks with Hydra’s sword and Ladybug’s summoned one. (Let’s go with that headcanon(?)/trope that she can summon weapons for plot convenience and the others can too but just don’t have enough practise yet.)

The others managed to dodge and shield themselves from Hayakuma’s really sharp sword.

The shadows themselves were annoying as they would distract or hinder the miraculous users by grabbing them by their shadows and making them unable to move. Until Bunnix had the brilliant idea of shadow boxing which gave the heroes gain more even ground.

With how strong and handful the akuma was, it was code ‘all hands on deck’. Ladybug, Stinger, Rattlesnake, Hydra, Bunnix, Trickster. Well, nearly every hand. Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was busy with the bakery. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen or very late which had been the norm for the last year ever since Ladybug wanted to form a new miraculous team consisting of permanent heroes.

(He didn’t show up for the first few months because the first permanent member was Ladybug’s mother who did not like his attitude towards her daughter. He ran away with his tail between his legs once he found out how she was related to Ladybug. His face when he realized it, was something Marinette will cherish forever)

At least when Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was around, he would not dare act out of line. When she is gone however, he is back to his old ways.

After saving one of Louise’s teammates from Hayakuma’s sword, they gathered the rest of the team and hid them someplace safe. Using Trickster’s illusions to trick all the shadows and the original to one place, the heroes were going to surround and ambush them and get the akumatized item. The plan would have been a success if it weren’t for Chat Noir hugging Ladybug from behind, making her miss her cue.

“Hey~ Bugaboo~ Did you miss me~? Your Chaton~?”

Thwack! Smack!

Chat Noir was on the rooftop, groaning pitifully in pain. Especially his crotch area. Ladybug glared at him and looked to the ambush point to see the illusions had disappeared and everyone else gone from their hiding place.

She sighed and turned on the comms, (Thank you, kwamis)

“Sting, did you venomed the akuma?”

“No, he escaped before I could. What happened, LB?”

“A certain cat got me delayed. What’s the status update?”

“Hydra is holding him off and Bunnix found that an umbrella is a good substitute for a sword. The rest of us are keeping track of the shadows. They split up but none of them are getting near where we hid the targets.”

“Where are you? I will meet you later with back-up.”

“Near Notre Dame and tell Mama Tigress I said hi.”

“Tell her yourself.”

She looked down at Chat No-, no he is not worthy of being a hero anymore with the amount of times he had derailed and hijacked the plans to defeat the akumas just so he can ‘earn’ Ladybug’s heart.

She looked down at Adrien Agreste, who was sitting and sulking like a child that was unfairly punished. (Once she got over her crush and started looking at the right things that she managed to piece together her ‘partner’s’ identity by accident. Tikki’s confirmation sealed the deal.)

“Chat Noir, this partnership of ours,” she said, gesturing to the two of them, “ is going to change tonight. Meet me at the ‘spot’ at 11 sharp. Now, go home.”

He left with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes at her words. She felt a little bad about the subtle manipulation but with the way things were now, it can’t go on. He was hindering more than helping and the people of Paris that weren’t shipping ‘Ladynoir’ saw that.

As she jumped towards Notre Dame, she called the bakery with her yoyo.

“Mama, are you free now? I need a little help with the akuma and can you bring the horse miraculous.”

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Chat Noir waited excitedly at what they both dubbed at their ‘spot’, in the good old days when it was just the two of them. Maybe Ladybug was finally open to the idea of dating. Or maybe she must have seen what a great hero he is and was going to get rid of the team. Or realized that having her mother on her team was a bad idea. Parents are the worst and they both can be two rebellious teenagers in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic~.

He was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t hear his lady land.

“Chat Noir.” Startled, he nearly fell off the roof. No, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Ladybug.

“Yes, Bugaboo.” Hoping she didn’t know that he was very distracted. His attention will always be hers 100%.

“Don’t call me Bugaboo. Tikki wants to talk to Plagg about Kwami stuff. So you go over and hide behind that chimney. Then, we can talk about why I told you to be here.” Adrien frowned and then smiled. His lady must be very embarrassed about her mistake that must be why she is taking her time. He tried listening to what they were saying but the kwamis were talking in their special Guardian Language. Was it him or did Tikki’s voice sound more like his lady’s voice?

Whizz!

Adrien was tied up with Ladybug’s yoyo. “M’Lady? Bugaboo!? LADYBUG! WHAT IS GOING ON?!! PLAGG-”

Ladybug cut in, “Adrien Agreste, you have been slack in your hero duty and choosing your own feelings over supporting your partner, me, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and current Grand Guardian, in the efforts to defeat the enemy of Paris, Hawkmoth. Due to those reasons, you are no longer worthy to be the Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous” in one swift motion, she took the ring off his finger, “As such you are hereby revoked of Plagg’s Ring.”

“NO, YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I LOVE YOU AND I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BACK. WE ARE SOULMATES, WE ARE MEANT TO BE-”

Adrien went slack at Lady Tigress’s pinch on his pressure point.

“I don’t what you ever saw in the boy.”

“I don’t know either. I think I dodged a bullet here. Can you carry him back to his home? I think I have dealt with enough of him tonight.” Ladybug muttered, as she erased Adrien’s memories of being Chat Noir.

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe.

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(Part 3)

#maridami #maribat #damian x marinette #mlb x dc #Betrothal AU: Take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #sorry. No Damian this chapter #there is salt #Alya salt #Adrien Salt #Lila salt #class salt #I don't know if it is mild or not #Marinette is an assassin

[fire-lady-ilah]

More good dad! Ozai AU? Even if you didn’t ask for it, you’re getting it and I’m picking up right where I left off. This is my reminder that, while Ozai is a good and non-abusive dad and husband in this, he is still very much an imperialist and a cruel person in general.

Parts [1] and [2] if you’d like. This is part 3. Here’s part [4]

The siblings venture into the capital, although they make it known that no one should inform their parents that they are nearby. The moment they step off the ship, Captain Jee sends a letter to the Fire Lady. He was loyal to the Prince and Princess above all, but he did not feel like being executed or exiled that day when Lady Ursa inevitably finds out.

In a large house just outside Caldera City, Lord Ukano lives with his wife, Michi, his daughter and heir, Mai, and his newborn son Tom-Tom. The Dragon Emperor and the Blue Spirit sneak into the bedroom of the heiress and steal her away.

In that I mean, Mai leaps at the opportunity to escape her home with her best friends, who she’s seen wearing the same theatre masks dozens of times, and follows willingly. It takes an hour longer than the siblings had expected, if only because Mai has far more knives than they had truly expected and they get caught up in the palace kitchens stealing Azula’s favourite mochi and some bags of fire flakes.

Then they are caught by Fire Lady Ursa, who is gathering a late night cup of cocoa after a nice night with her husband, not that her children need to know that part. Her children, who are wearing her theatre masks that had very recently gone missing from her collection, stare at her innocently. Her daughter carries two entire boxes she knows are full of mochi. Her son carries the fire flake bag they use for festivals. Her one day daughter-in-law is making a cup of cocoa and the Fire Lady calmly requests one for herself from the girl.

That night, the fire Prince and Princess sleep in their own rooms, with Lady Mai in one of the many available. In the morning, they take breakfast with the Fire Lord and Lady, discussing trivial matters of politics and domestic affairs.

Mai leaves on the request of the Fire Lord, bringing everything they took from her home and the palace (along with what Ursa and Ozai insisted they take) to the ship with the help of some soldiers.

Azula and Zuko sit with their parents. Ursa gives them each two potent bottles of poison. Ozai’s voice has a worry that only his family knows how to detect through the facade of boredom as he inquires how their firebending and blades practice has been, as to the state of their weaponry. They try to soothe their parents worries with assurances: their practice has been going well in both bending and blades, Azula has achieved perfection in lightningbending and Zuko has achieved lightning, their blades are sharp and well maintained, they weren’t harmed when the temple blew up—

It slips through Zuko’s lips. He was never the actor like his mother and sister. For their part, his parents do not react overly beyond a flickering of the flame and a long sip of tea.

“Your mission has changed.”

Ozai is smart. Everything he does is to serve his goals the best they can. In canon, the premier of those goals is to gain more power for himself. In this world, that goal is to secure the ideal outcome for his family. (Of course, his second goal is as much power as possible. But it is only considered after his first goal).

Allying themselves with the Avatar, at least in appearances, will secure the best outcome for his children. And he has no doubt that his brother (so weak after the death of his son. And yet, Ozai cannot find it within him to scorn him overly. He knows that were he to be left childless, he would break. It is merely that Ozai would break in an explosion, whereas Iroh’s flame fizzled into embers.) would eagerly help his children betray him. Even if it was just in appearances.

His children are loyal and dutiful. They protest, but only out of a desire to maintain that loyalty. He wishes the Avatar had remained hidden, at least until they were both adults. They are prodigal, yes, but they are just siblings.

“You have our permission to reveal your mother’s ancestry. Use it wisely.”

The children know their lineage for at least five generations on each side. That, of course, is in addition to their knowledge of every Fire Lord that has reigned since the unification of the Fire Nation. They are well aware that their Grandmother Rina (who feeds them chocolate and tells them stories whenever she visits) ‘s father was Avatar Roku. Just as they knew of the friendship between Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku.

It is necessary for the people of their nation to hear pretty lies. It is not their responsibility to worry about the nuance and complexity of life. It is one of their responsibilities as Angi’s heirs in the mortal world. To worry of such things is a burden they should not have to bear. It is necessary for the people to believe the Avatar hated the Fire Lord.

The siblings don’t know everything, of course. They are just children after all. But they understand the nuance, the conflicting beliefs. They were told the truth (and carefully kept from necessary propaganda before then) when they were old enough to look critically at the situation. It was their duty to bring the Fire Nation’s good to the other nations, to liberate their populations, the siblings decided.

The Avatar is just a child, but he seemed able to connect with his past lives. And he had pointedly not hurt them, at least as Avatar Roku.

If nothing else, they have the Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit on their side.

“Zhao has asked for permission to launch an invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. He is a fool, but he claims he has knowledge that will ensure his victory. Tomorrow, I will send him a letter approving his asinine idea. You will stop him— kill him, if you must— and use that act of perceived treason to ally yourselves with the Avatar.”

Ozai wants power, but he is no fool. The invasion is risky at best. He cannot find it within himself to care for the tens of thousands that would doubtlessly die in it, the Northern Water Tribe had the advantage in multiple ways. It would serve its purpose to get his children at the Avatar’s side.

The tone lightens after his orders and Ozai steps back from his role as Father Lord into just being a father. He teases his son on his interactions with his betrothed. He teases his daughter and asks if she would be visiting the circus soon, taking note of how she had learned to prevent a blush but not the squeak in her voice. They are not infallible, they are children.

As they see their children for the last time in the foreseeable future, the Fire Lord and Lady both think as to how much they will miss them. Ursa blinks back tears as she hugs them both, smiling as they react identically, burying their faces into her chest to hide them and breathing in the scent of fire lily perfume.

Ozai is not usually physically affectionate with his children. He had never received it from his father and was much more competent in other ways. That being said, no one commented on the kiss he pressed to the top of Zuko’s head (still shorter than him by quite a bit. Sometimes he acted so adult, but he was so clearly still a child) before repeating the action with Azula.

“I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

I’m just now realizing Blue Spirit is supposed to be after the whole Roku thing. Oh well.

For appearances’ sake, the siblings and Mai continue to chase the Avatar. Zhao attacks the Avatar while he trains under the Deserter. Princess Azula ensures the forest doesn’t burn while Prince Zuko uses all the bottled up anger at both Zhao himself and Azulon (really, what is with grown men trying to kill 11/12 year olds?) to yell at Zhao for acting so recklessly.

And if, perhaps, he manages to endear himself to others by knocking Zhao’s feet out from under him, all the better.

The Avatar and his friends escape and the siblings celebrate another success as Zhao nurses his bruised ass and ego.

(“Hey, did the Deserter look like that dude in Master Piandao’s painting in his main hall to you?”

“Admiral Jeong Jeong and Master Piandao were married, Zuko. Obviously that was him.”)

Zhao attempts to order their crew away from them, citing his rank as admiral as above prince and princess.

Azula’s sharp tongue reminds Admiral Zhao that Zuko is not only a prince, but the Crown Prince, and thus he is equal in rank to Zhao. As was their uncle a general, retired or not.

Behind the royalty of the ship stands Captain Jee, his eyes locked with Zhao’s. His eyes promise mutiny even if he were to somehow take them. His eyes swear loyalty to the Crown Prince, to his sister, above all else.

Zhao turns to leave.

“Of course, that is not to say we will not join your invasion.” Zuko sounds like his father sometimes, and never more than when his voice holds a hint of smug satisfaction. “Merely, do not presume to think you can order us in any way. We out rank you, and our crew is the best our Nation has to offer.”

Their ship joins, at least in appearance, Zhao’s fleet. That being said, they obey no orders from the Admiral and only allow his “inspections” of the ship and their crew once. For all intents and purposes, they are just there to observe.

And observe they do. The siblings watch the way Zhao treats his subordinates and twin righteous flames burns in their chests. The truth of being raised by a loving father means that Zuko and Azula are both rather sheltered in comparison to their canon selves. They are raised on ideals of honour and the divine responsibility of a monarch, rather than on the truths of war and practicality of rule. It only results in a hotter fire and more questions as to if Sozin’s way was truly the one to follow.

They still have absolute faith in their father. After all, he is the one that raised them, that taught them of honour and the ideals of a monarch. He is the one that sheltered them. He is the one that suggested they befriend the Avatar to keep them safe.

On the ship, only three people know the entire plan. The first two are the siblings, of course. The third is Captain Jee. He is the one that will keep their ship away from the invasion itself so there is no risk of their crew being harmed in the doomed attack. He is the one that will direct the ship to the colonies once the siblings are with the Avatar. Captain Jee has no qualms about technically commuting treason.

Mai knows some of the plan. In that, Mai knows exactly what Zuko and Azula tell her and then what she observes. She sees the way they stick together, now more than ever. Sees the way that Azula trains her non-lethal lightning (because even she, a nonbender, knows it’s far harder to bend lightning that doesn’t kill than that that does). She hears the way they drop the title of Fire Lord when speaking of their royal great grandfather. She catches whispers about Fire Lord Roku. About the Avatar.

Mai, in a way, knows more than the siblings themselves. She knows that they are genuinely sympathetic toward the Avatar in a way that they don’t yet realize. She begins to keep all her knives on her person, along with an easily grab-able bag for travelling in her room. There was no way she’d be letting her best friends turn traitor without her. This is the most exciting thing she’s done in years.

Iroh knows less than he believes. Oh, he gets the dropped title just as well as Mai, but he does not know the intricacies of Zuko and Azula the way Mai does. He sees Azula’s practice and writes it off as her ever-present search for perfection. He catches the tail end of a conversation between siblings and does not stop to consider who exactly “great grandfather” may be referring to. It would be unthinkable for his brother to tell the children of their heritage.

Despite this, Iroh also knows more than most. He knows from conversation exactly what Zhao intends to do in the Northern Water Tribe and it turns his blood to boil.

They reach the Northern Water Tribe. The siblings sneak off the ship in an emergency boat. Mai enters at the last moment and neither send her away.

Iroh has already left the ship, though he is currently in one last meeting with Zhao in an attempt to convince him not to continue with his plan. He will not check back with his niece and nephew, believing them to be safe on the ship.

In the Northern Water Tribe, the three Fire Nation teens remain tucked into the shadows. They, unfortunately, have no idea where the Avatar is and wander through the city. However, they reach the Avatar’s friends before Zhao does.

(“Is he... alive?”

“He’s just meditating.”)

It goes far better than they could have expected. The siblings’ act of releasing Sokka and Katara from Zhao’s bindings results in a part of water tribe siblings being quite willing to hear them out. Princess Yue gives them an odd look but remains quiet.

Zhao shows up. Iroh shows up. Azula and Zuko denounce him (though they cannot bring themselves to denounce their father, even though they know they should). Zhao declares them all traitors, a koi fish in a bag in his hand.

A bolt of lightning hits Zhao straight in the back. Both he and the koi fish fall into the pool of water. He does not emerge.

Azula’s face is carefully blank, even as she watches the water. She cannot stop to consider whether it is her or the water that just killed the admiral, or if he was even dead at all. She could not even see his body in its depths. She used non-lethal strength.

Despite Princess Yue’s backing, the Northern Water Tribe wants to take the siblings prisoner (hostage, everyone knows). After all, everyone knows of the devotion they show to the Fire Lord and vice versa. If nothing else, they would be excellent bargaining pieces in a more formal treaty.

They had not factored this into their plan. Admittedly, they had not factored the Northern Water Tribe into their plan at all.

The three Fire Nation teens are thrown into a prison cell. A rather comfortable prison cell, but still a prison cell. Iroh is taken somewhere else.

Within five hours, they sit on the back of a flying bison, Sokka handing them food he had smuggled out of the meal as Katara was smuggling them out of prison.

(“We tried to get your Uncle too,” the Avatar says in a remorseful tone, “but we couldn’t find him.”

“Uncle will be fine.” Azula declares, her mind set only on the future as she tries not to think about the way Zhao sunk beneath the still surface of the pond.

Zuko nods in agreement and clutches her hand in a comforting way.)

The Gaang now consists of six people:

Aang, a twelve year old Avatar with a mastery in air and a decent proficiency in water. He looks at the Fire Nation teens and sees his friend Kuzon, sees a time from before the war when an Air Nomad could wander freely through the Fire Nation. He attempts to use Fire Nation slang with them but it’s a century old and results in only laughter.

Katara, a master waterbender and healer (a concept that intrigues Azula to no end, although she tries to keep her questions polite). She tends to have a short temper when it comes to matters of the Fire Nation, but even she can be coaxed into trying a few sweets that Zuko has stored in his bag.

Sokka, a hunter and warrior who may or may not be engaged to the NWT princess (Zuko says he is, Azula says he isn’t). Azula laments that her jokes are even worse than Zuko’s, to which Mai agrees. It is that comment that leads Sokka and Zuko to start bonding, having nothing better to do on the bison’s back than exchange bad jokes.

Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who Sokka would insist is walking Fire Nation propaganda as he goes on at least one rant about Fire Nation culture and technology a day. Who surprisingly helps Katara with the cooking because it was one of the things Fire Lady Ursa carried over from before she was Fire Lady and taught to her children.

Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, who has a sharp tongue and a sharper pair of twin daggers that she seems to enjoy threatening her brother with for any inconvenience, even though they both just laugh at it. (Katara and Sokka have to be assured by them both that they truly love each other and that threatening each other with weapons carried over from the theatre scrolls they used to act out as children).

Lady Mai talks the least, seemingly content just to talk to Zuko and Azula. Aang makes it his mission to get her to warm up to him and spends a good portion of his time trying to talk to her. He succeeds when he brings up air ball, of all things. Mai’s parents had discouraged her from sport, believing it to be unfitting of a young lady just as they had discouraged her interest in knives until Zuko and Azula had ganged up on them. Partially for that reason, Mai enjoyed sports quite a bit, a shock to even Zuko (though Azula knew). After that, she talks mainly to Zuko, Azula, and Aang.

Captain Jee guides his ship to the Fire Nation colonies, unable to confirm that his Prince and Princess were okay. He hadn’t expected the worry he feels now, but he knows he will be awaiting a letter at Yu Dao if they are safe.

Prince Iroh is startled to discover that, while meeting with Master Pakku, the Avatar, his friends, his nephew and niece, and Mai had all disappeared.

As had his ship.

#Good Dad! Ozai #My poor friends #but good dad Ozai be compelling #evil but a good dad #oh also blanket permission to use any of the ideas I propose in this series (tho I'd love to know if you do use them) #fire lord ozai #ozai #zuko #prince zuko #fire lady ursa #ursa #azula #princess azula #fire nation #fire nation royal family #mai #mai atla #iroh #uncle iroh #jee #lieutenant jee #though he isn’t a lieutenant in this #Zhao #admiral zhao #aang #katara #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #the gaang